Lonely Breeze

Lonely Breeze

group : ateez

pairing : poly!yungi × reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort

wc : 3.1 k

tw : angst, poly relationship, heavy stuff maybe; relationship issues, psychological issues, mentions of blood (injury), mentions of anxiety, ngl I'm just rambling at this point so if this is not your thing, pls skip lol.

a/n : this is why i don't listen to anything produced by mingi. I'm textbook kubler-ross every single time and idk how to feel about it. and yea i wrote this in 2 hours

buy me coffee ?

It had been three days since you ran away.

Can it be counted as running away? You're a full-grown adult with intact mental faculties and 'running away' sounds rather juvenile.

Life had gotten too hard and you were overwhelmed. Despite having wonderful boyfriends like Yunho and Mingi, this time you truly didn't know what to do but you knew that you had to get out of there before you completely exploded.

To be honest, Yunho and Mingi were one of the reasons you had to run away.

It was nothing against them per se but you felt bad for having to always rely on them all the time.

The three of you met on the cusp of adulthood, at a dance academy workshop. The three of you didn't mean to join that joint workshop because each of you was from different area branches of the academy but you all just clicked. From then, you and they planned your lives together even down to which university you three will attend. But it wasn't until nearing the senior year that you three decided to pursue a romantic relationship. You still remembered it like it was yesterday. How you, Mingi, and Yunho join your other friends on a countryside trip to celebrate the end of the 6th semester only to find out that the cabin was at maxed capacity so you three had to rent a small, dusty place on your own. Little did you know, you, Yunho and Mingi had each planned separately to come clean about your feelings. You were the first to confess after having a particularly tiring clean-up session (just so you won't inhale the dust that had accumulated in the cabin), accidentally telling them how you could see the three of you in your 30s cleaning the apartment you will share together. You remembered the dread that washed down on you when Mingi asked what you meant. Like the reliable pillar he is, Yunho was the one who helped you calm yourself down and told you that he could see the same thing, how he felt the same way about you and Mingi. Then Mingi confessed his own feelings and from then on, you three were even more inseparable than you had ever been before.

While it surprised people that the three of you decided to commit to a relationship that was far from orthodox, no one was really fazed. Everyone who knew the three of you had at least assumed you three were sleeping together which was why no one approached either one of you romantically all through university.

Some called it fate, some called it dedication.

You believed in the former more than the latter.

But recently?

You feared that you had trapped them.

Maybe it was a quarter-life crisis but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of your life. It wasn't like things were falling apart. On the contrary, the pieces of your life were finally falling into place; you were starting to really shine at work, and you were finally able to start saving whilst resolving some of your financial issues. Your relationship with your boyfriends was even at its peak, there was more love than the three of you ever needed and you three were beyond happy.

Then one day, one day a week ago, things crashed down on you.

You didn't know what it was, you didn't know what caused it, but you suddenly couldn't breathe. You remembered holding onto the bathroom sink while your body trembled, tears streaming down your face like a busted faucet and you couldn't move. The cool bathroom suddenly felt suffocating and the sound of your boyfriends laughing just on the other side of the door felt deafening. It took you a long while to break free from that state and you only managed to do so because Mingi had knocked on the bathroom door asking for you to let him in because he needed to use the bathroom. That night, you found yourself unable to sleep and even finding their presence too much for you to handle even after switching position with Mingi so you could be at the edge. You had slipped away and cried yourself to sleep on the couch, sobbing silently until fatigue took over.

That whole week you were distant until three days ago when you came home from work to see a note on the table from Yunho who let you know that they were out for a bit to get something special for you.

One second you were pouring yourself a glass of water to calm your trembling hands and the next, you were in a train with a duffle bag heading to the countryside, cradling your hand that had a gash and fresh dried blood.

When you arrived at the dark and lonely cabin, you finally broke down, wailing into the emptiness as you hugged yourself in the middle of the room.

Neither of them was aware of what happened.

Or so you thought.

The first person who noticed how distant you became was Yunho. He had sensed that something was wrong since that day in the bathroom. He could never forget the look on your face as you stepped out. Your usually lively eyes were empty and you didn't even react when Mingi pressed a kiss on your forehead. At first, he thought that you might have had a bad day and that you were just not in the mood but as the days passed, you seemed more silent and distant. Yunho wanted to ask what was wrong but he didn't want to make it seem like he was prying so he tried to let you know that he was there for you in different ways; soft touches, words of affirmation, little presents in the form of your favourite drink or plans of going on a trip. He wanted you to have all the space you needed.

Mingi on the other hand immediately jumped into worrying about you. Suddenly he kept texting about your whereabouts and your feelings. He had even asked if he should pick you up early from work and even showed that he was already in front of your building. Mingi knew what it felt like to be all alone stuck in a headspace and it had taken him so long and finally relent, letting you and Yunho pull him out and believing you two that you were there for him. So he wanted to repay all that especially since you were the one who gently washed his tear-stained face and slowly fed him until he regained his own strength. He remembered the pit and he didn't like the idea of you being there.

So when they were met with an empty apartment the day you left, they went into panic mode. The sight of a couple droplets of blood near the broken glass and your work bag thrown carelessly on the couch was enough to send them into a frenzy and sadly, they even turned on each other.

Yunho wanted to calm himself and Mingi down first because neither of them even knew what happened and where you had gone to while Mingi, pointing that out, stated that they both needed to catch you before you could even go far. Then they fought over the fact that they were fighting when they should be looking for you and it ended with Mingi leaving the apartment when Yunho ran into your shared room, trying to charge his phone to see if you had contacted either of them.

Essentially, the three of you were alone at that moment in time. Nothing made sense and none of you had any ways of getting an answer.

You were alone in the cabin, crying your eyes out about... Nothing. You felt stupid for feeling bad over your life that was going rather well and you felt bad for leaving your boyfriends without an explanation. It was simple, you could've simply grabbed the phone and texted either one of them to let them know... Something. You could tell them that you needed time alone. But do you really? You could tell them that you were sorry. But were you really? You could tell them that you were overwhelmed and that they were not making your situation any better by being so supportive. But were they really? You felt like you were not worthy to even send them a text because who the fuck were you to be acting like that and then asking for understanding?

Mingi was running around aimlessly with worry sitting deep in the pit of his stomach. He had gone to several of your friends' places, friends you trusted who wouldn't blab about your disappearance. He hated being in a state of not knowing because he felt helpless. He hated being helpless. Mingi was not a helpless person so he didn't want to be associated with the feeling. First things first, he had to find you. But where could you be? Why had he never taken the time to ask you places you wanted to go to, thinking that you had gone alone because he was too busy with himself. Seeds of doubt planted by the negativity of the situation started sprouting its ugliness. Was your leaving his fault? Was he too self-involved to not have taken the time to dedicate his attention to you once in a while? Was he taking too much of Yunho and your attention? His head hurts.

Yunho, in defeat, slumped against the bed you three shared. Your pillar, your rock finally broke down and with each sob, his mind found it even harder to make sense of things. All the decision in his life was made on a strong foundation, Yunho was a sure man, and he didn't regret the choices he made and the path he took. But was he too sure of himself this time? Out of the three of you, Yunho was always the tie-breaker because he makes his decisions carefully and with logic. He never found any reason to resent that part of him until you left. Did he miss something? Were there signs that you had needed a different kind of treatment? Had he gotten too overconfident this time? Had his so-called level-headedness cost him something important?

Whatever it was you hoped could happen or appear by running away alone never came. Each hour you spent trying to make sense of things or finding a way to calm yourself only made it clear that you were all alone.

Dark thoughts started plaguing your brain, skewing your happy memories into something that was far from reality. The memories you had of banding together into a trio with Yunho and Mingi turned into fear that maybe you had inserted yourself into their friendship. After all, they found themselves together first before you bumped into Yunho and told him how you were alone, effectively guilt-tripping him. The thought of how they have always had your back turned into anxiety that maybe you had leaned on them too much. You relied on them more than you should and now you were a burden to them. The things you told them, should you have told them? Especially the dark ones, the ones that stemmed from your bad mental state. Were you manipulating them without realizing it? Were your promises of the future even really promises? How could you be sure that it wasn't you pressuring your expectations to them?

It had been three days. Were you still alone because they thought you were better off alone? That they too, needed time away from you? Maybe you never needed your own space, maybe it was your subconscious telling you that you needed to give them space from you.

Loud bangs broke the train of thought and the more you came back to reality, the more you recognized the voices.

"Mingi?" you inhaled sharply, seeing the face of one of your lovers on the window as he banged the wall.

Thinking that you were hallucinating, you turned your head away and stood up. There was no way he could be there.

More bangs were heard and when you turned around again, you saw both Mingi who was now with Yunho staring at you from the window.

"(y/n), open up!" Yunho called out.

Normally, you would register his voice as is but your brain, in its unstable state, thought that he was demanding you to let him in. Mingi too, though he was only standing there looking at you, sending knocks on the window as he wanted to hold you once again, your brain took that as him glaring at you and being in fury.

Anxiety shot up and your head shook violently. "N-no..." you whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you took a step back only to trip on a carpet and fall.

The sight of you on the floor caused Mingi and Yunho to abandon all reasons and logic and all they wanted to do was to help you. They started banging and trying to pry the door open, needing to get inside to be there for you but all it did was send you into a deeper spiral without them realizing. Your body curled into a ball while they were yelling for you to open the door. The more you heard them, the worse you felt and before you knew it, you were yelling for them to leave you be, leave you alone, you didn't deserve them.

It wasn't until you started yelling at how you should have never burdened yourself on them that they stopped banging on the door. Their eyes welled with tears hearing the things, untrue things, you hurled at yourself. It hurt them to hear you think so low of yourself like that. You were everything to them, you were something so precious and special and to think that you believe they would be better without you, it was like a serrated knife had been plunged into their hearts multiple times.

"That's not true (y/n), please..." Mingi rested his forehead on the door as his eyes closed slowly, letting tears wet his cheeks, "Please let me in, I... We... (y/n), please," he whimpered.

Looking around, Yunho remembered that the owner of the cabin had told him about a spare key a long time ago. Thinking that it was worth a shot, Yunho was glad to see that there was still a key hidden under the cushion of the porch lounger.

You were too busy bawling to realize that Yunho had opened the door successfully which was a good thing because had you realized, you would have done something stupid like run out into the field in the cold January breeze.

Mingi tried to rush inside only for Yunho to stop him, holding onto his arm as he watched you cry with a broken heart.

"Yunho, wha-"

Wordlessly, Yunho pulled Mingi down to sit in the doorway while maintaining his gaze on you.

Though confused, Mingi followed along, sitting down and looking between Yunho and you.

"We should go in there. She needs us," Mingi said, voice cracking as he shook Yunho slightly, trying to convince him to go inside. He knew he could definitely go inside himself, but for some reason, he felt like he shouldn't.

For once, Yunho didn't give any explanation and just shook his head one more time. Soon, however, his hand took one of Mingi's and they sat there with you with hands linked, waiting for you to... Well, they weren't sure what they were waiting for but they were sure they would understand soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You must have passed out from crying because you remembered feeling cold and alone but the moment you came to again, you realized that this time, you were... Warm.

Sitting up, you noticed that the skies outside were dark and when you turned your body around, you saw Yunho and Mingi attending to the fireplace. The cabin was dark save for the illumination provided by the warm fire.

It took a bit of time for your eyes to adjust but when your eyes really focused, you noticed that Mingi was holding onto your favourite blanket that you forgot to bring. How did they even got inside?

For a moment, you only watched them do their thing, comfortably sitting in silence as if enjoying conversation done by the soft crackles of the fireplace.

Mingi felt something on the back of his neck and when he turned his body slightly, he saw that you were staring at him with puffy eyes. His instinct told him to run to you and envelop you in a hug and tell you how worried he was and how much he regretted things that he thought he did. But his better judgement stopped him from making a move forward. Instead, he cracked a gentle smile and ducked his head down, carefully opening your folded blanket as a silent invitation.

Your body moved automatically towards him and before you knew it, you were suddenly sat in between Mingi and Yunho.

While Mingi draped you with your blanket, Yunho made final adjustments on the firewood before he sat down close to you and even moved so that you and he were shoulder-to-shoulder.

You were sure that they were going to ask what happened, what was wrong with you, why you ran away. But minutes passed and all there was was... Silence. You were sure that when you saw them again you'd be anxious because you had to explain yourself but all you felt was a sense of calm. It was rather ridiculous but you could feel the anxiety melting off of your body.

"I'm tired," finally you opened up even though your voice cracked due to how hoarse your throat felt. "I'm so tired," you exhaled as you closed your eyes, your bottom lip trembling once again.

This time, Yunho moved to sidle even closer to you so he could guide your head gently to rest on his chest. "You... Can you find it in your heart... To rest in mine?" Yunho spoke up finally, voice cracking as well. Mingi then moved closer until he was able to wrap his hands around your waist whilst leaning his head on Yunho's strong shoulder, effectively caging you securely between them. "You can rest in our hearts, love," he added, ducking to press a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Nothing else needed to be said because nothing else should. The three of you had been through so much together in your youth that it felt like you were all alone. But, with the stars as your witness and the fire as your companion, you realized something that was always true. Even lonely, you were always together and your inadequacies made you whole. While pain exists and will always find its way back to remind you of your faults, it allows you to remember who and what you are, but most importantly, what you now have from that.

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our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 37.6k

c/w: sweaty and athletic ateez (warning well deserved), explicit profanity, themes of corruption and rocky family relationships, trauma, hurt/comfort, injuries, kissing, boys are in an established relationship, m x m interactions

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: it has made me incredibly touched to see so many of my readers from the essence of youth come back to support this new oneshot. thank you from the bottom of my heart ♡ and as always, this fic would not have been possible without @sorryimananti-romantic and her undying support

if someone were to ask yunho–or anybody on the team–when he feels the most alive, his answer would be the same every single time: when he is on the ice, just like he is right now.

the air of the rink is already chilly, but with the added cold of emerging autumn, each rugged lungful he takes fills his chest with vigour. only his own heavy breathing can be heard as the rest of the players’ shouts become muffled into the background outside of his helmet. he tightens his grip on his stick, muscles locked and engaged with adrenaline. his vision narrows, an opening suddenly clearing itself through the tangle of sticks and jungle of skates–a golden opportunity for him to take.

“san!” he yells.

their usual goaltender glances upwards as he handles the puck rebounding off the boards. his jaw tightens and with a practised flick of his wrist, san chips the puck over an incoming stick’s attempt to block the pass. there’s a burst of explosive power as yunho speeds up along the opposite boards to receive the landing puck, hoping to break away from the opposing team’s offensive players before he passes it off.

the flash of a blue jersey appears in yunho’s vision with alarming momentum. they lower and widen their stance, shoulder positioned in front ready to knock him directly into the boards in an attempt to steal the puck, leaving yunho with no choice but to mirror their actions. he braces himself as the opponent rams into him with more force than a usual play, and in combination with their own towering height, yunho finds himself being pushed into the plexiglass panels as he loses possession of the puck.

involuntarily, he lets out a threatening growl of vexation. there is a teasing chuckle from the other player that still has him pinned against the wall despite the continuing game, which clearly tells him that the excessive body check was deliberate. yunho has half a mind to flip their positions, knowing he could easily overpower the other. but before he can adjust his stick out of the way to make good use of his hands, the opponent playfully knocks their helmets together.

“you’re hot when you get all competitive and riled up.”

all of the tension escapes yunho’s body, because he will never not find mingi’s attempts to flirt mid-game–with his mouthguard and resultant bumbling pronunciation–to be amusing. he endearingly rolls his eyes and sighs, “have you not heard of, ‘don’t poke the bear’?”

“you’re not a bear, though,” mingi squirms cheekily on the spot, still up in yunho’s personal space because he knows the older will never be truly annoyed by his antics. “you’re just a cute, harmless puppy.”

before mingi can blink, yunho grabs him by the shoulders and pins him against the wall. yunho smirks, “and they also say, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.”

wooyoung tongues his cheek with mischief at the sight of the two, nice and cosy against the walls of the rink. he hands his stick off to seonghwa, who is starting to remove his helmet, and skates in their direction, ignoring the dull throb in his left ankle. wooyoung only bothers to slow himself down slightly, instead letting his trajectory be cushioned by something else.

mingi lets out a pathetic noise as the air is squeezed out of his chest from the impact of wooyoung and yunho’s added weight. the latter grunts out, a little breathless, “woo, please, you’re going to knock somebody out like this one day.”

it goes in one ear and out the other as wooyoung grins up at him to state, “seonghwa scored so we lost ‘cause you were too busy making out with mister mingles here.”

yunho pushes off the wall to free himself from the sandwich of bodies and pivots on his skates to jab wooyoung’s padded chest. “you and san were doing the exact same thing just five minutes ago.”

“we’re on the same team,” wooyoung shrugs, “whereas mingi is not, so you’re fraternising with the enemy. now come on losers, captain’s wrapping up practice.”

the three of them glide along the ice to rejoin the rest of the team, where they are stepping out of the rink to sit on the benches. they remove their helmets and start unlacing their skates as hongjoong gathers the attention of the team.

“great work from everybody today, especially you, jongho. your backhand wrist shots are improving–keep it up. now just a reminder to everyone that our regular games start next week so i want you all to make sure you are stretching and cooling down properly,” he emphasises. he pointedly looks at yeosang, who has already begun to wander his way off to the changerooms, at the same time that seonghwa scruffs him by the back of his jersey and gently tugs him back to the team.

jongho peels off his blue practice jersey as he scans the arena and absentmindedly asks, “is coach still not here? it’s already the end of practice.”

“he said he had something to sort out today, but would come round if everything went well,” seonghwa answers, also craning his neck to look for signs of their coach.

from where you and coach cho are watching from the designated scouting area in the arena, the team is unable to spot you two. you had come from the final negotiations of your contract with coach cho and had watched their team, the red devils, play the last period of their game. despite it only being a friendly match amongst the team’s players, you have already grasped a sense of their playing style–it is heavy on the offensive at the expense of defence, just like how you used to play. it is fast-paced, aggressive and…prone to injury.

“let’s go meet the team,” coach cho voices, making his way out of the viewing area as you follow beside him. all the players look up from their skates that they are still unlacing or from their stretches on the floor when you two near the arrangement of benches surrounding the rink. they greet coach cho enthusiastically and you can see why from the way the older man smiles at them like they are his own sons.

“y/n, this is the team, the red devils–my pride and joy. boys, this is y/n,” he introduces. “i had to miss practice to meet up with y/n and make sure she was happy to sign on as part of the red devils.”

said team gives you disinterested glances, a complete change from the receptivity with which they respond to coach cho. one of the red-jerseyed boys, who you recognise as wooyoung, utters sarcastically, “cute, but we don’t need a mascot or cheerleader.”

coach cho chuckles lightly, “she’s your new coach.”

“hold on, you were serious about–” “–are you coaching a different team–” “–you don’t want us anymore?”

some of the boys erupt into a barrage of questions, trying to make sense of the sudden announcement, whereas the others stay quiet, flickers of flashbacks stirring up from within the depths of their memories. their coach raises his hands to settle them as he apologises, “i didn’t want to say anything before i was one hundred percent sure that things would go ahead, and i wasn’t sure whether y/n would accept the offer.”

“is it because your wife is due soon?” san interrupts.

coach cho nods, “with twins, and i want to be present to help–as a husband and a father. but that just isn’t feasible as your coach, as much as i love you boys.”

training as professional athletes takes incredible perseverance, discipline and commitment. there are early mornings, late nights, weekends and public holidays. it takes sacrifices in the form of time and relationships, especially when they must travel away from home for up to weeks on end to compete in matches. and with the start of the regular season, the intensity is only going to ramp up. as hard as the athletes train, the coach works twice as hard to make it all possible.

the team needs somebody to be there for them to ensure they make it into the playoffs, and it just won’t be fair for anybody–the players and his own family–if coach cho were to keep his position. and the team gets it, they really do, but–

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete, and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

autumn, 2018: pre-season

hongjoong believes all coaches are to be respected. it does not matter what kind of team they coach, how many years of experience they have, or whether they have built up a reputation for themselves. to hongjoong, respect for coaches is not something earned nor negotiable–it is something well-deserved and expected, as is for anybody in a position that is higher in the chain of command.

he may be the captain of their unofficial team, but hongjoong knows that the way a team can place their blind trust in the coach is irreplaceable, regardless of how much the other players rely on him too.

hongjoong watches as his boys carry out the practice drill he has set up for them. yeosang handles the puck around the cones before passing it to wooyoung, primed offensively near the goal to make a quick shot, who groans when his shot rebounds off the post. as he retrieves the disc, yeosang takes over wooyoung’s position near the goal ready to receive yunho’s pass as he starts to work his way through the cones next.

they are limited in the type of drills they can practise because hongjoong was only able to rent half of the community rink for a measly two hours. the boys are not even in proper uniform, wearing only their shin guards under their sweatpants and gloves on their hands to prevent any injuries when the centre had stated very firmly they would not be allowed in with their bulky equipment.

and yet, none of this has dampened the boys’ spirits. san teasingly brags that it is his chance to show off his skills other than goaltending, and jongho thanks hongjoong quietly for renting the rink in the first place. their understanding nods and comforting hugs make hongjoong’s heart clench, even more so as the team eagerly and diligently practise the drills in mediocre conditions but with fiery determination to prove their worth as newly-signed athletes under the kq blue birds.

this is exactly why hongjoong is driven to find them a coach–any coach: to give his boys a solid pillar they can rely on, because he himself lacks the resources and strings to pull in order to fulfil their shared dreams. he needs to keep his boys as one team, instead of scattered into other teams as extra players like a gracious opportunity for the leftovers, since kq does not yet have a coach available for the eight of them.

“captain!”

the excitement in seonghwa’s voice startles hongjoong more than the speed at which the alternate captain skates towards him. seonghwa digs his skates into the ice at the last second, stopping himself just shy of knocking the other over as he exclaims, “he emailed back!”

“the coach you reached out to?” hongjoong clarifies, eyes growing wide.

having caught wind of his signed contract as a professional athlete, an acquaintance of seonghwa’s had reached out offering to pass on the contact of their acquaintance, who apparently knew somebody with coaching experience. it was rare for a coach to take on a rookie team unless there were incredible benefits, so he and hongjoong had drafted and sent an email with little to no expectations for a reply. but seonghwa’s furious nodding is telling otherwise, and his eyes sparkle as he shoves his phone in hongjoong’s face to show him the email.

dear mr park, thank you for your interest and for reaching out with your proposal. i have looked at your athlete profiles and it appears that you all have big dreams and extremely promising futures. it would be my utmost pleasure to help you all reach your true potential by coaching your team. if you would like to arrange a meeting in person to discuss expectations and conditions regarding training, competitions and future championships prior to finalising the contracts with your company, please let me know what times and dates best suit yourself and your team captain, mr kim. i look forward to working with you all. kind regards, coach yeon

“holy shit,” hongjoong steadies seonghwa’s giddy hand to read the email again. when he reaches the last line, he starts once more from the beginning to make sure his eyes are not lying to him. then he breathes out with finality, “holy shit. am i reading this right?”

“yeah, joong. you’re reading it right.”

hongjoong is not often one to be affectionate with the others, but yanking seonghwa into a bone-crushing hug as he repeats holy shit like a mantra is the only response he is able to muster. the older laughs wetly, throat constricting with overwhelming joy and he holds onto his captain until the other pulls back.

“you tell them, okay?” seonghwa does not wait for a response before he is raising his voice to gather the others, “boys! hongjoong has good news for us!”

like puppies responding to the call of food, their heads immediately perk up and they abandon the puck and the drill to speed towards their two captains. there is a clamour of questions as they enthusiastically predict what is going to be said.

“are they letting us use the rink for longer?”

wooyoung squeezes himself in between yunho and mingi to ask, “are we getting the whole rink?!”

“no way,” san gasps, “or did our practice jerseys arrive?”

hongjoong’s eyes soften at their guesses. his boys demand so little from him when he wants to give them everything they could never even think of asking for. he glances at seonghwa, who looks just about ready to burst from his own excitement, then reveals, “we’ve found a coach willing to take on our team.”

dead silence. yeosang blinks and wooyoung’s jaw drops. jongho, who had been lazily circling around the group, comically slows to a stop, joining the rest of the boys in frozen stupor. it is only broken when yunho dares to confirm, “does this mean we won’t be rostered as extras for other teams?”

everyone’s hopeful eyes look at hongjoong. he nods, “we’re staying together and playing as our own team.”

it is obvious the moment the information registers in their minds and the implications of what it means for the team’s future starts to sink in. they explode into a flurry of movement and hongjoong and seonghwa find themselves swept up into the middle of a clumsy group huddle as shouts are exchanged, uncaring of who is listening or talking.

“are we finally playing in championships with the big dogs?”

“we’re going to play interstate?”

“oh my god, what if we get into nationals?”

“nah, fuck that boys, let’s go international! we’re going to represent korea one day and become the best team in the world.”

the amount of voices overlapping one another are overwhelming, but it is overwhelming in the way that it makes hongjoong soar up into the clouds, wings stretched to their full span and carried by the hollers and cheers surrounding him in every direction. his cheeks hurt from smiling because these are the boys that he knows and loves.

they may only be a small team of eight, but they have dreams that are big enough to fill the entire universe.

“what’s the coaches name–” “–know if they’re a good coach–” “–teams have they coached before–”

seonghwa chuckles as the boys hound them with question after question and hongjoong appeases their curiosity dotingly, “we’ll find out when we meet him–coach yeon.”

but it does not matter what qualifications coach yeon has or does not have, and it does not matter what teams he has coached or has not coached before. what matters is that he is a coach and he is willing to be their coach, because it means that hongjoong and his boys are finally taking the next step towards their big dreams. 

and most importantly, they will be in this together…as the red devils.

autumn, present: regular season

“again.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, taking up his position as centre again in the marked circle for the practice drill. even during defensive faceoff plays, he and the team are accustomed to taking on an aggressive approach. when he wins possession of the puck, the wingers–usually yeosang and wooyoung, or jongho when substituted on–quickly breakaway and move forward with him into the offensive zone.

obviously, they have other strategic plays too to switch up the predictability of their tactics, such as moving the puck towards the board whilst yeosang covers him, or by passing the puck back to the mingi in defence. but overall, their team is capable of rapidly flipping from defensive to offensive play using the aggressive setup.

the practice drill you are currently running emphasises heavily on the defence–the reverse setup play. hongjoong is to pass backwards but in the direction of the boards whilst yeosang supports and wooyoung covers the area directly between the circle and san. mingi moves towards the boards to receive the puck, and their other defenceman, yunho, assists with covering the goal.

hongjoong does admit that this play is much safer and stabler, but it is also much slower and…cowardly. his team is called the red devils for a reason and their reputation as demons on ice is not something that he is going to throw away–not following years of blood, sweat and tears to stand back up after falling during their rookie year.

when he assumes his stance once again inside the faceoff circle opposite seonghwa, who is playing the centre position as the mock opponent, you drop the puck onto the centre dot. the moment it hits the ice, hongjoong clears it with his stick towards the right boards. it doesn’t go back far enough for mingi to receive though, so yeosang makes the split decision to burst sideways to retrieve the puck, all three forwards moving aggressively in synchronisation to advance offensively once he gains possession.

you stop them, shaking your head. “again.”

it has been a week since your first meeting with the team, and with the start of the regular season, training has focused on refining their strategies. the red devils are playing in the korean ice hockey league for the second time, an annual national championship with a singular men’s division.

teams from all over korea gather in seoul to compete in regular-season games at the gangneung ice arena against the other teams in rotation. depending on the number of participants, the red devils will need to play an average of three games a week for the next five to six months. then based on the outcome of the games, if your team scores within the top thirty two, they will be able to enter the playoffs.

last year, the red devils were only able to make it to the quarterfinals before they were knocked out. but considering it was their first time competing in a proper championship–as opposed to the rookie leagues and interstate competitions they competed in during the first four years of their career–making it into the top eight teams out of over a hundred or so teams was already impressive enough.

your team’s first regular-season game starts tomorrow, so it does not matter that this is the sixth time in a row that you have stopped them during this drill. you will make them restart until they perfect the play. with that in mind, you release the puck onto the centre dot of the circle once more, but this time seonghwa wins the faceoff, clearing it to the side where jongho is waiting as his left wing. seonghwa looks at you guiltily and anticipates the word that will come out of your mouth.

you bite your tongue, having sensed the rising tension amongst the team an hour ago, but now they are almost at their boiling point. closing your eyes briefly, you try reminding yourself to think about the situation from your players’ perspectives.

their career progression rides on this championship, and with their grit and determination, they will not settle for simply beating their own record in ranking. no, they vie for first place. only the top team secures a position in the international ice hockey league, the most coveted opportunity to represent korea in the championship between the world’s best teams.

and it is during this vital time–when the stress levels and stakes are as high as they can get–that the boys have suddenly had to change coaches. not only have they lost their most trusted support and guide, they have only had one week to adjust to their new one–you. in the grand scheme of things, one week is nowhere near enough time to develop any sort of meaningful relationship where they are able to listen to and rely on you.

taking a breath, you explain, “being so focused on offence leaves your team vulnerable if the opposing team also has aggressive forwards that you can’t break through. the faceoff play needs to be adjusted for those situations, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to control the puck and it will more than likely end up in chaos. it won’t be a game of professional skill anymore, but a circus of dirty play.”

your defence-focused coaching style has worked well for all the past teams you have taught, both men’s and women’s teams. you know that the boys play an offence-focused style; you are reminded too closely of your past self every time they rush head-on into every situation. and it is exactly because of that–because you know the dangers that come with their aggressive style–that you are making them adjust their play. their career comes first and if they suffer an injury, there may not be a career left.

so you will play the bad cop if you have to. they will come to understand you one day.

san bites down on his mouthguard as he listens from his position in the goal. he is able to see each and every play unfold, better than any other of his teammates, so he knows where you are coming from. whilst he has become used to the pressures that come with goaltending, no amount of training or competitions will ever fully eliminate the sudden spike in fear and anticipation the moment the opposing team’s forwards break past yunho and mingi.

san is the team’s last line of defence and the best outcome is that a game never comes down to just him, the opponent’s stick, and his goal. it is true that his team needs to work on their defensive plays, so when the others huff in defiance and reluctantly reset their positions, san simply lowers his centre of gravity in wait for your cue to restart the drill.

“again.”

outside the arena, the echo of sticks and scraping of skates sound faintly as the first leaf of autumn begins to fall to the ground. as time passes, the rest of the leaves will also succumb to a similar fate, only differing in how. some will fall in a slow and graceful descent, whilst others…

…a rapid and spiralling whirlwind downwards.

counting the heads and finding all eight of your players seated in the bus, you nod to the driver to close the door and start driving. most of the boys have chosen to sit on a two-seater by themselves, only yunho and mingi choosing to sit together. they share a set of wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in concentration at one of their phones, likely monitoring one of their own matches or one of another team’s.

the rest of the boys sit alone, faces grim and tight as they stare out the window. they look exactly like you used to and it hits you with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia.

the ride to the competition venue–much less for the very first game of the season–is always the quietest, air strung tight with nerves as everyone prepares themselves psychologically for the inevitable pressures that the game will bring. being able to compose and centre one’s mindset is already half the battle won, and whilst nobody says it out loud, you all know that today’s results, despite it only being day one, will set the tone for the next four to five months as they fight to qualify for the playoffs.

as you make one final sweep from the back of the bus to the front whilst it pulls away from the curb, you accidentally make eye contact with yeosang. you give him a polite smile and he opens his mouth, closes it on second thought, then decides to ask anyway, “do you want to sit here?”

it is a lie to say that you are not surprised by the question, so you stumble over your response as you stammer, “oh, okay. thanks.”

yeosang reciprocates your noise of disorientation and when he fumbles to move his bag aside that had been occupying the space beside him, you belatedly realise he was only asking out of courtesy. but backtracking now and rejecting his offer would be a million times worse and you can only try to hide the flaming heat behind your cheeks as best as you can as you sit down in the seat.

he fiddles with the straps of his bag and you can feel his discomfort reeking off his hands. in an attempt to break the ice, you glance at him, “are you nervous for the game?”

he nods, “don’t think it gets any less nerve-wracking no matter how many games you play.”

“well this is a pretty big championship. you have every reason to feel nervous,” you hum.

yeosang levels you with a look. “are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

you do not know him well enough to be able to discern whether he is joking with you or not. opting to clear your throat instead, you point out, “you have your teammates who you can trust.”

“yeah…teammates.”

and you have me, too, as your coach, you want to say.

the hopeful glimpse in the dark of your eyes is enough for yeosang to pick up on your thoughts. he swallows uncomfortably and looks away.

we don’t know that yet.

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying once more to extend the conversation after a pregnant pause. “did you guys have a coach before cho?” either you have a shitty sense of appropriate conversation starters or yeosang wants absolutely nothing to do with you (it is likely both, but one can be optimistic), because his shoulders tense almost immediately.

“we did…just one,” he starts off carefully. you think that that is going to be the end of it, but then he adds on, “we don’t really talk about him though.”

and there it is–the end of the conversation. it is his nice way of telling you that there is no more to be said, so you sit the rest of the ride in silence next to yeosang, pretending not to let the sheer awkwardness suffocate you.

when the bus arrives at the gangneung ice arena, you hurry to alight and only then do you feel like you are able to breathe again. you plaster on a smile and notify the boys, “your first game is in two hours against the panthers. you’ve been allocated locker room 3B.”

they make their way into the centre and you trail behind in wait as they find their designated space. warm-ups will be first so they will not be needing their full gear just yet, which means it should not take long for them to change.

inside the locker room, the red devils shrug off their bulky duffle bags and change into their game jerseys, lacing and relacing their skates to ensure the snuggest fits. hongjoong alerts, “boys, time to go out and start warming up,” receiving a chorus of acknowledgement as everyone grabs the rest of the gear that they need.

before jongho places his phone into his assigned locker, he habitually taps on the screen one last time to check for any notifications and finds a single text from his younger brother, jonghyuk. he knows he should not read it, much less right before his first game, but the smaller part inside him that yearns for his family’s recognition dares to hope for something. dragging the preview down to avoid opening it, jongho reads the text.

are you just going to keep pretending you haven’t read our messages?

jongho clenches his jaw and swipes the notification away as if that will also erase it from his mind. tossing his phone into the locker, he shuts it with a harsh swing, resting his forehead against the cool metal as he closes his eyes and breathes out shakily. this game–this championship–jongho has to win; he cannot afford to lose.

“captain.”

hongjoong turns around to see jongho striding up towards him, brows furrowed and voice troubled as he questions, “are we really not going to tell coach what our game plan is? shouldn’t we work together with her?”

“jongho,” the captain sighs, “we got lucky with coach cho, but we know better than anyone else that not all coaches are like him.”

from where he has been listening in on the conversation at the doors leading out of the locker room, seonghwa’s shoulders stiffen. there is a moment of silence; the rest of the team have already made their way to the ice rink.

“what if we lose?”

it is the way that his voice grows small and timid that hongjoong realises it is not his captain that jongho needs right now. hongjoong’s gaze softens as he searches the younger’s eyes, “did your family say something again?”

he receives no answer but it tells him more than enough. “you trust me?”

jongho’s almost imperceptible nod does not escape hongjoong’s observations, so he continues to reassure, “we’ll win. my boys are the best players, you included, and we already have experience playing in this competition.” he ducks down slightly to meet jongho’s gaze, “and even if we do lose? we lose because of our own skills–not because of anybody else.”

his words tug a small smile out of the corner of the youngest’s lips, and hongjoong returns it with a relieved smile. with a nudge, he sends jongho in the direction of the door, where seonghwa pretends to ruffle his hair affectionately knowing that it will be dodged. seonghwa chuckles lightly and watches him walk off, unbeknownst to his captain watching him.

“hey,” hongjoong calls out gently, “i know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t what i meant.”

seonghwa looks back and winces, “i can’t help it.”

“and that’s why i will keep telling you no matter how many times you need to hear it. it is not your fault–never was, and never will be,” hongjoong cocks his head playfully as he raises an eyebrow.

“same goes to you then, captain,” seonghwa returns the banter, shoulders relaxing and head shaking, “not your fault either.”

“you’re right, so let’s get the fuck out there and smash our game, yeah?” hongjoong slings his arm around the other and leads them both out of the locker room to join the rest of the boys.

what he does not say, though, is that seonghwa is wrong. seonghwa may have been the one to reach out to coach yeon, but hongjoong was the one who made the executive decision to accept and trust coach yeon.

he is not going to make the same mistake twice this time, because it is not just about protecting his dreams, his career, or those of his teammates–it is about protecting the people he loves.

hongjoong will not let them fall…not again.

winter, 2018: regular season

jongho twirls his phone in his hand, intermittently turning the screen on and off. he sits in the corner of the locker room, away from the rest of the boys as they wait for coach yeon to return from checking in and filling out their required paperwork. only several competitions later will they realise that their locker room is small, cramped and dim, but to their fresh, bright-eyed excitement at competing in a professional league for the first time, they hardly have time to critique the assigned space.

the phone comes to a stop. making up his mind, jongho taps on the screen and navigates to the keypad. dialling his mother’s number, he brings the phone up to his ear and waits with bated breath as it is left to ring.

“what do you want,” comes her curt response when she finally picks up.

jongho’s words falter, “oh, nothing…i just wanted to tell you that we’re playing our first game today.”

“game? your little team doesn’t even have a coach,” his mother patronises.

shoulders curling in on themselves, jongho hesitantly voices, “i told you last month that we got a coach.”

“i forgot,” she brushes him off, “and it must not be a very important competition then, seeing as it isn’t worth remembering.”

“there’s prize money,” he reveals. maybe if he can bring some of it home for his parents, they will recognise his efforts.

she sceptically probes, “is it national? international?”

“no…regionals.”

“is it ranked at least?”

“it’s just an entry-level competition for rookie teams,” jongho trails off, discouraged and confidence in shambles.

his mother scoffs at his answers, none of which are the ones she wants to hear. “you have no excuse not to win this competition, then. this is child’s play. just look at jonghyuk. he’s two years younger than you, yet already has his eyes on the olympics. if you lose, i don’t want to hear about it–don’t bring shame to our family.”

“okay,” jongho mumbles, but his answer is only heard by the beeping dial of the ended call…and the rest of the boys it seems, if not apparent by the sombre hush that has settled over the room and the worried lips that he sees when he looks up.

yeosang’s mouth parts, the younger’s name on the tip of his tongue, but then coach yeon enters the locker room and calls for their attention. jongho gives them a reassuring smile before setting his phone beside him on the bench and directing his gaze to their coach, grateful for the distraction. it leaves yeosang and the others with no choice but to drop it for now.

coach yeon erases the old scribbles on the room’s whiteboard and replaces it with rough markings of the hockey rink. he drags the magnets into the different zones, each one representative of a player, as he goes over the final lineup and their respective positions based on the opposing team they have been pooled against.

“stay strong on the offensive and maintain a 2-1-2 formation where possible–yeosang, i want you up there with hongjoong and put pressure on the other team. if they gain puck possession, both of you fall back to where wooyoung is and maintain 3-2.”

the three forwards nod and coach yeon touches one of the magnets positioned on the player’s bench. “jongho, you’ll come on for your shift during the second period. whoever you replace will come back in later to sub the other wing. yeosang and wooyoung, you should both be playing again during the third period.”

“yes, coach,” jongho acknowledges.

coach yeon continues on to review their game plan and hongjoong steps up to assist with detailing their different strategic plays. to jongho though, their words sound like he is listening from underwater as his mind involuntary drifts off. it is a small saving grace that his parents do not care for his match, because it means that they will not see that he is not part of the starting lineup.

for seven of the people in the locker room, winning the competition is an aspiration, but for one of them it is an expectation. and for the remaining individual, the competition in itself is an opportunity, but for an entirely different reason.

winter, present: regular season

inevitably, you find out. when discrepancies start to occur between training, pre-game meetings and the actual games, it is only a matter of time before you start to notice them.

it starts off with the uncommon plays that are simply a response to the game situation–ones that are dire and not often brought up prior to them actually occurring. during their fourth regular game of the season, the red devils are behind by two goals. the last period is almost over when they miraculously gain the power advantage after two of the opposing players are sent to the penalty box in quick succession.

before you realise what is happening, hongjoong gives his team a signal and both yunho and mingi on defence and san in the goal all rush forward to attack with the wings. you can only watch with wide eyes as they risk an empty net in the hopes of scoring two much-needed goals to even the playing field.

wooyoung manages to score one with a quick shot, but with the release of the opponents from the penalty box, their advantage is put to an end and they ultimately finish the match with a loss. you do not dwell too much on their sudden change in tactics despite the lack of communication with you, because you understand that every single game requires a different approach. sometimes, there is no time to strategise, only time to act.

but one occurrence turns into two, and two turns into several. and when, during one of their matches the week prior, jongho and wooyoung swap positions on the left and right sides of the rink as soon as the youngest replaces yeosang’s shift, it becomes quite conclusive that they are deliberately withholding information from you.

the boys are not brainless. it is not a coincidence for you and the team to discuss one game plan in the locker room only for it to completely change the moment they step onto the hockey rink.

you silently watch as the boys prepare for a faceoff in their defensive zone. they are currently playing against the incheon bears and the timing of the penalty puts you all on edge; the score is currently tied four to four and only twelve seconds are left on the clock. you had requested a time-out right as the referee made the call in hopes of stopping the momentum of the opposing team and to tell the boys to play defensively for this faceoff.

“play it safe. stall for the last twelve seconds and drag the game into overtime,” you had ordered.

the incheon bears have made a shift change with their player number four coming on for the faceoff, their right wing who has low stamina but terrifyingly accurate shots. he is responsible for most of his team’s goals and several other scoring attempts that san had only just managed to block. you are also almost certain that they will be aggressively body checking your players to make this faceoff count for them. your forwards have to play safely–not just for the sake of the game’s score.

at your defensive suggestion, san had nodded in agreement with you, “forwards need to make passes with sure lanes–nothing that can risk getting intercepted. go for the reverse setup play if you guys can.”

“we don’t need to take this into overtime,” hongjoong had started to argue, “other than number four, the rest of their offence is weak. as long as we break past him, we have an opportunity to score.”

“captain–”

the whistle blows before mingi can give his two cents, the mere thirty seconds for the time-out far too short, and the boys hurry to enter the rink again. hongjoong leans in quickly to say something to them before they disperse into their positions and mingi glances at you, almost guiltily.

you do not have the confidence that your team will listen. san may have seen the advantages in favouring a defensive play, but he is not the one who will decide which direction the puck will go when the referee drops it onto the ice. hongjoong is.

the hand of the referee raises to signal the start of the faceoff and both team’s centre forwards lower their stance. then the puck hits the ice. hongjoong’s nimble reflexes help him to snap his wrist and twist the puck away from the incheon bear’s player, wooyoung already surging ahead with explosive strides towards the other end of the rink. but just as you fear, the opponent’s left wing thunders at hongjoong with horrifying speed, intention solely to bowl him over onto the ice–not to steal the puck.

“fuck, captain!” you yell, heart leaping up into your throat as it cuts off your breath.

hongjoong’s eyes snap upwards and darken, jaws aching from the force with which he grinds his teeth together despite his mouthguard. he suddenly pivots on the edges of his skates and shifts his weight to only just narrowly miss the body check, then flicks the puck away before another player can knock him down.

he does not need to look before passing to where he knows wooyoung will be, years of synergy allowing their plays to connect seamlessly. except incheon bear’s number four has predicted their exact play, having been watching from the benches and noting your forwards’ preference for aggressive attacks.

“shit,” yunho curses under his breath, ice shaving under his skates from the accelerating force of his strides towards the puck. he is not going to make it in time. “mingi!”

seonghwa jolts up to his feet from the player’s bench, chest mid-inhale with apprehension at the captain’s pass. the puck is intercepted within the blink of an eye and with a well-timed punch turn around yunho’s attempt to regain possession, the rival team’s number four makes a shot for the goal.

it is too fast for mingi’s stick to block–arm still stretching out with desperation–and although san drops down to his knees in hopes of barricading the goal with his leg pads, the trajectory of the puck arcs higher than he had predicted.

as the puck soars past san and hits the netting of the goal, the buzzer sounds in tandem with the eruption of cheers around the rink. all around, the incheon bears swarm towards their number four in joyous celebration. mingi leans over to rest his hands on his knees from both exhaustion and defeat, and the other boys stand in similar stances as the outcome of the game registers in their tired minds.

in an attempt to cheer them up despite his own disappointment, seonghwa half-heartedly smiles at his boys as they slowly start to trudge their way off the rink. “we played well, boys. it was unlucky that our pass got intercepted, but we can do better next time.”

“good thing it isn’t the playoffs yet,” yunho tries to joke, “so we’re still in the competition.”

nobody cracks a smile and wooyoung’s face is dark, hand grabbing the walls in support to favour his left foot whilst lifting his skates over the slight ledge of the bench door. noting his slight limp, san quietly murmurs in worry, “did you tape your ankle?”

wooyoung shakes his head. “i ran out. forgot to buy some yesterday.”

“make sure you ice it tonight then, okay?” san gently supports him by the elbow to the benches so they can loosen the laces of their skates and grab their things before heading to the locker room.

you look away to flip through the notebook in your hand instead, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. ice hockey is a contact sport and you cannot protect the players from every single collision, but that last body check that hongjoong had been unprepared for still has acid pooling into your mouth. you scratch the score ‘4-5’ onto a page filled with their scores from this season thus far. a quick calculation tells you that the red devils have just as many losses as they have wins, which in all honesty, is not looking good.

this…conflict needs to be cleared with the team–with hongjoong. you cannot let this concealment of tactics and blatant changing of strategies right in your face continue any longer, because at the rate they are going, they may not even make it into the playoffs. and as you make eye contact with san, who has been staring despondently at the puck that still lies in his goal, you know that you must clear the air for the team, too. the last thing you need is for their own teamwork to fall apart because their differing opinions on your coaching starts to drive a wedge between them.

san stills when you break your gaze and glance away to pivot on your heels in the direction of the changerooms. from the way your mouth thins and neck becomes rigid, he is quite certain you are not happy—and rightfully so, san must admit. he stalls time by slipping off his bulky gloves and freeing his hands up to remove his helmet and mouthguard too.

noting that the other boys have grabbed most of their belongings, san heads off first to meet you, knowing that they will follow him soon after. he walks down the corridor easily balancing on his skates and rounds the corner to their locker room. except the sight that greets him has his feet halting and taking a step back behind the doorway.

your hand is deep in one of their bags. san is unsure whose bag it is, but the brief glimpse of the black canvas bag he caught is enough to tell him that it is one of theirs. although he is not making any accusations, he also cannot think of a reason as to why you would be rummaging through their bags.

“why are you just standing there?”

jongho’s voice startles him and he mumbles, “nothing,” before stepping through the door with the rest of his team. you are sitting on a bench in front of an empty locker now and if he did not know better, san would think that he had imagined the last minute. he glances discreetly at the bag you had been poking through and recognises it as wooyoung’s.

gingerly seating himself in front of his own locker, san waits on edge as mingi also grasps the atmosphere and sits too. gradually, the boys read the room with tactful glances and linger on their feet or on the benches. all except for one.

“what was that?” you cut through the silence with a directed question at hongjoong.

the captain continues to toss his gloves into his unzipped bag at the bottom of his locker before proceeding to unlace his skates, not once turning to look at you.

“what was what?”

you know fully well that he is aware of what you are talking about but you decide to humour him as you elaborate, “that last faceoff. i clearly told you to play defensively, but you went against it to try for a goal. and let me guess, you told the others to ignore what i said.”

“and so what if i did?” hongjoong challenges. yeosang’s wide eyes dart from side to side and yunho watches on uneasily as his captain finally turns to glare at you. “in that moment–as a player on the rink–i saw the opportunity and took it. if there is a chance to attack, then my team takes it. we don’t run away like cowards.”

the successive jabs at your athletic retirement cause a lick of phantom heat to wrap around your shoulder. your jaw grinds as you hold yourself back from biting the bait. “then i’m curious as to what opportunity you saw every time you decided to withhold game tactics from me, or every time you changed the strategy the moment you and your team stepped foot onto the rink.”

“maybe we would respect and listen to your coaching if it actually suited the playing style of our team. heavy defence may have worked for the grey eagles, but i think you need to reevaluate your abilities as a coach because it seems like you are forgetting that we are not them. forcing us to play defensively like your past team is not going to work for shit, coach,” hongjoong mocks.

you scoff to the side, questioning your own ears. it borders on a laugh, because that is his reason? you have been adjusting their playing style not only based on the situation that arises each game, but in general for their own good. earning his respect be damned, you will not stand for this.

you return the same scornful tone, “well then, captain, considering you just lost the fucking match because you were too arrogant to defend for twelve fucking seconds, i think you should also reevaluate yourself. are you acting in the best interest of your team, or are you acting in the way that best strokes your own ego? and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you.

“if you do not have the decency to at least tell me what you have discussed with the boys so that i can adjust the plays accordingly, then i think the shit results of your games so far speak for themselves. teams have a coach for a reason whether you like it or not…or maybe i should say, whether you trust them or not,” you snap.

running your stressed fingers through your hair, you tear your eyes away from hongjoong’s defiant eyes. the two youngest avoid your gaze, whereas yunho and yeosang simply stare at you with their jaws slack at a loss for words. the fire within you almost quenches when your eyes skim over san, mingi and even seonghwa, who are fiddling with their jerseys with guilt.

the room suddenly feels too small and too stuffy. “change. the bus will be waiting outside,” you mumble, then you leave without a further word.

nobody in the room moves in the wake of the argument, not even hongjoong, who continues to bore holes in the doorway that you have just disappeared through. yunho’s eyes awkwardly dart back and forth between hongjoong and the other boys before they land on the bench you had been sitting on.

the notebook you are always holding is still there, left behind in your haste to leave. he stands up to grab it, turning on his heels to chase after you when the open pages catch his eye. “woah,” yunho breathes out, double-taking and bringing the notebook closer towards him to read the contents. “this is insane.”

you have marked down not only their score for every single game they have played this season, but you have also tracked the statistics of who has scored, assisted, or successfully defended a shot. yunho flips back through the pages as the other boys come to crowd around him. there are logs of their major games from the past five years, diagrams of their faceoff plays and formations, analyses of their strengths in games won and similarly, analyses of their weaknesses in games they have lost.

“oh, fuck,” mingi curses when yunho flips to the more recent pages and they see that you have compiled the same details and information, only more concisely, for every single opponent team the red devils have played against this season. there is no way of seeing this–hours upon hours of hard work–and still questioning your intentions as their coach. “i think we owe coach a huge fuckin’ apology.”

hongjoong immediately furrows his eyebrows with displeasure. “are you taking her side, mingi?”

“captain,” mingi deliberately calls. it is at times like this where being the only logical thinker in the team has its merits. it may be harsh, but mingi must draw the line between their professional and personal life. this dispute must stay strictly within the bounds of their career without blurring the lines over into their romantic involvement with one another, otherwise things could get messy real fast.

mingi stares at the captain as he reasons, “this isn’t about taking sides. from a solely rational point of view, i think it may have been better for us to play safe and defend like coach had suggested.”

from beside him, san nods in agreement. mingi continues, “and i’m not just talking about today–there were a lot of times when coach’s plays might have worked out better than bulldozing ahead with offence. yeah, we’ve won a few games but we’ve also lost just as many. how many of those could we have won if we had trusted coach?”

yunho backs him up whilst gesturing vaguely between the both of them and san, “it’s easier for the three of us to see from defence, but their forwards were already close to intercepting our faceoffs quite a few times that game.”

hongjoong’s immediate thought is to defend himself, because he is their captain and their centre forward; the one who leads them into opportunities to score and win. he knows that every single time he chooses an aggressive play, it is at the risk of weaker defence. the odds have never deterred him, though, because he has always been confident in his abilities–in his team’s abilities.

but if, even now with the palpable experience of losing because of his own decision, it still does not deter him from taking risks in a situation where offence may be his downfall, then is he confident…or overconfident?

it is quiet for a moment. hongjoong swallows the urge to justify against their opinions–against your opinions–instead looking around at his team. he meets jongho’s round eyes and he remembers one of the very reasons why he is so committed to leading the red devils to the gold trophy. why, if he is becoming a hurdle instead to their victory, then he needs to change. “what does everybody else think? seonghwa?”

“we’ve been wary of y/n all this time, but the more games we play and especially after…” the alternate captain vaguely gestures in the air, “...today, we should really work with her instead of relying on ourselves. we’ve seen her notebook, too, and i think that’s more than enough for us to see that the effort and resolve she places in our team is genuine. we need to acknowledge that and apologise.”

“not even coach cho went to these lengths, and most definitely not coach yeon,” yeosang shrugs as he offhandedly comments.

spurred on by everybody else, san carefully voices the thought that has been lingering on his mind, “i think it’s time to tell her the truth. we owe her that much.”

the truth. the wounds that not even coach cho knows of.

hongjoong’s distrust in you may have initially been true to his desire to protect his boys from something like that from happening again. but he is now realising that you may have seen right through him. perhaps at some point in time, it became unwillingness to trust you, blinded by his prideful title as the demon king of the ice rink but at the expense of his team under the guise of wanting to safeguard them.

exhaling shakily, voice thick with regret, hongjoong accepts, “i’ve let you all down, haven’t i?”

“no,” yunho gently rebukes. “letting us down would be refusing to listen to us. we trust you for a reason, hongjoong.”

not just as a captain, but as everything else too.

seonghwa wraps an arm comfortingly around him. with hongjoong’s demonic presence on the ice once he is in the zone, it is easy to forget that he actually has a shorter stature than all of them. “that’s right, we trust you,” seonghwa affirms. “the next step is for us to trust our coach as well. we’re a team, but it isn’t complete without our coach.”

“and this apology isn’t yours alone to bear,” yunho reminds. “like seonghwa said, we’re a team and we all have fault in our behaviour towards y/n. if i’m honest, i had a shitty attitude and gave her a hard time at the start too,” he admits, wincing at the memory.

yunho is not the only one who grimaces as they reflect on their own actions–whether they happened when you were first introduced to the team, during your first training together, or even up until today’s game. but wooyoung, who has been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, still has a niggling doubt: one that is most personal to him in comparison to the rest of the team.

wooyoung reveals his thoughts, “but what about her choice to stop playing? i still can’t think of a good reason that i can respect her for having retired.”

“then we ask her,” mingi proposes.

jongho nods, also curious to know whether there is more to your decision than you have let on. “today, though? we don’t really want to come off as accusatory or anything. it might be good to give her some space today.”

“what’s our schedule looking like tomorrow? training?”

everyone looks at seonghwa, the most likely person to know their schedule off by heart. he does, and he scratches his head as he recalls, “no, recovery day. low-intensity cardio in the morning and…a team meeting with coach in the afternoon.”

“tomorrow it is, then,” hongjoong concludes. there are hums of agreement and the decision appears to appease wooyoung enough for the boys to start dispersing, heading to their lockers to finally start changing out of their gear.

wooyoung tosses his helmet and gloves onto the bench in front of his locker before sitting with a sharp but discreet inhale. he carefully loosens the laces on his skates, easing the left one off his foot slowly. the relief is immediate and his fingertips gingerly touch the throbbing area around his ankle. it is not too swollen, but he will need to ice it when they get back to their apartment and he will definitely need to buy more tape.

he sheds off the rest of his gear and uniform, leaving them on the bench too to air out while he takes a quick shower. as he roughly towels his wet hair afterwards, he drags his kit bag further out to make it easier to toss everything in.

“huh?” wooyoung makes a noise of confusion when he unzips the bag, hand immediately reaching in to grab the item that has caught his eye. it is partially covered by his hoodie but he would be able to recognise the packaging anywhere.

“what’s wrong?” san asks, glancing over.

the younger brandishes the brand new roll of strapping tape he has found in his bag, the frown etched across his face slowly relaxing into amused exasperation as he reasons, “i must not have seen this in my bag all along.”

san is about to snort and make fun of his inattentiveness, but a sudden thought stuns the smile off his face. it was not that wooyoung had managed to miss the spare roll in his bag. it was–

“y/n,” he quietly exhales with realisation.

at wooyoung’s questioning what?, san looks at him with upturned eyebrows. “the tape–coach was the one who put it in your bag, right before we all walked in here.”

“this…she gave it to me?” wooyoung’s face drops, remorse evident in the thickness of his voice. “but why?”

san gently squeezes his shoulder with a smile, simply answering, “because she’s our coach.” he turns to zip up his own kit bag and leaves wooyoung to digest the revelation. the boy is quiet for the rest of the time, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead and absentmindedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room.

when they exit the ice arena, they do not expect to see you. and yet, there you stand beside their bus waiting stonily with your jacket zipped up and hands in your pockets. you mentally count them off without acknowledging them as they start to store their kit bags under the bus and board. yeosang gets on first, taking a seat near the front of the bus as usual. he watches from the window as you wait for the rest of the boys.

you follow jongho up the stairs, the last to load his kit bag, and tell the driver that you are all good to leave. yeosang sits a little straighter as he tucks his small backpack further under the seat in front of him with his feet, having left the seat beside him empty. but before he can open his mouth with an offer of a seat, you have already sat right behind the driver. yeosang leans back into the cushions of his seat, unfamiliar with the sense of disappointment he feels.

the ride back from the competition venue–much less after a lost game–is always quiet, players both physically and mentally exhausted from the strain. this time, though, it is strikingly silent, but you appreciate it–need it.

you stare out of the window as the trees flicker past like a repetitive motion film. most of their leaves have already fallen off, littering the ground in a blur of tragic glory. and with the beginning of winter, the trees will soon become completely bare, bringing about the period of time when there is nothing but bleak emptiness.

winter, 2019: regular season

‘2019 ice hockey rookie stars tournament: team standings’

hongjoong stares at the printed piece of paper with seonghwa at his side, where the results of all the team’s round-robin games have been taped up onto the walls of the stadium. hongjoong does not even bother reading from the top, eyes going straight down to the bottom of the page instead.

the red devils are dead last, having lost every single one of their matches. even the korean penguins, who had nil wins either, had managed to beat them earlier today, ranking them at the lowest of all teams. it is fucking humiliating and hongjoong hates that the sport that had brought him and his boys all together, that they had immeasurable love for, is now one that fills them with shame and indignity.

nobody else but the two captains of the team have decided to look at the rankings. they had all already known towards the end of the regular season that they would not stand a chance at making it into the playoffs. and yet, hongjoong and seonghwa need to see the results for themselves. it is almost masochistic, forcing themselves to look at the fruitless results of their hard work in their first competition that has so devastatingly crushed their morality.

seonghwa picks at his cuticles fretfully and wonders whether he made the wrong decision to give up his education in pursuit of becoming an athlete. he thinks of his parents, who had encouraged him with supportive smiles and offers of financial support the moment he brought up the idea–was it all in vain?

“are you two done looking?”

both of the boys turn at the question to find a captain with his team waiting to look at the standings.

“yeah, sorry,” hongjoong mumbles before stepping aside to yield his spot. the players swarm forwards and he is pushed further back away from the list like a physical representation of his distance from the playoffs.

somebody from the other team yells, “we made it! we’re in the playoffs!” and they simultaneously break out into cries and cheers as they celebrate together.

hongjoong watches on bitterly, wishing with every cell in his body that that was him and his boys. how is he going to walk back into the locker room as their captain when all of his boys have eyes that are rimmed red and cheeks that are blotchy from despair–when there are captains like that who have successfully led their team to at least a chance at winning the competition.

the feeling of a pinky slowly hooking around his own draws hongjoong out of his pain. “let’s go back,” seonghwa murmurs, tugging him away from the still-celebrating team. together, both of them start to walk back through the hallways to their locker room. 

“aren’t we down here?” seonghwa questions, standing at the t-intersection that hongjoong has absentmindedly walked straight past.

“oh, yeah. sorry,” hongjoong apologises and begins to backtrack. his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a voice. “wait, doesn’t that sound like coach?”

before seonghwa can respond, hongjoong has turned around yet again towards the voice in search of their coach. seonghwa hurries to catch up and that is when he hears it too.

“have you transferred the money?”

“yes, i wired you the remaining amount the moment we won,” a deeper, unrecognisable voice reassures.

hongjoong’s footsteps falter, brows knitting together and head cocking to one side. he gestures for seonghwa to slow down, pressing a finger on his other hand to his lips. both of them creep forward silently.

the unfamiliar voice probes, “your team–you’re sure they don’t suspect anything?”

hongjoong and seonghwa do not need to see him to confirm their suspicions when they hear the unmistakable laughter of coach yeon. through the gravelly sound, he mocks, “they have no fucking clue even though they’ve lost every single one of their games. they’re dumber than fucking sheep. their captain tells me everything about their plays and strategies and they never question it when i change things around.”

seonghwa clutches the back of hongjoong’s jersey with a death grip, knowing that without it, his captain will punch coach yeon’s face into a bloody mess. but as much as their coach deserves it, it is not worth the disciplinary action that will inevitably follow, likely suspension, because–

“plus, even if they do somehow find out, what can they do about it? bullshit, that’s what. they have no evidence and they’re not going to risk blowing this up and ruining their own careers instead,” coach yeon boasts smugly. “losing like that as a rookie group in their first year out is completely normal. no one will believe them, and no coach is going to want their team after that because of their ‘shitty sportsmanship’ or out of fear of being accused in the same way if they lose again.”

at coach yeon’s words, seonghwa scrambles to put them into context with his dread-riddled mind. the echoing pounding in his ears tells him that he has just heard something that was never meant to be known. he does not even notice that the voices start to grow distant as the two men begin to walk off, but hongjoong does.

the trembling grip that is still on the back of his jersey grounds hongjoong enough not to throw everything away and sprint up to coach yeon with vile words and heated fists, but he also cannot do nothing. hongjoong peers around the corner before seonghwa can counteract his movement, desperate to identify who exactly coach yeon is talking to. except the revelation has him reeling, hands white from how hard his fingers dig into his palm–a stark contrast to the deep scarlet of flames that leap forth from his murderous eyes.

because the person who is walking beside coach yeon is the coach of the korean penguins. hongjoong and his boys have not been losing because of their skills they believed to be fucking shit–coach yeon has been fucking ensuring they lose.

for money.

winter, present: regular season

you stand on the balcony of your apartment. the sliding glass doors are shut behind you to keep the heat trapped inside, but for now you welcome the refreshing cold of the winter chill as you simply observe.

below on the streets, the miniature specks of people and cars mill around as if you are watching a game simulation. it is strangely humbling to think that each and every one of the people you see are living their own lives, completely distinct to yours with different yet very real problems of their own, but in the grand scheme of the cosmos, you are all insignificant.

you wonder what concern the people holding their coffee are plagued with right now; what problem the people crossing the street are facing. you wonder, if you were to tell them of your worries and they were to tell you of theirs, would you curse or thank the heavens?

the phone in your hand buzzes. you look to see if it is from coach cho and manage a small smile of relief when the notification is indeed from him.

apologies y/n, i was busy earlier. i can call now if you still need me?

you send an affirmative reply, then slide to answer the call that comes through. “hi coach, sorry to bother you.”

“no, you’re alright. is everything okay?”

you hesitate before revealing, “...i messed things up with the boys.”

“the team?” his voice goes gentle, fatherly nature extending to you too. “what happened?”

“hongjoong and i had an argument today after the game because he keeps changing the team’s plays without letting me know, or even after we’ve agreed on something else. it was only meant to be a talk, but then things escalated and we ended up fighting. i just–i don’t know what you saw in me, coach, because i don’t think i’m fit for the boys,” you ramble. “they’re not listening to me, they probably don’t even like me, and we’re going terribly with the season.”

you take a breath as you timidly admit, “i don’t think we’re going to make it into the playoffs and it’s going to be my fault.”

“hey,” coach cho grounds you, “making the playoffs would be great, yes, but the reality is that most teams don’t. and you’re still very young yourself–this is your, what…fifth year of coaching?”

throat too sticky to formulate a response, you simply hum.

“when i first started coaching, i was older than you and it was still a steep learning curve during my first ten years. i believed that coaches deserved the utmost respect and that my opinion was final. they’re my players, so of course i should be the one laying down the laws,” he chuckles. “but growing up was realising that whilst the respect is still there, it needs to be mutual. coaching a team is not a hierarchy of ‘i command, you listen’, but a show of leadership with the captain at the front of the team–not on top of them.”

his words strike a chord within you. coaching the boys was frustrating because they were not listening to you. but it should never have been a case of who listens to who–it should always have been a reciprocated relationship of everyone listening to one other.

as if he can physically feel the guilt that is starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, coach cho draws your attention to something else. “remember what i told you when we met the team for the first time? why i chose you specifically?”

“because of our similar playing styles?” you recall.

“exactly,” he confirms, “you know best the strategies and plays that work, and what their strengths and weaknesses are, because they were also your own. you need to be a coach to their playing style, not the other way around–they shouldn’t be a player to your coaching style.”

you cannot help but worry, “what if they get injured?”

“y/n, this is where your similarities can either be your biggest flaw or your greatest asset as a coach. no matter how safely they play, there will always be a risk of injury. that is just how the sport works and you know that the best. you can teach them to assess the risk and pull back if they really need to, but ultimately, there is no way of eliminating the risk completely.” coach cho pauses, then asks, “if you could meet your younger self, would you make yourself change your playing style?”

would you? as you imagine what you would tell your past self if you had the chance to, you find that you do not have an answer. perhaps for the sake of a prolonged career, you would. but then would it be your passion and skills that are playing the game, or your fears and worries?

if you cannot come to a decision even for yourself, then it is completely unfair for you to restrain the boys within the cages of what you view as safety for their own good. harnessing the defensive skills may have been functional for the grey eagles, but like hongjoong said, you are coaching the red devils now and it is not working for them. you must come to terms that you cannot protect the boys at every opportunity–consciously or unconsciously–you need to be a coach to them.

coach cho, aware that you have come to a conclusion, asks you one final question, “have you told the boys why you retired?”

“no, not yet,” you shake your head. you already have an idea of what he is going to say to you next.

“i think it’s time for you to tell them,” he advises. “remember, y/n, sometimes you need to be vulnerable with them first before you can make things right.”

after coach cho ends the call, you do not make a move to go back inside the apartment. you stay standing on your balcony, arms folded as you lean against the handrail listening to the faint rumble of traffic and hustle of busy activity. life goes on, and so will yours; you just have to make it count.

the trees on the streets may be stripped bare and lonely throughout winter, but eventually you learn to appreciate its nothingness. it is a necessity in order to start afresh.

mingi stares at the blinking cursor that sits in the open search bar. it has been empty for the last twenty minutes since he started up his laptop, wondering whether it would be an invasion of privacy for him to look you up on the internet.

he makes up his mind. he knows that he was the one to tell wooyoung only mere hours ago that they would ask you about your decision to retire tomorrow at the meeting, but mingi supposes it would not hurt to simply see what sort of athlete you were like before.

typing your full name into the search engine, mingi hits ‘enter’ and waits for the results to appear. he combs through the first several links quickly. they all have the same information; ice hockey databases and websites that detail your age, nationality, physical stats and position, but the sections that usually list your team and agency are now blank.

mingi is surprised to learn you were also a centre forward. he scrolls down to your game logs and match statistics that span from 2014 to 2019. you have won an impressive number of championships, most notably the under-18 and under-21 women’s ice hockey league. they are both international competitions and mingi is not sure how your reputation has flown under all of their radars.

frowning, he goes back to the search engine and clicks on the next page in an attempt to find more information. it is not until he clicks yet again to the next page that he finds a low-reputed news article from almost eight years ago where you are the main subject.

‘y/n l/n, youngest player of ‘black cats’, wins ice hockey championship at the age of sixteen’ the headline reads. there is not much to the article, but it outlines your admirable achievement at your young age as a rising prodigy in the ice hockey scene. mingi agrees, since he knows that you also go on to win another international competition a few years after that. just as he is about to close the tab, there is a recommended link that catches his eye.

he hovers his cursor over it. the hyperlinked headline does not explicitly say your name, but the phrasing really only alludes to one athlete considering it is a recommended link on your article. mingi does not know whether he wants to click on it, though, because he is afraid of confirming it is you.

and if it is…then the others will also need to see this too.

“hongjoong, guys, come look at this,” mingi calls out, balancing his laptop on his forearm as he walks out into the open living room. the others look up from where they are sitting or emerge from out of their rooms at his summon.

“what’s this?” hongjoong reaches out to receive the laptop and places it on the table. his eyes skim the screen, trying to make sense of what mingi is showing them.

mingi points to the hyperlink he had been mulling over. “i think we need to look at this.”

solemnity washes over the boys as their curious gazes dull and darken, realisation of what exactly they are reading dawning upon them. all at once, their hearts clench in solidarity. hongjoong clicks on the link. the only sound that permeates the silence is the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. nobody talks. nobody moves.

ice hockey star announces retirement following shoulder injury june 18, 2019 star player y/n l/n, centre forward of the ‘black cats’, has announced her retirement from professional ice hockey today. her decision follows lingering issues after suffering from a rotator cuff tear during the grand finals of this year’s under-21 women’s ice hockey league. l/n has been under the ice hockey spotlight ever since her win in the under-18’s league as the youngest player on her team. she is well-known for her offensive threat to the opponents, bold playing style and unparalleled skill breaking through the lines of defence.  during the grand finals in april, l/n was body checked from the side by ‘polar bears’’ kim hyejin. although full-body checking is illegal in women’s hockey, it is not uncommon during the heat of competitions. l/n suffered a severe right rotator cuff tear and is reported to have received open surgery last month. l/n did not provide further details about her recovery, however stated that she plans to focus on her physical rehabilitation in the meantime.

the glare of the screen stares back at the boys as they finally understand exactly why you had retired and why you had come back as a coach–you were unable to fully step away from the sport you so loved with your entire life.

“coach wasn’t telling us to play defensively at all the crucial times just for the sake of the game strategy…” seonghwa grasps.

“...but because she didn’t want the same thing to happen to us,” hongjoong finishes. one of your heated remarks during your argument with him suddenly resounds in his mind: and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you. you had been reliving your own demons every single time hongjoong and his boys were playing aggressively on the ice. “fuck,” he mutters.

mingi leans down a little. “wait, see if there are any other articles about this.”

fingers dancing across the keyboard, hongjoong opens up a new tab. another quick search of your name with the keywords ‘injury’ and ‘retirement’ yields no further articles. mingi is certain you would have had more media coverage considering you had suffered an injury at the rising peak of your prodigious career, so he finds it strange that there is close to no information about this.

“it almost looks as if somebody had the articles purged from the internet,” mingi observes.

jongho nods with furrowed brows, “maybe y/n? but why would she go to the length to remove them?”

“i mean, wooyoung didn’t exactly go around flaunting off his injury to the media. maybe she didn’t want the attention anymore,” yeosang guesses.

yunho nudges wooyoung playfully as he comments, “no offence to you, but none of us are exactly famous enough for the media to take interest in our injuries.”

“i think the real question is why coach didn’t tell us that her injury was the reason why she stopped playing,” seonghwa wonders, “it was never really a choice like she made it out to be.”

none of them know the answer. hongjoong slowly closes the laptop, exhaling deeply, “we’ve got a lot of things to clear up tomorrow…and a lot of apologising. i’m going to sleep early. you all should too.”

with that, he gets out of his seat and disappears into his bedroom. hongjoong’s mind is heavy and crowded and he knows he is going to be awake for a while.

nobody sleeps well that night. especially wooyoung.

spring, 2023: playoffs

“what do you mean i can’t compete in the playoffs?”

“you have a fractured ankle, wooyoung. the playoffs are honestly the least of your concerns and if you keep straining yourself like this, it won’t just be the playoffs that you can’t compete in–it’ll be the rest of your life,” coach cho admonishes.

“but this is our first proper championship, coach,” wooyoung begs, “you have to let me play.”

coach cho hates that he has to say no and if he could swap ankles with his player, he would do so in a heartbeat. “this isn’t a choice. you physically cannot play. what are you going to do out there on the ice? crawl?”

“fuck, coach, you don’t understand. it was so hard for us to get to this point. this means everything to me, fuck, please,” wooyoung pleads between heaving breaths.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung,” coach cho apologises, leaving no further room for argument as the other boys divert their gazes to the floor.

hongjoong gently squeezes wooyoung’s shoulder. “the doctor said that your cast can come off in about eight weeks and if it’s looking good, you can gradually join in on any light training when it’s off-season.”

wooyoung does not care because in eight week’s time the playoffs will already be over. he knows he is being unreasonable and that there is no chance he will be able to set foot in an ice rink within the next two months. but his heart and mind are operating separately and the only thing his heart can see is the opportunity of playing in the championships slipping right out of his grasp.

he is already angry at himself for getting injured in the first place but it is not enough to quell wooyoung’s raging inferno. so he does the only thing he can think of in the moment–he spits out his anger with a venomous, “i hate you all.”

it hurts the boys more to see wooyoung hurting and coach cho speaks up on their behalf, “i would rather you hate us now than for you to hate yourself in the future because you traded decades of your career for this one playoff.”

wooyoung jerks his head away defiantly, but they know he is only trying to hide his tears. unable to watch any longer, san moves in closer and pulls the younger into his arms.

“fuck off, san. i don’t need you.”

san swallows the hurt in his chest because he knows there is no truth behind wooyoung’s words. “i know you don’t,” he offers, “but i need you. so just let me stay.”

wooyoung’s body sags as all of the fight slips out of him in the form of shuddering sobs. san embraces him tightly, as if he has picked up all the pieces of the other and only a hug can make him whole again.

“i’m sorry,” wooyoung chokes out.

san shakes his head with reassuring hushes, “don’t be. you focus on recovering and we’ll take it from here.”

like that, wooyoung’s anger is quenched and the team goes on to compete in the playoffs without him. but in the absence of anger comes other emotions, jealousy and insecurity the ugliest of them all. wooyoung despises the bitter taste in his mouth as he sits on the player’s bench outside of the rink each game, only able to helplessly watch his team advance further in the playoffs without him.

and as much as wooyoung wants them to win, he also does not want them to win, because if they can win the championships without him playing as their left wing, then do they really need him at all? he never gets to find out the answer though. they lose in the quarter finals.

wooyoung does not tell anybody about the ill relief he feels…and he vows to take that secret with him to the grave.

winter, present: regular season

the moment you walk into kq’s meeting room, a rehearsed apology for the team on the tip of your tongue, you realise that something is off. not necessarily wrong, per se; just off.

all the boys are sitting around the table as usual, though the overhead projector that is routinely already set up with video footage of their recent games has been put on standby mode. but the thing that unconsciously makes your hackles rise is the expression they all nurse on their faces, strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time. it is familiar in the sense that people have looked at you this way in the past, but it is foreign in the sense that it has never come from the boys before.

“hi, coach,” hongjoong clears his throat awkwardly, opting to look at the wall behind you instead of your eyes as if even he knows this is the first time he has ever addressed you as such. “we had a…talk last night and thought we should probably clear up a few things before we discuss the actual games.”

although you share the same sentiment as they do, hongjoong’s words put you on guard. gingerly, you lower yourself into an empty seat across from him. “i also have a couple of things to say, but you guys start,” you cue.

hongjoong glances at seonghwa beside him, who in turn gives him a miniscule shrug. neither of them know how to bring it up with you as they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. thankfully, mingi steps in, not one to beat around the bush.

“why didn’t you tell us about your injury?” he asks directly.

with mingi’s question, you are suddenly able to place their expression. the boys look at you warily as if you are a wounded animal they are afraid will run away. you loathed the expression years ago when it was from your coach, your teammates and your family–the constant treading on eggshells around you with pitying eyes–and you still loathe it just as much as you do now.

your prickles emerge and your instinctive reaction is to deny it. you have kept your injury a secret up until now for a reason and the unexpected confrontation has all of your sirens blaring to keep it a secret. but then you remember coach cho’s advice–you remember the apology you had mulled over all night–and you force your prickles to retract.

you take a breath. coach cho would not have told them about your injury, so there is only one way the boys could have found out about it. “you read the articles, didn’t you?”

mingi at least has the decency to look sheepish as he admits, “one…but there weren’t any others.”

“i thought as much,” you mumble to yourself, smiling tightly. you choose not to think about how they came across the article. “i wanted them all removed and my agency managed to pull enough connections to sweep the articles under the rug, but i should have known that in this day and age it would be impossible to get rid of any media completely.”

the question remains as to why you have chosen to keep this hidden and also–

“why did you want them removed, though?” hongjoong furrows his brows.

you have faced countless demons in the last six years. the injury itself, the abrupt end to your golden days, and the forced reconciliation with the fact that you will never be able to play again. and yet, the demon that continues to haunt you to this day is the media spotlight that chases after you as if you are a circus animal.

you are unable to look at any of them in the eye as you finally bare yourself open to the boys. “the articles felt belittling and shameful–they still do. they made me feel less as an athlete then and they make me feel less as a coach now. i worked my heart and soul to get to where i was with the skills that i had, but you don’t understand just how crippling it is for all of that to be overshadowed by an injury. it was no longer a celebration of my achievements, simply because nobody cared anymore. it just became a fucking broken record of, ‘how does it feel to have fallen at the peak of your career?’

“then when i became a coach, it didn’t matter how well my team performed or how hard they worked to win the championships. the question became, ‘how does it feel to coach after being forced to retire because of your injury?’ no matter how hard i tried, i just could not escape the hellhole of my injury.”

guilt settles in the pit of mingi’s stomach as it also does for the others. they may not have written the article, but by consuming it and searching for more, they had unknowingly joined the faceless masses of those who had hurt you.

you dig your thumbs into the flesh of your thighs to stop your voice from shaking as you continue, “the media will not care for the achievements that myself or my players accomplish when there is something even better–a sob story. but i do not need that kind of pity. not from athletes, not from other coaches, and most definitely not from strangers silently pitying my life from behind their newspaper or screen when i did not ask for any of it. i made people forget and i kept this all hidden because my career, be it as a coach or a former athlete, does not deserve to be reduced to that kind of shit.”

the raw honesty behind your words strikes the boys silent. what they thought they had started to understand about you, they are now realising was barely the tip of the iceberg. seonghwa wonders for just how long you have left this wound bleeding and untreated. he calls out for you sadly, “coach, you should’ve told us.”

when you look up, you are surprised to find wetness brimming his eyes. you feel the hot rush of emotions build up behind your own eyes but from anger, because why is he upset? what reason does he have to cry when you are the one who has suffered all this time?

your voice is biting when you respond, “and have you look down on me like everybody else? i just said, i do not need your pity–”

“it’s not pity,” a voice interrupts firmly. of all people, you least expected it to come from wooyoung. his tone stays unyielding as he holds your gaze. “we’re athletes too, y/n.”

the way he includes you in the collective–as an athlete–has your glare softening immediately, replaced by the dangerous quivering of your bottom lip while he elaborates, albeit voice gentler now, “we are hurting for you–with you. it is not pity; it is standing by your side in hopes that we can help you up if you ever fall again.”

because it is okay to fall, and you will fall; wooyoung knows that the best.

you tilt your head upwards as you desperately blink back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. the swell of emotions that had churned in your chest had not been anger but fatigue, you realise. wooyoung’s words give you sudden clarity that you are tired–of suffering alone and in silence. you want help.

“i’m tired of hurting,” you confess quietly.

“then let us share the hurt with you.”

the dam breaks and your tears fall freely down your cheeks. it starts off with a nod so miniscule that the boys think they have imagined it, but then slowly and surely, your head moves up and down with more conviction. “okay,” you whisper.

you had always thought that you had come to terms with your injury and the end of your career, but perhaps you are still mourning your loss…and perhaps that is okay. like looking into a time-warped mirror, wooyoung sees the fight slip out of your body with a sob as you apologise, “i’m sorry.”

san wants to cross the room and wrap his arms around you if it can take away even just a fraction of your hurt. but he knows that he cannot cross the boundaries of professionalism despite the intimate nature of the conversation right now, especially when you and the team are only just starting to patch things up. so instead, he opts to rub his thumb over the knuckles of wooyoung’s hand from under the table, which has slipped into his, hoping that one day he will be able to do the same for you.

“we understand,” hongjoong answers on their behalf, “you were doing what you needed to do in order to protect yourself.”

and if you do not realise that he says those words for himself and his team to hear too, then you will by the end of the conversation as you walk away with a newfound understanding of them.

“no, not just for that,” you shake your head, roughly swiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “it ended up negatively influencing the way i coached you guys, even if it was subconscious. i let my own trauma dictate how i wanted you to play: defensively all the time whether it was needed or not. hongjoong, you were right about me not coaching your team as your team.”

you try your damned hardest to keep your voice steady so that you can look at them properly to apologise, “i’m sorry i made it so hard to trust me as your coach.”

“okay, let me stop you right there,” yunho smiles gently, sliding a tissue box in your direction. “we were pricks too, so half the apology is ours.”

“don’t call her a prick,” seonghwa whispers. his horrified expression relaxes when you break out into a wet chuckle.

hongjoong is glad that you are able to find something to laugh about even with your cheeks still damp and blotchy, and he finds his mouth curling into a bittersweet smile. you have been honest and vulnerable with them and now it is their turn.

“we have something to tell you about our past coach,” he starts, drawing your gaze to him. “not coach cho–our very first coach. we’re not trying to justify that what we did as a result was okay, but…”

“but hopefully i can understand,” you finish when hongjoong hesitates. he nods and you mirror his action with a reassuring smile to encourage him to talk.

but irregardless of what they tell you, you already know that you want to understand them, because understanding is the first step to forgiving, and you want that too.

so with intermittent comments from the other boys, hongjoong reveals to you the hidden wounds they have been nursing. and as they tell you about coach yeon, how their trust in him had been misplaced, how he had betrayed it for money at the expense of their championship, and how they had then let that become mistrust in you and your reason for retiring, wooyoung finds himself quiet so that he can steal glances at you.

he can see it now. the untameable beast within you of passion for ice hockey that has been forcibly chained down to the ground with the weight of the earth. the devastating torment that must incessantly surge through you in the most debilitating waves, tenfold any anguish he felt when he was unable to compete in the playoffs. the blemished canvas of dark and ghastly emotions that you do not let see the light of day, yet continue to coexist in hidden silence.

it is there and then that wooyoung realises you and him may be more similar than he thought–that you may actually understand him better than any of his seven boys.

you stop the drill.

yeosang gracefully turns in an arc whilst keeping the puck close to his stick as hongjoong and seonghwa dig their skates into the ice to brake before their momentum takes out the younger.

“let’s have jongho try using the perimeter of the rink instead of passing to yeosang this time. start the faceoff again,” you instruct.

the chorus of responses that you receive are zealous, even slightly teasing as the boys lower their voices with a, “yes, coach!” and give you small salutes with their gloved hands. you cannot help but snort and shake your head, waving at them to retake their positions.

practice is short today, since your team has a game tomorrow. the first half an hour consisted of running through offensive formations for power plays and you are now focusing on defensive penalty kills. your two captains and wooyoung are playing as the mock opponents, preparing your remaining wings and defenseman for a situation where they are down a player.

hongjoong seems to mull over a thought as he looks at the formation of his boys. “you mentioned the team we’re playing against has a tendency to position their forwards higher up, didn’t you?” he asks and  when you nod, he suggests, “what do you think about trying the diamond formation instead? might help close some of their shooting lanes.”

with the captain’s input, you reposition yeosang further up to form the tip of the diamond, and yunho too to cover the right point whilst jongho covers the left. mingi moves in a little closer to the goal to cover the bottom of the diamond and you make sure to point out the importance of his position.

“if the opportunity arises, we can transition into a counterattack instead with 3-1. but we’ll need to make sure we still cover the goal in case they turn it back over again–mingi, this will probably be you. support whoever has the puck from behind, but make sure you don’t go too far forward.”

mingi answers with an affirmative and yeosang passes the puck to hongjoong for him to commence the penalty kill. at your whistle, the rink explodes into action. wooyoung and seonghwa immediately split down the perimeters to open up shooting lanes for their captain, who passes the puck off to wooyoung the moment he has cleared half the rink. with a brief adjustment of the puck’s angle, he attempts a cross-ice pass to where seonghwa is free on the other side.

with astonishing speed, jongho intercepts the puck and yells, “3-1!” he continues to barrel forward with the momentum of his explosive acceleration towards the goal as yeosang anticipates a pass and yunho joins the counterattack rush to his right. the three of your players charge forwards with adrenaline as mingi covers them from behind. jongho chips the puck over hongjoong’s stick, which is immediately taken up by yeosang. without a goaltender, he finishes it off with an easy shot into the net.

the tempo and execution of the rush surprises not just you, but the boys themselves too, who are tapping their sticks together with elated excitement at the success of the play. it may only be a simulated practice drill, but you still share in the same pride and contentment that hongjoong’s face glows at you with.

he cocks his head to the side with a paired smile and you return the same nonverbal acknowledgement. corners of your lips still lifted up, you gather the boys, “let’s have a drink break.”

as the boys make their way over to the benches, removing their gloves and helmets, you eye the water bottles and make sure you have enough–five in the cooler and three on the bench beside it. san bounds up to you after grabbing one from the cooler, bragging, “coach! did you see the way jongho intercepted that puck?”

from beside him, wooyoung reenacts the moment with wild flails of his limbs and airy whooshes from his mouth, jongho watching with bashful giggles. you indulge in their animated recount and listen intently. “he was amazingly fast,” you agree.

yeosang passes an opened bottle to wooyoung before untwisting the lid to his own, commenting, “the ankle weights on top of all the training must be working.”

the boys are not currently wearing any, but you had slowly implemented the use of vests, ankle or wrist weights during specific drills. now that they have taken them off and are playing without the burden of the additional mass, you are all starting to see the gains of their hard work.

you smirk with satisfaction, “of course. if my players are going to bulldoze across the ice, may as well make them fast enough to avoid all the opponents.”

“don’t encourage her,” wooyoung elbows yeosang scandalously. “she’s going to make us wear heavier weights next practice.”

“you don’t get to complain if you don’t even wear the weights,” you quip.

he knows his injury means that he cannot wear the weights in case it places stress on his ankle, so he curses at you with no real heat just for the sake of cursing, “fuck you.”

you wink, “love you too.”

wooyoung shuts his mouth and scrunches the bridge of his nose with faux displeasure, and jongho laughs at his inability to faze you. you glance down and open your notebook to mention, “on that note, though, how do we feel about going up a few hundred grams next week?”

“i’m fine with that,” yeosang says at the same time jongho confirms, “sounds good.” most of the other boys also nod that they are fine with increasing their weights, save for seonghwa who notifies you that he is still adjusting so he will keep his as it is for now.

you jot down ticks and crosses next to their names corresponding to their answers whilst suggesting, “yunho and mingi, you can both probably try half a kilogram since your body masses are higher.”

said boys peer over your shoulder to see what their new weights would be, then yunho makes a noise of intriguement. “coach, did you write these?”

you look to where his finger is pointing to–sticky notes upon sticky notes of unorganised observations and reminders to yourself. starting to feel self-conscious, you deny, “...no,” only for yunho to swipe the notebook from out of your grasp. “hey!”

he holds it up and open above him, voice gleeful as he reads one out, “‘jongho, wooyoung and yeosang prefer water at room temperature when training–take bottles out of cooler!’”

“aw, coach,” wooyoung coos, “did you deliberately leave three bottles in room temperature for us on the bench?”

feeling your ears heat up from being exposed, you swipe at the notebook. your skates give you added height, but so do yunho’s skates, so your attempts to jump for it are futile.

“‘boys want to eat abura soba after their win’,” he continues to read, pausing to let out a dramatic gasp, “are you going to treat us, coach?” his question is met with enthusiasm.

when another wild swipe sends a sharp sting down your shoulder from the movement, reminding you of the pain that had flared up a few days ago, you decide to change tactics. you grab the back and front of his jersey with your hands, completely ready to commit to scaling him like a literal tree. but then a different set of hands easily takes the notebook out of yunho’s and of course it would be mingi. you insult, “give it back, you tall buffoon!”

mingi is hardly fazed as you switch targets to him, your fingertips nowhere near reaching the notebook as he snickers and reads, “‘trial jongho as starting forward–wait.” he lowers his hands with sobriety and you are finally able to snatch the notebook back, shutting it before they can read any more of your sticky notes. it is not like there is anything they cannot know, but it is sort of embarrassing for them to see how much attention you pay to them.

“you want jongho on the starting lineup?” mingi confirms that he has not read it wrong, eyes as wide as all the other boys as they look at you.

jongho is almost certain that you must have meant somebody else, or something else, because there is no way that he would be given the opportunity to start for the team–not when they have yeosang and wooyoung as their wings, and the choice of hongjoong or seonghwa as their centres. he is used to being the player who momentarily relieves others of their shift on the ice, or as his parents so like to remind him, option b.

“why do you all look so surprised?” you frown. beckoning at jongho with your chin, you ask, “you’ve been practising hard to make your right hand just as good as your left hand, haven’t you? so let’s take advantage of your versatility and unpredictability on ice and throw the opponents off. what do you think?”

jongho’s mouth opens and shuts, struggling to formulate an answer through his wide beam other than, “i–of course, if you’d let me–if everyone else is happy.”

the pleased smile on hongjoong’s face is enough to make his cheeks sore and he wraps his arm around the youngest’s shoulders. he praises, “look at you, our wild card and our hidden ace,” as seonghwa declares, “i know he’ll do us so proud.”

both yeosang and wooyoung simultaneously offer their positions in the starting lineup and the rest of the boys watch on with fond expressions. they are grateful that you have recognised the talents and hard work of their youngest. although you are not aware, this opportunity holds significance not just in regards to his career.

you conclude, “we’ve been on a good streak with our games. let’s ride the momentum and show the other teams what jongho is capable of–what we’re all capable of.”

“yes, coach!” they shout, the loud echo of their voices reverberating and filling the rink with buzzing energy for the remainder of the training session.

spirits still high by the time you call it a wrap, you let them change as you grab your own belongings. there is a team meeting in the afternoon so you and the boys will be going back to kq to eat at the cafeteria and use the booked room. you pause when you see wooyoung loitering by your bag. he still has not changed out of his practice clothes.

“i’m not letting you on the bus if you’re planning on staying in those clothes,” you joke.

“i’m going to change!” he scowls indignantly, then avoids eye contact as he thrusts something out in your direction. he mumbles, “had some spares. didn’t want them. just dumping them with you so you can stash them or use them or whatever, i don’t care.”

you grab the small bag, brows creased with confusion, but wooyoung dashes away to change before you can ask what it is. you peer inside and to your pleasant surprise, there are two packs of pain relief patches. your shoulder protests at the lack of attention you have given it in the last few days. the pain is chronic and never really goes away, but it has been bothering you more than usual recently, so it is all in good timing that you now have some patches.

you make a mental note to stick one on when you get to the company and grab your bag after ensuring your notebook is stored inside. as you head towards the change rooms to wait for the boys, you spot a piece of paper on the floor. it looks like rubbish that you must have missed on your way in earlier so you pick it up to throw away. but when your fingertips touch the familiar sheen of the wax-like paper, you realise wooyoung must have dropped it.

it is confirmed when you unfold it to read the text and see that it is from yesterday evening, at the pharmacy that is just across the street from the company; in your hands you hold wooyoung’s receipt for two packs of pain relief patches.

spring marks the start of the playoffs. in synchronisation with the burst of life that blooms with the season, your boys, too, flourish in the league.

the unpredictability of your team’s strategies that entail a mix of both yours and hongjoong’s prowess helps to secure wins over the remainder of the regular season. despite the unsteady start to the season, it allows your team to scrape into the round of sixteen near the bottom of the standings.

the red devils are seeded against the team that is third in the rankings, and then against the sixth-standing team in the quarterfinals. in upsets that knock out two of the most anticipated teams in the league, your boys advance into the semifinals, their reputation as the demons of the ice rink that had laid low now rapidly spreading.

where none of the other competitors had paid you and your players any mind before, barely even noticing your presence, the opponents now glance and watch your team walk past with an air of confidence through the arena. their tense jaws and hard gazes size up your athletes–formidable rivals who have suddenly barrelled up the ranks from out of nowhere and now pose perhaps the biggest threat as a team that has somehow slipped under their radars.

you know; your team may be small in numbers. but with yunho and mingi flanking the sides of the boys, and even with hongjoong’s charismatic aura alone leading the front, which extends around him like a dark cloud of terror and envelops the rest of the group too, your team is a pack of predators at the tip of the apex.

other players part to make a path for your boys, whose heads are held high and eyes are set only on their captain and you, their coach, as you all walk to your assigned changeroom. the nerves have long dissipated because the ice rink is your territory and the other teams are your prey.

the moment you shut the door behind the last of them into the room though, the icy stare in wooyoung’s eyes melt and he exclaims, “holy shit, did you see the way everybody was looking at us? we must have looked so fucking hot, i wish i could ask for my own signature.”

from their glowing faces alone, you can tell that they are all basking in the feeling of finally being recognised and reckoned with. yunho bats his eyelids and pinches his voice higher into a falsetto, “oh wooyoung! you’re so handsome and cool, could i please have your signature?”

mingi imitates him and pounces on wooyoung, begging for a photo together as he clings onto his elbow. it sets off the rest of the boys to crowd around like mock fans with faux exhilaration. you snort at their antics, leaving wooyoung to sign imaginary sheets of paper with his imaginary pen in favour of ensuring all of their backup equipment and gear is correctly located outside or in the storage area.

you allow the boys adequate time to change into their full gear for their warm-up prior to the actual semifinal game before you walk back into the locker room. your ears perk up when you catch the end of san’s question, “that’s good for us, isn’t it?”

“what is?” you ask out of curiosity, flipping open the provided cooler and adding several sports drinks into the ice.

“i overheard someone on the white tigers team say that their head coach happened to fall sick, so they have their assistant coach today,” jongho mentions.

the surge of brazen smiles and reassured glints in their eyes at the reveal of information makes you falter to a degree. you lightly chastise, “don’t let that get to your heads and start being cocky–play as you usually do and do not underestimate them just because their head coach is off.”

you pull your notebook out of your bag, the familiar cover and weight of the book providing you with a sense of security as you remind the boys, “the white tigers have a very similar playing style as us. we may have worked hard on our defensive strategies, but with similar strengths and weaknesses overall, it won’t hurt for us to still be cautious.”

“yes, coach,” they chorus.

hongjoong nods, “let’s go warm up, then finalise our starting lineup for the game.”

your team’s allocated time on the rink passes by quickly and it is followed by the last adjustments to the discussed strategies and game plan, thorough checks of their gear, and the remaining boys who are still wearing their practice jerseys change out of the blue into their red game uniform. in full gear, there your boys stand, presence intimidating and demoniac. the boys do not live up to their team name; their team name lives up to them.

they stride through the hallway for their semifinal game against the white tigers. right at the end before it leads to the ice rink, yunho yells, “pep talk, captain!”

hongjoong groans, rolling his eyes, but places the blade of his stick onto the rubber flooring nonetheless. the rest of the boys huddle around, their sticks meeting in the centre of the circle and standing close together so that their helmets and shoulders knock against one another. you are also swept into the circle with yeosang and san by your sides.

“boys…and girl,” hongjoong snickers to himself before recollecting his very inspirational train of thought, “we’ve fought hard to make it this far–this is the first time we’ve made it into the semis, so let’s keep running until the very end, yeah?”

to the team’s increasingly loud cheers, hongjoong yells, “let’s fuck it up out there!”

their sticks hit the ground in unison and despite the muted sound of the cushioned flooring, their shouts of fighting resolve and unwavering determination drown out everything else. together, you emerge from the hallway and your starting players take their positions on the ice, ready to fuck it up.

only, it happens literally.

the moment the puck hits the ice and the white tigers’ centre forward, byun, wrestles it away with his blade, hongjoong immediately knows it is going to be one of those games. the ones where his competitive grit is fueling his mind ablaze but his body is leaden-footed as if he is wading through quicksand; where his body is just unable to keep up and move the way he wants it to. it is one of those days where his condition is just inexplicably off and there is nothing he can do about it except hope that his years of training and sheer aptitude for the sport will be enough.

“fuck,” you curse under your breath at hongjoong’s slip as jongho and yeosang rush to fall back and support those in defence. “he wasn’t like that during the warm-ups.”

byun is not only agile and swift, but is almost an identical reflection of hongjoong’s own bold and assertive offence. the centre forward powers through with evasive turns around yunho’s attempt to body check him, unafraid and confident. passing the blue line into your team’s defensive zone, byun flicks the puck at the goal.

the point shot is an unexceptional attempt to score, nothing that san’s reflexive goaltending cannot take care of. he extends his left foot and blocks the low shot with his leg pad, where the puck then slides in yunho’s direction. you did not doubt for a moment that san would not be able to save the shot, but it is still a close call that is far too early in the game to be a good sign.

your team’s greatest strength is their unspoken synergy and seamless unity, but it is also their greatest weakness. when one player stumbles, particularly when it is their captain–the very roots of the team–their bond runs so deeply that it throws their teamwork out of harmony and ultimately impacts the entire team.

with san’s save, yunho regains possession and handles the puck around the back of their net to shake off the pressure that the white tigers’ forwards are placing on him, as well as to buy his own team some time to reassemble in their formation.

you know that this is not going to work for long; you have to change the momentum of the game, and fast. “seonghwa, get ready,” you alert. “you’re going on for hongjoong.”

the alternate captain stands, alarmed at the unexpected line change so early into the game. he grips his stick with white knuckles and watches his team as he waits for your cue. yunho hits the puck against the boards where yeosang successfully receives the rebound.

“breakout!” yeosang yells and rushes forward with the chasing skates of the opponents nipping at his heels. jongho clears the centre line into the offensive zone at the same time hongjoong screens and blocks the view of the white tigers’ goaltender, setting up for an opportunity to score.

when the opponent’s left defence and wing advance on yeosang rapidly, he fakes a deceptive pass towards the boards before twisting the blade of his stick and flicking the puck between their skates instead in hongjoong’s direction. but like an eagle honing in on a small rodent, byun swoops in to snatch the puck, flipping the possession again.

the tides turn and all the athletes on the rink race towards your team’s net, a cutthroat competition between triumph and desperation to chase the puck. byun passes to the player on his left as they both dash closer, the left forward immediately returning the puck the moment he receives it to break past mingi’s defence.

you are able to see the white tigers’ right wing following closely behind ready for a drop pass, but in your team’s frenzied minds, they are unable to read the play. yunho approaches byun, who is expecting the defence and leaves the puck behind whilst skating on, knowing that it will be received by his trailing teammate. with the momentary confusion that is enough to disrupt both yunho and san’s gaze on the puck, the opponent’s right wing winds his stick back just enough to build power without sacrificing speed, then slaps the puck into the corner of the goal–

–and scores. within the first three minutes of the game.

“seonghwa,” you call out again with urgency as the whistle blows. you turn to look at him, “you’re up. you have to break the flow of the team. not just the white tigers, but ours too–the boys are panicking and you need to help anchor them.”

he nods, steadying his hand on the board in preparation to hop over it, and you yell out for the captain, “change!”

hongjoong sees the gesture of your hand pointing at the bench, and although his chest tightens with frustration at himself, he speeds towards the edge of the rink to change. once the captain is close enough, seonghwa pushes his skate off the benches to launch himself over the top of the boards onto the ice then propels himself forward to take the centre faceoff.

the captain sits down heavily on the bench, defeat already broiling off of his slumped body in smothering swells. you really cannot afford to take your eyes off the game; it waits for nobody and the whistle has already blown, the rink erupting into commotion. but whilst you need to watch the game unfold, you need hongjoong just as much, and his team needs him.

you turn him slightly to face you so that he can see your face of resolution. “you are the captain, so be the captain–for the team…and for yourself,” you invigorate, voice raised so that he can hear you over the noise of the stadium. 

you give his shoulder a hard squeeze, certain he will not be able to even feel it from under the pads of his uniform. regardless, he understands your intentions and nods grimly, the fog in his eyes clearing. wooyoung taps the back of his helmet in a show of encouragement and hongjoong returns the gesture with appreciation. 

a particularly loud thump draws the attention of all three of you back to the game. from the grimace on yeosang’s face and his hand steadying himself on the boards, it is obvious he has just been body checked into the wall. seonghwa pursues the puck with graceful yet powerful speed before he digs both skates perpendicular into the ice to suddenly change direction. pushing off, he accelerates back towards the white tigers’ defensive zone when mingi manages to disrupt the opponent’s stickhandling enough for yunho to sweep the puck and skate it up the perimeter of the rink away from their net.

wooyoung also goes on for yeosang but as the left wing, so jongho switches position to play as the right forward. he skates past the benches when an opportunity arises and he hands off his stick whilst grabbing his right-handed stick from you with practised ease.

with the line change of forwards and with seonghwa on as your centre, your team stabilises to an extent. the red devils are no longer being pushed back but they are also unable to push forward. the game is at a stalemate, although the tides remain in favour of the white tigers with both their positional and psychological advantage of the first goal.

you can see the pressure weighing down on your boys; passes that yunho and mingi would be capable of executing blindfolded are miscalculated; predictable manoeuvres still mislead wooyoung in the wrong direction; seonghwa and jongho fail to notice the opportunities for clear passing and shooting lanes; and the openings appear far too wide and innumerable for san to cover the goal from. the relentless offensive pressure that the white tigers places on your team, strikingly similar to how the boys played when you first started coaching them, does not give any breathing room either.

so that is how the first period comes to an end–losing zero to one with none of your players performing at their best condition. their steps are heavy and burdened as they walk back to the locker room for the intermission, helmets removed the moment they come off the ice to reveal hardened expressions. in the privacy of your assigned room, most of the boys adjust the pads in their gear and yunho peels off his shin guards to let them air out.

you pass around their iced bottles and as exhausted as they are, they make sure to voice their gratitude. san grabs wooyoung’s bottle for him, since the younger is bent over loosening the laces of his left skate. “here,” san murmurs, twisting open the cap and passing it to wooyoung once he straightens his back.

similarly, seonghwa hands over an opened bottle to yeosang before taking a swig of his own. “you’re okay?” he checks, the particularly rough body check that yeosang had copped earlier in the game still at the forefront of his mind.

yeosang gives the alternate captain a reassuring smile, “i’m okay.”

appeased by the answer, seonghwa turns to look at hongjoong, who is re-taping the blade of his stick. “what about you?” seonghwa softly asks, “you’re feeling okay?”

hongjoong glances up briefly at the back of your figure. you are busy shifting the red magnets around on the whiteboard and erasing the markings you had made prior to the start of the semifinals. when you turn around to gather their attention, you accidentally make eye contact with him and break out into a small smile.

“yeah,” hongjoong replies, “i’m feeling okay.”

“alright, listen up boys, that was just the first period. we’re not even halfway into this game and we’ve started to even up the playing field now that we’ve found our footing,” you encourage. “we just have to make sure we keep our heads cool and read their plays instead of simply reacting to their movements.”

you look at each of them as you direct, “their centre forward, byun, has been on for almost all of first period, so there’s probably going to be a shift change, if not a complete line change of forwards. they have the leniency to swap out their top players since they’re in the lead, which means if we want to break their momentum, we need to break it then.”

shifting yourself slightly out of the way, the boys are able to see the new arrangement of positions you have marked out on the whiteboard. “we’re starting the second period by sharpening our offence in the 2-2-1 formation,” you explain. you beckon your head at the captain, “hongjoong, you’re back on. you and wooyoung are to position yourselves up high between the neutral and offensive zones–try to screen their goaltender when our boys have possession. yunho, i want you to move up to our blue line with jongho and open up as many passing lanes as you two can. mingi will stay in defence and help cover the goal with san in case the white tigers makes a counterattack.

“use this opportunity to make as many scoring chances as you can. if there isn’t a clear shot but there’s a chance it can be continued on by another one of us, then go for it anyway–any sort of pressure we can put on their team is better than none.”

your forwards nod with understanding, so you continue to the most important point, “but the moment byun and the wings–kim and song, i think they are–come back on, we’re reversing the formation.” you reposition half of the magnets into a 1-2-2 formation. “only hongjoong will stay up high; wooyoung will fall back and join jongho in the neutral zone; put pressure on their forwards from there. yunho and mingi, you’ll play left and right defence as usual.”

san listens intently when you start moving the black magnets that represent the opposing players and call out to him directly. you warn, “san, be careful of their drop passes. kim and song have been skating forward but leaving the puck behind for byun to score multiple times throughout the first period. they have you primed to predict it now, so they’re probably going to change their tactic and pass directly in front of the goal instead.”

“yes, coach,” san acknowledges.

a glance at the screen on the wall of the locker room tells you that there are only a few minutes left of the intermission. “gear up and get ready to go back on,” you instruct the boys.

they make final adjustments to their pads and yunho tapes his shin guards back into place under his socks. you make sure they all have their helmets and sticks when they start to file out of the locker room once they are ready and you grab wooyoung’s gloves for him while he ties the laces of his skates again.

“thanks,” he reaches out for them as he stands up. except he stumbles slightly when he puts weight on his left ankle and your hand instinctively grabs his to steady him.

your eyes grow wide with concern. you know that wooyoung is the type to keep quiet about his pain, even if you ask, “does your ankle hurt?”

“no, my legs just fell asleep on me from sitting,” he reassures, conscious of your hand that still holds his. he smiles through his lie and hopes that you are unable to pick up on it. the buzzer sounds before you can, though, warning you both that there is only one minute remaining until the game resumes.

hurriedly you tell him, “let me know if you need to come off.”

somebody yells out your names, forcing you both to rush off to join the rest of the team in the hallway. wooyoung knows that he should admit to you right there and then that his ankle does hurt, but he will not–he cannot…because he owes it to his team.

they do not know and they will never know, but there is not a day that goes past where wooyoung does not feel guilty for having desired for their loss last year. he has to play and win this championship for his team because only then can he start to forgive himself. but until he wins, he deserves to suffer.

those in the lineup rapidly glide across the ice to take their positions, wooyoung included. a short buzzer sounds, the puck is dropped, and the second period starts. immediately you can see that your boys have the advantage. the white tigers had not expected you to take such an aggressive approach of offence considering that you are losing.

and sure enough, just as you had predicted, their coach has changed their entire line of forwards. the players are still undeniably skilled, but they visibly struggle to match the pace at which hongjoong and wooyoung are now leading your team to attack.

the rink is under the boys’ control; the neutral zone has become a stronghold with the resistance of both jongho and yunho’s combined strength and mingi’s reinforcement from behind. wooyoung weaves through the players with polished agility as he creates passing opportunities around the offensive zone, whilst hongjoong makes his own path with imposing might, his devilish wings spread. and even if the white tigers somehow manage to gain possession of the puck and break past your defence, san looks impossibly larger than the goal itself, leaving no openings for their forwards to score.

it is well into the second period when the perfect play sets itself up. with mingi blocking any possible rebounds off the boards, yunho’s attempt to body check the white tigers’ right wing forces the player to pass the puck across the ice. before their centre forward is able to receive it, jongho has already intercepted and is thundering ahead with his stick controlling the puck.

“high!” he shouts, ploughing through the neutral zone as wooyoung and hongjoong immediately respond to his call and skate up towards the goal.

jongho deliberately looks at his captain but flicks the puck with a forehand pass in the other direction, too fast for the defenders to react to. wooyoung easily receives the anticipated pass, thighs burning and his left ankle stinging as he rushes towards the goal from the left with powerful acceleration. the white tigers’ goaltender immediately lowers his stance and raises his arms in preparation to block his shot.

in the corner of his eye, wooyoung sees hongjoong matching his lightning pace on his right, the captain’s eyes narrowed with concentration and body weight tilted forward as he hurtles past the defenders. wooyoung pretends to wind up his stick for a slap shot into the net, only to twist the angle of his arms at the last second to send the puck skittering across the ice directly parallel to the goal. the goaltender drops down to his knees, having anticipated a scoring attempt, except the puck is now nearing hongjoong.

hongjoong sees it clearly–the trajectory that the puck is taking and the perfect point where it needs to meet his stick. without breaking its momentum, his arms contract to swing his stick and the blade collides with the puck with forceful precision, sending it hurtling through the air. the goaltender desperately scrabbles back onto his skates to defend the other side of the goal, but it is too late.

the puck flies past the posts and hits the netting.

the horn blares and echoing cheers erupt throughout the stadium as the lights flick on to shine across the net and your forward players. hongjoong yells with fierce triumph, stick raised into the air as wooyoung excitedly collides into him. the duo disappear amongst the bodies of your boys as they swarm around them feverish exuberance.

“that’s our fucking captain–” “–woo’s assist was insane!”

hongjoong cannot even tell who is who as he is jostled around in overjoyed laughter and beaming smiles, numerous hands reaching out to tap his and wooyoung’s helmets and shoulders. from outside the rink, you, seonghwa and yeosang have long stopped sitting on the benches, bodies too strung tight with hopeful tension to stay seated, so you are immediately swept up into a hug as the three of you celebrate the goal with identical exhilaration.

the game is still far from over but the morale has just skyrocketed through the roof as if the red devils have scored the winning goal. combined with the team’s fans electrifying the atmosphere of the stadium, it definitely feels like it, and you are starting to see hope that the ones advancing to the finals after today will be your boys.

“line change!” you faintly hear, so you still to watch all three of the white tigers’ forwards skate towards the boards. byun, kim and song jump onto the rink, back on offence in the wake of your goal.

hongjoong makes eye contact with you when you search for him amongst the team huddle and in unison, you both nod, pride and determination unspoken in your gazes–the real game is about to start now. the boys start to disperse and take up their positions around the marked circle for the centre faceoff, and hongjoong and byun meet head-to-head once again in the middle of the rink.

the white tigers’ centre forward smirks condescendingly, “cute goal.”

hongjoong’s face thunders over but he will not let himself resort to dirty sportsmanship. he bites his tongue and lowers his stance, focusing his attention on the game instead.

“ready,” the referee signals, then the puck is released.

byun manages to steal it and sends it backwards to his defensemen to open up more passing lanes, but as discussed, your boys mutually move into the 1-2-2 formation to fortify against their offensive plays. despite the pressure of the white tigers’ top forwards back in play, your team is riding on the momentum of your goal; although you had been treading to keep your heads above the water during the first period, there is now an air of confidence that permeates the ambience of the rink in favour of your boys. 

an angled pass from their defence rebounds off the boards and kim receives it high in the neutral zone. he attempts an immediate pass across the ice to song, except the safety net of your player’s defensive formation allows mingi to thrust out with his stick to intercept the pass. he signals, “breakout!” before deflecting it to wooyoung.

the turnover of possession immediately triggers a switch in defence to offence as wooyoung handles the puck back the other way. his wrists twist the stick with measured coordination, controlling the blade and puck as an extension of his own hands while approaching the offensive zone. wooyoung sees the white tigers’ defensemen racing towards him so he abruptly pivots towards the left to drag the black disc around their extended sticks.

suddenly, a sharp pain engulfs his ankle that has his legs crumbling as he staggers off balance. wooyoung manages to stay upright, using his stick to steady himself, but the momentary stumble is more than enough of an opening for byun to steal possession from behind him.

the rival centre forward swerves around jongho then stays close to the perimeter to avoid mingi’s resistant defence. behind mingi, san splays his legs out as he prepares to block the left side of the goal, but byun continues blazing on and wraps around the back of the net. san follows his movement and swiftly shifts over to the right instead while byun cradles the puck with his blade to lift it into the air the moment he approaches.

yunho cannot risk a penalty by raising his own stick to block its trajectory, so he shifts his body in hopes of deflecting the shot before it reaches san. but byun’s wrists snap and tuck the airborne puck at a sharp angle right past the red goalpost…and the horn blows to mark the scoring of a goal.

your jaw plummets at the same time that your heart does. not even your lungs work, your body frozen stock-still. once more, the white tigers are back in the lead only mere minutes after the score had been painstakingly tied by your team.

“fuck!” wooyoung curses and slams his gloved fist against the ice, having dropped to his knees in enraged denial.

seonghwa looks on with despondence from beside you as hongjoong drags wooyoung back up to his feet. the captain’s jaws are clenched in frustration but only because of the score itself–never because of his boys. when mingi and yunho try to comfort san with firm squeezes and uttered reassurances, he can only return a tight smile, all three of their breaths heavy and irregular from exertion and dismay.

for the boys to have climbed so arduously and persistently to even the scores, only to be knocked off and their momentum obliterated so mercilessly soon, it is even more demoralising than the white tigers’ first goal. after all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

through the deep ache in your heart, you mutedly say to yeosang, “go on for wooyoung, and tell jongho to change sticks and play as left wing.”

“yes, coach,” he replies, voice delicate. yeosang waits as you gesture for wooyoung to come off before he hops over the boards and skates in jongho’s direction.

“woo,” you murmur as your left wing makes his way back to the benches, but he avoids your gaze and keeps his head down. you bite your lips and decide not to push it for now. instead, you press an opened bottle into his gloved hand.

wooyoung is thankful that the bottle is half empty, because his hand unconsciously clenches around it with quivering shame and he would have spilled the water were it full. he makes no move to bring the bottle up to his lips; he doubts the water would go down his constricted throat anyway. the penetrative guilt of his tears hurts immeasurably more than the piercing throb of his ankle because he may have just cost his team the win…again.

even when the buzzer signals the end of the second period, wooyoung dares not to look up. the score is one to two and it is his fault. the intermission passes by in a haze of dissociation, his body robotically moving on autopilot into the locker room and back to the ice rink. wooyoung does not even know whether there are line changes to the positions or whether the game strategy has been altered.

but it does not matter because it does not concern him–as if any coach would put him on after his grave mistake. what wooyoung fails to notice though is the glances of worry in his direction, and they do not come solely from his boys.

the stakes run at their highest in the third and final period. tension suffocates the entire stadium, invisible hands that snake around your throats with a hangman’s loose and make you break out into cold sweats. all the players on the ice rink put everything that they have on the line because by the end of the next twenty minutes, only one team will be advancing to the finals.

from the moment the puck is dropped into play and the timer resumes, the rink is a torrential battlefield of contesting skates and grappling sticks. dramatic passes and unforeseen interceptions lead to rapid turnovers that force both teams to hastily switch back and forth between offence and defence.

but everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. for every scoring attempt that the red devils make, the white tigers make three, steadily and gradually pushing your boys back in the final stretch of the game. and while most of your forwards’ goals are blocked in the nick of time, most of theirs are not.

as a last resort in the face of the crisis, you calculate the risks then add seonghwa onto the field. “yunho, change!” you yell, pulling him off defence.

“behind you,” byun alerts song as seonghwa powers across the ice right into the cutthroat action, before cursing when the white tigers nearly lose possession of the puck.

your two captains unrelentingly pursue the black disc at the forefront of your team, their complementary synergy and unity a whirlwind of prowess to be reckoned with as they try not to let the burden of scoring weigh them down. despite the overwhelming pressure as the team’s last line of defence, even more so now that you have sacrificed stability to capitalise on having two centre forwards, san’s cat-like eyes do not cloud over, only intensely scanning the field and the opponent’s plays.

you glance at the clock. there are only two minutes left and even the combined efforts of your forwards is not working. you never thought that you would ever have to do this as a coach, but now you are afraid there is no choice. “yunho,” you urge.

his head turns to you and you see the ashen pallor of your own face reflected on his as the very probable outcome of the game dawns across your minds. you make your decision. “you’re going back on. for san.”

yunho’s eyes widen. “for san? i can’t play as goaltender–”

“no,” you shake your head, “we’re playing without a goaltender.”

sixty seconds.

save for wooyoung, all of your defenders, wings and centre forwards make a last-minute spurt to attack, not letting their bodies recover for even a split second as they strain their burning legs and gasping lungs.

thirty seconds.

they desperately break past the physical boundaries of their own stamina into their last reserves of pure grit and will, draining every last drop that their mental resilience has to offer.

ten seconds.

they do not give up. they try again and again to score. but against all of your prayers, all of your tears and sweat and against all of your hopes, the gap does not close. the final buzzer blares throughout the entire stadium, marking the red devil’s loss.

two to six.

your players stand motionless, ghosts of denial and despair amongst the crazed jumps and bounds of celebration as the white tigers flock across the rink towards one another. hongjoong tilts his head upwards to stop the rush of tears from falling down his face, both yunho and seonghwa mirrors of his pain as sweat and tears drip down in salty trails. san grasps the edge of the board in front of him, his head hung low and shoulders quaking from how hard he tries to stifle his sobs so that wooyoung does not hear him.

not one of your boys are able to accept the results of the match. not even you can bring yourself to utter a single word of consolation, be it for yourself or for them. and as you watch the wretched image of your heartbroken boys, choking back tears of your own that you are unaware still manage to escape the corners of your eyes, the only sounds in your ears their stricken cries, you are reminded that the path of an athlete and coach is nothing like its portrayal in movies and stories; where hard work triumphs and leads to sure success.

the harsh reality is that there is no dramatic comeback. there is no underdog victory. there is no miracle and there is no final to advance to. you and your boys lose by triple the amount of your own goals and just like that, the journey has come to an end at the semifinals.

it is an anticlimactic defeat, the gap so far that your team could not even see the light at the end of the tunnel. and somehow…that feels far worse than losing by just a marginal difference.

the locker room is mostly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the closing of zippers and rustling of canvas as the boys who have finished showering and changing pack the rest of their gear for the final time. there are no more intermittent sniffles, leaving behind a miserable hush of emptiness instead. even the dying flicker of the light in the far corner of the ceiling thrums with more energy than the boys combined.

you sit on one of the benches and absentmindedly thumb through your notebook. seonghwa sits to your right, his kit bag already long organised and tidied to preoccupy his mind. the warmth from the close proximity of your thighs and elbows is a gracious comfort to the both of you. it no longer makes your backs straighten with uptightness, conscious of the boundaries between coach and athlete–not after your hearts and bodies melded together in hugs of solace after the final buzzer of the semifinals and melted away those lines.

seonghwa places his hand soothingly on your knee and murmurs, “stop looking at that. we’ll think about it later all together.”

none of the words or diagrams had been registering in your head, but you nod and close your notebook anyway. he probably does not want to see it either. you rest your head back against the wall behind you with a small exhale, blankly watching your team instead until your eyes travel around the room. 

you count, then count again, before calling out, “captain, is wooyoung still showering?”

hongjoong cranes his neck around at the same time that everybody else does as well. “don’t think so,” he frowns, “i’m pretty sure he was one of the first ones out.”

wooyoung’s kit bag is still unpacked in his locker, so he is definitely not already waiting for the bus outside. before his absence can raise any alarms–the last thing the boys need on their plate right now–you stand and announce, “i’ll go find him. he probably just lost track of time.”

“do you need me to come with you?” yeosang rises to his feet.

you shake your head and reassure, “keep packing your bag.” then you turn to make your way out of the locker room when somebody calls out for you.

“coach, wait.”

it’s san, who skitters in front of you to press something into your hands. “give this to him when you see him?”

the item crinkles and a glance downwards reveals that it is an instant ice pack. you smile softly, stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket and hoping that nobody notices the ice pack that is already in there. “of course,” you gently touch his forearm. “i’ll be back.”

this time you make it out to the corridor but you do not get further than four steps before another voice stops you.

“coach!”

when you turn around, hongjoong emerges from the doorway. he slows down as he catches up to stand in front of you. “i…” his voice falters. “i’m sorry.”

i’m sorry i didn’t realise wooyoung was gone. i’m sorry i didn’t do my job as captain…and i’m sorry for losing. 

“no,” you shake your head. “don’t be.” because you tried your best…and you did not give up. beckoning in the direction of the locker room, you tell him, “take care of the boys, okay? i’ll be back with wooyoung.”

the rigidity in hongjoong’s shoulders dissipates. “thank you…y/n.”

you smile, “anytime, hongjoong.” you wait for him to walk back inside before you finally turn to find wooyoung.

the arena is massive but apart from the locker room–which you already know wooyoung is not in–there are limited places that offer privacy from the multitude of people who mill around, be it other athletes, staff or spectators. you know from personal experience, so you head to the one place that is usually guaranteed to be somewhat out of the public eye.

“oh, fuck me,” wooyoung startles when you sit yourself down heavily on the same step as him, his curse echoing around the both of you. “how the fuck did you know i would be here?”

you snort, bumping his shoulder with yours. “i hate to burst your bubble, but this isn’t exactly an original experience. i’m pretty sure every athlete has hidden here to cry at one point in their career.”

the slight spark of light that had ignited within wooyoung at your appearance suddenly flickers out, reminded of why exactly he is hiding in the emergency stairwell in the first place. shame tears his eyes away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“i want to be left alone,” he murmurs.

although you respect his request, that is the opposite of what he needs. left to his own thoughts and devices, you know that wooyoung will spiral dangerously in guilt and self-reproach, even if the red devil’s loss is not his fault–is not anybody’s fault.

the two of you sit in silence, wooyoung intermittently swiping at a lone tear that threatens to drip off his chin, and you mulling over the words that you hold close to your heart. eventually, you break the quietude with a soft chuckle.

“the first game i ever played i was actually on left defence. our team was losing by two goals and i suddenly had the puck. i still remember seeing an opening in the goal and feeling the surge of confidence that i did when i hit the puck…but you know what?”

wooyoung does not answer, does not look up from where he is picking at his cuticles, but you can feel his curiosity so you continue, “it was an own goal. i scored into my own team’s net and it wasn’t until i scored another goal before i finally realised which way i was meant to go. obviously, my team wasn’t very happy with me, but then i ended up winning the game for them anyway and that’s how i started playing as centre forward.

“there was also a time during internationals where i argued against the ref’s call and got myself put into the penalty box. it cost our team a goal–the tiebreaker, too. i learnt my lesson and never did that again. and then there was the first couple of years i started to coached. i thought i had enough experience as a player to be a perfect coach. it wasn’t until one of my teams told me to pull my head out of my ass that i realised i was anything but.”

that gets a small snicker from out of him. you deliberate, “i’d like to think that we make the best team now, though.”

he scowls disgruntledly, “we’re your only team.”

“and my favourite team, too,” you laugh softly, gauging his expression. “my point is, wooyoung, we all make mistakes. but the reason why we make them in the first place is because we love playing. we do what our heart wants to in the moment and we play for ourselves because otherwise, there would be nothing left of us without ice hockey. what matters is that we stand up again and learn from the experience.”

wooyoung feels the weight of your words settling heavily in his chest because they are only half true to him. his passion and love for the sport indeed burns eternally as a blazing inferno inside of him, but his persistence to play today was due to ulterior motives. to acknowledge that aloud is a different story, though.

your voice takes on a lighter tone, “although i guess in this case, you should be sitting down with that ankle of yours. you know you should not be gambling with your injuries.”

he finally looks at you; a former athlete who did not even have the luxury to gamble your injury. it suddenly scares him to imagine just an ounce of the conflicting anguish that must course through you at his continuous decisions to endanger his own career–the anguish that you have made sure to never show, lest it affect them.

“do you ever feel angry?” wooyoung abruptly asks, voice laced with hesitation.

it is your turn to look away. you know that the question is not directed at himself but your entire career. with a bittersweet chuckle, you allow yourself to admit, “every day. i still get angry and i still get upset. i wake up in the morning wondering why it had to be me and i go to bed at night wondering why i didn’t deserve a second chance.

“but i’m okay; it gets easier to be okay. coaching means that i still get to go on the ice, i still get to experience the adrenaline of games and i still get to play through you guys. and most of all…i still have a team. i don’t know if i will ever stop feeling angry, but it’s better than it used to be.”

at your admission, wooyoung is reminded of how you are possibly the only one who would be able to truly understand him. he musters his courage and confesses, “i wanted us to lose last year…and we did end up losing.”

it catches you off guard, the direction of the conversation not what you had expected, but you neutralise your expression and tone so as to not make him feel defensive. “how come?”

he swallows. “my ankle–i fractured it last year just before we made it into the playoffs, so i wasn’t able to compete. i had been so angry at first; angry at myself for getting injured, angry at my coach for not letting me play, angry at my team because they could play. then when it became clear that i wasn’t going to be able to compete regardless of how angry i was, i became jealous, insecure and…afraid. jongho and i share the same position, and i mean, look at him now–he’s able to play both left and right wing. if they had won the playoffs without me, then would the team really need me?

“they did end up losing, just like i had wanted them to, but that made me feel so much worse–made me realise just how terrible i am of a person. the guilt eats me alive every single day and i tell myself that i will make it up to them this time, that i will risk everything to win for them…” wooyoung scoffs pathetically at himself, “only for me to fuck things up because of my fucking ankle again.”

you get it. the slow gnawing of yourself from the endless feelings that you ‘should not have’ until you become no more than an empty husk. ever since your own injury, you have spent nights on end trying to reconcile with your emotions in your own confusing and formidable journey, but for the first time ever, you are grateful that you did–because you can keep wooyoung company on his. 

you carefully voice, “i think it was okay for you to have felt the way that you did. they’re your feelings and nobody can invalidate them nor your experience. what i came to realise was that all of those ‘ugly’ feelings do not make us ugly for having them–they simply make us human. it is only a problem when those feelings end up hurting other people, but i think the person you hurt the most…was yourself, wooyoung.”

at your words, he looks at you with wide eyes, a fresh swell of wetness gathering in them. wooyoung is kind and loving to everybody, yet has never once thought about deserving that kindness and love for himself. you smile gently, trying to hide the slight quiver in your own lips as your heart clenches with a desire to be loved in his stead.

“you know, woo, i’ve watched basically all of your past games including the quarterfinals from last year. but if i were to compare it to today’s game, it was as if two completely different teams were playing. your team was alive today–a truly united team where every member is the driving force behind each other’s passion for the game. i am pretty confident when i say that a huge part of it was because you were playing with them–because the team was finally whole again.

“yes, the trophy and the championship title is coveted but it is not what truly matters to them and neither to you. it wasn’t the actual win itself that you wanted today, but being able to win for them. and if your boys were to pick between winning without you and losing with you, i’m pretty sure you know better than i do what their immediate choice would be.”

should the other boys be here right now, they would instantly berate your ears off for even suggesting the first option. the thought flickers through wooyoung’s mind too and the corners of his lips tug upwards slightly.

still, he apprehensively confirms, “...no one is angry at me?”

“no,” you reply, voice soft, “not at all. but we are worried.”

you are reminded of the weight in the pocket of your jacket. pulling it out, you present the ice pack to wooyoung. “look, san told me to give this to you.”

his fingertips brush against your palm when he reaches out, hand hovering over the ice pack as if he does not dare to touch it. “san did?” he whispers.

when you nod, the final confirmation that he needs that nobody–you included–harbours ill feelings for him and his actions, he allows himself to take the ice pack. allows himself to love himself.

“you need to take care of your body,” you fondly chastise, lightening the atmosphere. “did coach cho not drill into you that as an athlete, your body is your most valuable asset? if you thought he was bad, he’s going to seem like an angel when i’m through with you. you won’t just be banned from playing, i’ll tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t walk on that ankle.”

wooyoung laughs through the few tears that are left, mood lifted enough to suggestively lift his eyebrows and quip, “kinky.” his laughter grows when you punch his arm in response.

no longer does he have to carry this burden alone because you are there for him now. but you know that you are not the only one who can be there for wooyoung. the dynamic between the boys runs past mere teammates and from what you have noticed, quite possibly even friends.

tentatively, you suggest, “maybe this is something you should tell the others about. that way you can truly let things go.”

his gaze wavers at the idea as he looks at you. yet, the miniscule smile and encouraging nod you give him fills him with tranquillity. perhaps it is time to let go, but the only way he can truly do that is if he is honest to the boys about his feelings–if he is honest to himself.

“okay,” he breathes out softly.

you grace him with another beat of silence before you stand up, extending your hand out to him. “let’s go.”

wooyoung takes your offered hand and lets you pull him up to his feet. he does not know if it is intentional, but the slight squeeze you give him right before your hand lets go of his fills him with warmth. the feeling stays with him even when he activates the ice pack as you two walk back to the locker room.

right at the doorway where the rest of the team is behind, you stop. you place your hand on wooyoung’s back, whose brows are starting to furrow in confusion. “i’ll be waiting out here. take your time,” you tell him.

“thank you, coach,” wooyoung returns your soft smile.

before you can think better of it, you reply, “i wasn’t talking to you as your coach…but as your friend.” then you nudge him towards the doorway with tender encouragement, waiting for him to walk through the threshold before you close the door behind him.

the first few months you had coached the red devils, mistrust had been in the shape of private conversations that deliberately excluded you. but now, trust is in the conversations that you know you do not need to be a part of. so you simply lean against the wall and wait.

and when they emerge from the locker room half an hour later, you know you have made the right decision upon seeing their eased expressions and relaxed shoulders. the air is still sombre, their defeat in the semifinals still fresh at the forefront of everybody’s minds, but what matters now is that they will face the loss together–the eight of them and you.

“here you go.”

hongjoong hands you your bag so that you do not have to go back in to grab it. you take it graciously from him, then with him by your side, you two lead the group through the arena–past the gazes and whispers that follow your group–and out to the team’s bus.

first to load his kit bag, yeosang takes his usual seat towards the front and waits. he has long developed the habit of placing his backpack under the seat in front of him instead of beside him. as the bus starts to pull away once all the bags are properly stored, you wordlessly take the seat next to him. your knees intermittently brush up against each other with the slight sway of the bus, but neither one of you make a move to shift your legs away.

you and yeosang watch the outside world whirl by the window, just like you always do. except the flowers that have bloomed among the trees–that had been bursts of positivity and vibrancy only just this morning–are now bittersweet reminders of the fall that you and the boys have just experienced.

a brief movement below your line of vision causes you to glance down. it is yeosang’s hand, palm upturned with a silent invitation of solace. you slide your fingers into his, an extension of the comfort you wish to give to them, and them to you.

what you and the boys do not realise, though, is that your flowers have simply bloomed elsewhere.

your jaw drops in sync with the last of the heavy suitcases that seonghwa rests on the floor outside their apartment complex. the amount of his luggage is easily equivalent to at least half the team’s.

“these are all yours?” you confirm.

seonghwa looks at you strangely, “of course. why?”

you look at him strangely. “are you planning on moving? why did you pack enough for a trip around the world?”

“well somebody didn’t want to tell us where we were going, so i had to make sure i was prepared for wherever our destination would be.”

“it’s called a surprise for a reason,” you shake your head, “and i did tell you to pack for cold weather, didn’t i?”

seonghwa fakes offence, scoffing, “can i remind you that it is still spring here, so my apologies for assuming that it might potentially mean we are travelling overseas.”

“you’re such a worrywart, you old fart,” wooyoung teases, circling around the older on his rideable suitcase.

seonghwa yelps when the wheels nearly run over his toes and he threatens, “next time you wet through your entire pack of underwear, don’t come crawling and begging for my spares.”

the suitcase halts indignantly to a stop with its rider. “that was one time,” wooyoung complains, “and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“it wasn’t even my fault,” seonghwa mocks. “i told you not to put your shampoo in a ziplock bag but no, you said that it would be fine.”

wooyoung sticks his index finger up. “correction, hongjoong said that it would be fine.”

“what the fuck, wooyoung,” hongjoong blanches at the sudden disclosure.

“and that’s exactly where you are at fault,” seonghwa cocks his eyebrow at wooyoung. “why would you listen to him?”

“what the fuck, seonghwa. i’m your captain,” hongjoong scowls.

“only during games.”

when you make eye contact with san, the two of you can only sigh with amused resignation. the rest of the boys shake their heads and proceed to load their luggage onto the bus, leaving the trio to feud it out in the background.

as mingi stacks his luggage beside yunho’s, he turns to ask, “are you sure we don’t need our kits?”

“you all brought your skates and sticks with you?” you question in return. when mingi and yunho nod, you reassure them, “then that’s all you need.”

jongho pipes up from beside you, “but what about training?”

“mental training,” you simply grin before hopping up the stairs to sit beside yeosang.

the boys gradually take their seats, even wooyoung and the two oldest despite their continued bickering. somebody yells out over the commotion, “coach! are you going to tell us where we’re going now?”

you peer backwards over the top of your seat to find everyone’s eager eyes on you. “nope,” you snicker, “you’ll find out when we get there. we are going on a holiday though, i’ll tell you that much.”

there is a surge of excitement at your confirmation and a similar fluttering eagerness flits through you, except yours is because you cannot wait to see their reactions. you really hope that the next two weeks will help to reset the team’s morale and give them a much-needed break.

“kq let us go on holiday?” yeosang asks with an impressed look as you settle back in your seat.

you give him a proud smirk. “i’m pretty convincing when i want to be. plus, we just had playoffs and we would all benefit from the rest. what better time to do that than at the start of the off-season?”

“there is no better time.”

“exactly.”

and so the bus starts the four-hour drive towards what the boys will soon come to realise is a team retreat. mingi connects his phone to the bluetooth, in charge of shuffling the music that blasts through the speakers, turning the atmosphere of the bus into a lively concert once it becomes obvious that it is going to be a long trip.

you have to yell over their deafening singing–which you have to admit actually sounds quite impressive–numerous times for them to sit their asses down, their enthusiasm uncontainable by the seat belts and law regulations. but they look their age, free and untroubled; just a group of boys up to their silly antics with one another, so you cannot bring yourself to truly regulate them.

the bus drives on, making a rest stop at one of the service areas along the highway so that you can stretch your legs in fresh air, use the restrooms and most importantly–

“food!”

their hollers resound before the doors of the bus even open. the second that the gap is large enough to fit one of them through, most of the boys go sprinting off like a stampede of toddlers in the direction of the food court.

wooyoung stays back and slips his arm through the crook of your elbow when you step off the bus too. he grins mischievously, “i’m sticking with you so you can pay for my food.”

“oh, stop it,” yunho tugs him away, pulling even harder when it only serves to make wooyoung’s grasp tighten around your arm. “i’ll pay for your food. leave her wallet alone.”

you laugh brightly as you are jostled around and you pull a card out of your back pocket, holding it up like a golden ticket. you waggle your brows playfully, “it’s on the company card.”

both wooyoung and yunho freeze. their eyes instantaneously start to glimmer, faces radiating when they slowly look at each other. then before you can react, they pounce on you, linking their arm through yours on either side of you and dragging you along to catch up with the rest of the team.

“buy whatever you want!” wooyoung brags and waves the card that he has seized off of you, “it’s on me!”

the service area itself is a field trip as the eight boys cause carnage throughout, except the destruction is in the number of times they swipe the company card. their hands quickly fill with rice cakes and fish skewers, corn dogs and grilled squid, more bags of walnut pastries and roasted potatoes tucked safely under their elbows. they demolish the snacks at the same rate it takes for the next ones to be prepared and the card is tossed around to keep up with their purchases.

they do not forget about the drinks either, getting iced americanos and barley tea to go along with their snacks, and banana milk and soda for the next leg of the trip. whatever catches their eyes–basically everything they lay their eyes upon–they buy. you do have to draw the line at daytime drinking though, narrowing your eyes at the cases of beer jongho and yunho try to pick up until they sheepishly put them back.

(you also end up having to purchase motion sickness tablets because seonghwa and mingi gorge themselves so full on snacks that they are queasy before they even make it back on the bus. kq’s president sends you a text too, asking just what exactly you and the boys have bought to rack up almost forty consecutive purchases at a service area. but the subsequent message asking if they are enjoying themselves tells you that his question is all in good fun.)

their energy mellows out during the last hour of the trip, both from tiring themselves out and from the gradual change in the scenery outside the windows. no longer can you see an endless mirage of highway road and open fields.

as the miles build up the further you travel, it leads deeper into a mountainous woodland with the trees growing denser and thicker around you. the narrower road winds around the base of hills and the bus driver carefully navigates the undisturbed peace of the forest. it starts to get colder and when the branches of the trees gradually dress themselves in dappled layers of snow, more of you shoulder on the thick coats and puffer jackets you had told them to bring.

the bus eventually arrives at a clearing amongst the pine trees, revealing a large but welcoming cottage pension. its wooden exterior and sloped roof gives it a distinctly cosy and rustic look, with large glass doors spanning the entire height of the walls that will let you admire the surrounding mountainous beauty from inside. off to the side of the cottage, there is a sizeable lake that has frozen over and immediately, you know that this was the perfect place to choose.

the boys press their faces against the window to get a better look as the bus pulls up beside the accommodation. “woah,” they breathe out, their exhales fogging up the glass.

they follow you off the bus in a trance, mouths open and unable to peel their eyes away lest they waste even a second to drink up the sight before them. here, in the heart of the taebaek mountains, it is still a winter wonderland despite the spring blossoms that cover the rest of seoul.

you turn to face them, walking backwards slowly and spreading your arms out with fond tenderness. “welcome to your home for the next two weeks, boys.”

even though it is simply an illusion created by taebaek’s geographical location and mountainous terrain, this time you find yourself appreciating the coldness and bareness of the winter-like ambience that cocoons you and your boys. it is as if time has stopped and there are no worries…only time to heal and start afresh.

living together, even if just for a holiday, is different.

you are used to only seeing the team in their training clothes, practice jerseys or bulked up in their padded gear and uniform. but here, the boys wear lounging sweatpants and worn hoodies, hair soft and poking into their eyes, bodies and expressions unguarded as they laze around. and where you are used to only seeing them at training, meetings and games, all rigorously scheduled and planned, there are no expectations to follow and no limits as to when you see them here.

the boys have their own organised chaoticness to their daily routines, having been living together for almost seven years now, and it seamlessly integrates into the space of the cottage too. but what truly surprises you and them is how you naturally blend into it.

when you rented the pension, you had ensured there were at least three bathrooms to accommodate all nine of you. however, you quickly discover that numbers mean nothing because the boys are incapable of staggering their morning and nightly bathroom routines one by one like you had assumed they would. you also realise that it is not that they are incapable, but that they like and want to do everything together.

space within a room holds no meaning to them and they are perfectly content to stand pressed up against each other’s sides, expertly dodging elbows and leaning over one another to reach for their toothbrushes or skincare. after that first night, you wake up in the morning and patter off in search for the least cramped bathroom to wriggle yourself into, up to three of you sharing the large sink and mirror that now looks comparatively tiny as you brush your teeth together.

more often than not, you find yourself sandwiched between yunho and mingi. it is moreso a matter of neither boy letting you escape from their clutches if you happen to peer into whichever bathroom they have crammed themselves into.

“we make the perfect ratio as the two tallest plus you as the shortest,” mingi likes to rationalise, “so it averages out perfectly with three boys in each of the other bathrooms.”

“but san’s shoulders are basically the equivalent of two grown men, so your point is invalid no matter how we divide ourselves up,” you like to argue back.

except they refuse to see reason. instead, yunho raises the volume of the speaker he has set on the sink’s counter that blasts out music to playfully drown you out. you relent every time and it turns into goofy dancing from the three of you as you pull silly expressions at one another in the mirror. when you rinse your mouth, mingi will start a gargling competition without fail, but none of you have lasted for more than three seconds before you begin to choke with laughter.

(when you are with people you like, everything is funny.)

seonghwa shakes his head whenever he passes the bathroom, insisting, “the only thing you guys are missing is a disco ball.” he is definitely not jealous of the fun you three are having. not at all.

the eldest has his own routine though, visible in the way he prepares everybody’s cups of coffee in the morning. they are all made differently according to individual preferences; no sugar, double shots, a dash of milk, brown sugar, matcha powder or decaf. and despite the fact that yeosang is usually up the earliest, seonghwa does not allow him to make his own coffee.

seonghwa claims it is because nobody knows how to properly use the drip brewer, but yeosang sits next to you and murmurs into your ear, “he just won’t admit that he likes to make them for us.” it must be the chill of the morning, but yeosang’s warm, whispery voice always sends goosebumps over your arms.

by the second morning, seonghwa finds himself naturally grabbing an extra cup and the hot surprise greets you with one and a half teaspoons of sugar in it, just how you like it. hongjoong emerges from the bathroom moments later to grab his cup and as he takes a careful sip, his eyes flit over the remaining cups on the table. seonghwa can practically hear the numbers ticking up in his head.

“y/n already took hers,” he verbalises, beckoning with his chin.

hongjoong turns around in the same direction to see you curled up on the sofa next to jongho and yeosang, your feet tucked comfortably underneath you as you lean forward out of curiosity to take a sip of jongho’s americano. when your expression scrunches up from the shock of bitterness, jongho giggles brightly and steadies your hand that is holding your own cup of sweetened coffee. his eyes melt at your reaction.

“oh, i know that expression,” hongjoong chortles. “he’s a goner.”

seonghwa sees the honey in hongjoong’s own eyes and he smiles knowingly, “i don’t think he’s the only one.”

hongjoong does not peel his gaze away from the three of you all cosied up on the couch. “you’re right, they’re both goners,” he hums absentmindedly, not at all registering who exactly it is who is being referred to.

(the true answer is that there are more than three of them.)

you discover that wooyoung is usually in charge of cooking, but in return, everybody else gets up to clear and wash the dishes the moment the last pair of chopsticks is placed down on the table. that is the only time they are allowed into the kitchen because they are apparently all walking hazards.

but when wooyoung realises you can actually handle a knife without giving him grey hairs from watching, the two of you easily divide the roles and tasks between yourselves. like a waltzing dance, you move together in the kitchen to prepare the meals. he passes you the spices in the overhead cabinets before you ask and you close the fridge when he takes out a pack of meat or vegetables.

cooking with wooyoung is never without bickering. he does not let you hear the end of the time you bump your head on the edge of the counter when you try to grab a saucepan from underneath, or the time you squeal after the oil starts to splatter from the onions. but if that is the reason why he starts to subtly move his hand to cushion the edges of the counters when you bend down to find something, or why he chooses to do the stirring and frying while you slice, then he pretends it is merely coincidence.

san never strays far away from the kitchen whenever you and wooyoung are cooking. you have noticed that they do not really ever stray apart–none of the boys do, though. wooyoung talks as you and san listen and the latter does not stop smiling as he watches wooyoung multitask. what you do not realise is the countless times you have forgotten to keep cooking because you are watching him too with the same expression that san wears.

(the rest of the boys realise and they also see the way san and wooyoung will pause to gaze at you.)

when you two have mostly finished cooking and it is simply a matter of waiting for the sauce to simmer or the soup to boil, you find that wooyoung will take his seat next to san on the barstools at the island, knees and thighs touching as he continues the conversation. you gravitate towards them the first time before catching yourself, cautious that you may be intruding, but then san gives you a dimpled smile and beckons for you to come and sit by his other side.

san likes to keep a gentle hand resting on wooyoung’s knee as he talks. when he does the same thing to you without even looking, your lungs stop working for a minute. the only thought that consumes your mind is the warm sensation of san’s thumb soothingly running back and forth across your skin. you do not want him to stop, so you stay still in hopes that he continues. you are pretty sure san does not even consciously realise he is doing it.

(san does, and he is glad you do not move away.)

in the hours after dinner and before you all head off to sleep, you pile the thick blankets into the open living room and squish yourselves on the least number of couches as possible. again, space holds no meaning when you are with the boys and you find the press of yeosang and hongjoong’s skin against your own more natural there than not.

sometimes you watch movies together, other times talking with low voices as the hours tick by, and other times where you are all doing your own things but in the presence of one another. regardless, the nine of you stay cuddled in front of the fireplace with the warm glow of the fire and the light dreamy flutter of snow outside the windows.

yeosang tenderly tucks the blankets up around mingi’s shoulders when he falls asleep before turning to you on his other side. “are you warm enough?” he softly asks. and even though you say you are, he still tucks the edges of your blanket under your chin, nestling you safely within the blanket, hongjoong’s side and his own body.

the boys are naturally affectionate with one another and seeing the close dynamic of their…friendship so intimately in the environment of the retreat reminds you once more of the possibility that their relationship may run deeper than they let on.

(but when that affection extends to you, you wonder what exactly that may mean for your own relationship with the boys.)

and so living together, even if just for a holiday, is different. it is different when they are the first sight to greet you when you wake up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and voice still husky from fatigue as they murmur good mornings to you, and your cheeks start to glow with rosiness.

it is different when the decisions you make together are not about a change in formation or a defensive power play, but what to make for dinner and what movie you want to watch afterwards, and it makes you begin to wonder what other mundane decisions you want to make with them. it is different when they wrap you in their embrace–eight consecutive hugs–to bid you goodnight, and it takes you longer to fall asleep because you toss restlessly in your bed as their smiles replay in your head.

being on the retreat together is strangely domestic and homelike. but it has been almost nine months since you have started coaching the boys and thus seeing them every day for countless hours on end. so really, this trip should not change anything.

and yet, it feels like everything is changing.

jongho pays no mind to the conversation that is happening around him. last he heard, half of you are wanting to go out to skate on the lake before the sun sets and the other half are wanting to finish the halli galli championship you had started the night prior.

he is happy to do either but his mind is distracted by something else. as the screen of his phone lights up, jongho’s eyes flicker down and he puts his hand over the glowing display before anybody can see the caller id. you glance at him when you catch the movement in the corner of your peripheral vision, only to look away when yunho calls out your name to see which of the two options you would prefer.

the screen goes black as the call goes unanswered. seconds later, it lights up briefly with a notification.

pick up.

then the caller id shows up again. jongho grabs his phone and mumbles to nobody in particular, “going to grab something from my room.”

closing the door to the room that he is sharing with hongjoong in the pension, jongho sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. whilst he has no qualms ignoring their messages now, he still finds it difficult to do the same to their phone calls. he finds his resolve weakening as he watches his phone ring for the third time within minutes.

so jongho picks up. “mother,” he greets stiffly.

she scoffs scathingly, “you finally decided to pick up.”

“i’ve been busy with the playoffs.” a half lie.

“busy? busy losing, you mean,” his mother ridicules. jongho is taken aback by the fact that she is aware, since he did not tell his family. it makes sense when she berates, “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from your aunt? she told me to congratulate you for making it into the semifinals–the semifinals, jongho.”

he feels a heat of shame at what she is insinuating. jongho defends, “that’s still the top four out of seventy six teams.”

“nobody cares,” she turns her nose up. “it does not matter if you came fourth, second or last–unless you win first place, the result is not worth anything. our entire family has a legacy of achievements and your younger brother even has an olympic gold medal now. but what have you done? this is a mere national competition and yet you are incapable of making it into the finals.”

“jong–” his name dies on the tip of your tongue and your hand stops before you can knock on the door when you hear jongho’s muffled voice.

the boys had finally decided to grab their skates so you had come to get jongho to join everybody outside. realising he is talking to somebody, you are about to turn away and give him some privacy, but the words you hear make you freeze. 

it is not the conversation itself that you overhear; it is the wounded tone of jongho’s voice that makes it impossible for you to walk away. your feet stay rooted to the spot, in fact, wanting to enter the room. you have not heard jongho in such great affliction before, not even when he was consoling the boys with tears in his own eyes after their crushing defeat in the playoffs. 

“when are you going to celebrate my achievements for what they are, instead of telling me to do better?” jongho appeals.

he has lived his entire life being told that he is not good enough–constantly compared to the accomplishments of his family, particularly those of his younger brother. what he does not understand is why he cannot just be recognised for the athlete that he is, void of any other person.

his mother is silent and for a brief moment, jongho thinks that she may finally see some sense in his words…only for her to unfeelingly state, “when they are worth celebrating.” with a simple, “do better,” she hangs up on him.

jongho’s hand falls limply into his lap, phone slipping out of his lax fingers with a dull thud to the ground. he wants to swear. he wants to cry. he wants to throw his phone against the wall until the screen shatters. but jongho simply leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, the crushing weight of dejection forcing his lungs to exhale shakily.

there is a faint, timid knock on the door. he knows who it is immediately–only one person would knock so softly. “come in,” he answers listlessly, because he could never bring himself to ignore you no matter his own feelings.

the door cracks open to reveal your tentative figure and you slip through the opening. from the way your lips are pulled down, eyes rounded with concern, jongho knows that you have connected enough dots to understand the context of the phone call.

you approach the bed and try to ignore how small the boy in front of you looks with his shoulders hunched inwards on themselves. jongho has always appeared as the most collected and composed, even more so than the captain, and it makes your chest tight to realise he has simply been hiding this whole time.

jongho is not a man of many words so you do the next best thing that feels right in the moment. you simply open your arms. when his hands slowly come up in silent acceptance, you step forward to engulf him in your embrace.

he presses his face into the soft warmth of your stomach. the darkness welcomes him with safety and comfort and he lets out a stuttering breath that racks his entire body. you wrap one arm around his shoulders and cradle the back of his head with your other, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair in soothing motions.

although silence is what he needs, you allow yourself to say one thing to him. you murmur, “i’m proud of you, jongho…so, so proud of you.”

and they are the words he has been wanting to hear his entire life. unable to keep it together any longer, jongho breaks down in your arms with tearful sobs and allows himself to grieve for the acknowledgement he has yearned his entire life and never received. however, it will only be for tonight because he has realised that it is futile to chase after recognition from a person who refuses to see his worth, even if that person is his own family.

there will always be other people who can see his actual worth; the same people who will still love him even if he does not have a gold trophy to call his. for him, those people are his seven boys and you.

so he stays in your arms with you wrapped around him, time lost to the two of you. he cries until he has no tears left and you tilt your head upwards to stop the flow of your own tears before they can drip down onto the crown of his head. and outside the bedroom, hongjoong quietly eases the door shut to give you both some privacy.

you do not know how much time has passed when you finally step out. jongho has fallen asleep after you tucked him under his covers, exhausted. heading towards your room to change out of your shirt, you are startled by the sight of hongjoong lingering near the door.

“you didn’t go out with the boys?

he shakes his head, then conscious of where you two are standing, he gestures inside your room and follows you in. “is jongho okay?” hongjoong asks.

“i think so…he’s sleeping now but probably just needs a bit more time,” you sigh, “i just wish i could do more for him.”

hongjoong reassures, “you are already doing so much more than you realise.”

for jongho. for wooyoung. for all of them. comfort has never been about the words or actions, but the person who is by their side, and for the boys, having you there is already enough.

“really?” you worry.

“yes, really.”

before he realises what he is doing, hongjoong reaches out to gingerly cup the side of your face to thumb away the worry in your brows. “y/n, you take care of us all the time…but who takes care of you?” he whispers.

“i’m your coach, of course i–”

“no,” he interrupts. “you aren’t just our coach and from what i have seen, you aren’t just our friend either. unless…” hongjoong hesitates, “unless i’ve been reading everything wrong, then in which case, tell me and i’ll move away.”

you do not reply. your eyes flicker back and forth between his, your heart racing and mind blank. it is true–they are not just your players and they are not just your friends either, but you are unsure about taking such a huge leap of faith and acting upon the feelings you have only just started to understand.

hongjoong takes your silence as encouragement to step even closer until he is right in front of you. he keeps his hand on your cheek, his other coming up to delicately cradle your waist. you are standing intimately enough for his warm breath to span across your cheeks as he tenderly pleads, “let us take care of you as more than what we are right now.

“if you do not want to put a label on it then that’s fine, we won’t. we’ll still be your team and you’ll still be our coach. but please, let us take care of you when you are hurt, when you’re upset or angry, and when you are happy, too. let us love you as one of ours.”

as one of theirs.

you swallow and confirm, “are you all together?”

“yes, we’re dating each other,” hongjoong nods.

“but then why…” your voice trials off. why me, too?

hongjoong taps the tip of your nose and jokes lightly, “is there a capped limit as to how many people we are allowed to love?”

it pulls a giggle out of you and he smiles fondly as he reiterates, “we don’t need to put a label on this and we can go entirely at your pace. just let us into your heart, please?”

for a moment you wonder what will happen to your professional relationship with the boys–what will happen if things do not work out or worse, if other people find out and report you all for it. but when you really think about it, you realise that the professionalism between you and the boys has long since blurred. 

you do not know if you can go back to seoul after this retreat and act like you do not want to continue living with them. most importantly, you do not want to know if you can. so you take the leap of faith and nod–you want to be theirs.

when you first met the red devils in autumn last year, you were resolved to win over them. never would you have expected that you would win them over in more ways than one…and be won over yourself.

“hi, girlfriend.”

seonghwa smacks the back of wooyoung’s head. “stop pressuring her,” he hisses as the younger cackles delightfully and strides away through the snow impressively fast considering he is wearing his skates.

“ignore him,” seonghwa turns to you, where you are sitting on the porch steps to the cottage. he squats down and takes the laces out of your hands to start doing up your own skates.

“i can do it myself,” you start.

“i know you can,” seonghwa hums, gazing up lovingly, “but i want to do it for you.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to hide the shy smile that blooms across your face and when that fails, you duck your head down instead. ever since your talk with hongjoong the other day, the boys have been significantly more obvious and proactive with their displays of affection for you. however, you are pretty sure they had their own conversation when you were asleep or in the shower, because not one of them pressures you into something you are not ready for, even if that includes making your relationship official.

“there you go. is it too tight? too loose?” seonghwa taps your skates and you tell him they are perfect. taking his offered hand with an appreciative smile, he pulls you up to your feet and you go to join the rest of the boys on the frozen lake.

you are sure it feels the same for every single one of your boys–nothing can compare to that moment when you first step onto the ice. it is where you become a completely different person; a fish back in water, in control and at home.

it had been a gamble renting the cottage pension as you were unable to know whether the lake would be frozen over enough to allow for skating. but it is as if the heavens know not to separate you and your boys from the love and passion that your entire lives revolve around, because you are blessed to see them scrambling out to play on the frozen lake almost every single day, just like they are right now.

san spots you and seonghwa and beckons for you two to join. “hongjoong’s the tagger,” he calls out.

the captain stands at the other end of the lake, back facing everybody as he drawls, “green light…”

before hongjoong even starts to enunciate the first word, yunho, wooyoung and jongho have already pushed off their skates to advance. it sets off an immediate chorus of indignant shouts and desperate acceleration amongst everybody else to catch up. you laugh and seonghwa drags you along with him urgently, unable to stand your apparent nonchalance and uncompetitiveness.

but oh, how wrong he is. very quickly, you join the majority of the boys in a game of who can be the most sneaky with dirty play. wooyoung and mingi tussle with one another right as hongjoong turns around with his yell of ‘red light!’, trying to topple the other over so they get caught. jongho yanks on the back of seonghwa’s jacket whilst yeosang giggles and joins in to yank on jongho’s, effectively preventing all three of them from advancing forward.

“let go of me, you brats!” seonghwa flails forward against the combined weight of the two boys but to no avail.

you use yunho’s height to your advantage and hide behind him, steadily creeping forward even when hongjoong has turned around to face you all. yunho quickly catches on and extends his hands backwards for you to latch onto. you are more than happy to let him do all the hard work skating you both towards the captain and you grin cheekily at the trio–still caught up in their self-induced tug-of-war–as you overtake them easily.

“y/n’s cheating!” san hollers, the only one who is actually playing by the rules.

“life’s not fair!” you holler back gleefully at the same time that hongjoong sniggers, “san, you moved your mouth! go back.”

san gives an indignant cry, “favouritism, i say!” but, bless his heart, moves back to the starting line regardless. 

when yunho is almost towering over hongjoong, he cues you to get ready to escape by letting go of your hands. you pivot around and without waiting for anything else, you start to run away.

“gree–”

yunho tags hongjoong’s right shoulder before pushing off to the left so that he escapes the other’s immediate line of vision. except it means that the first person that hongjoong sees when he turns around is you.

an involuntary squeal escapes you when you hear the terrifying crispness of skates on ice right behind you followed by the captain’s arms snaking around your waist. “caught you, babe” he beams. hongjoong lifts you up with shit-eating smugness at your reaction–both at his close proximity and the pet name–spins you around for good measure, then sets you back down to chase after the others.

wooyoung skates in a wide arc to dodge the captain’s frenzied rampage, only to suddenly appear right beside you with the most telling glint in his sparkling eyes that he is up to mischief. he grins.

“wooyoung, no,” you warn.

he grabs you by the waist. “wooyoung, yes.”

wooyoung pushes off his skates with you in front of him at breakneck speed across the ice, bellowing at the top of his voice, “make way for the cripples!”

you scream the entire way to the end of the lake, hands clutching onto his like a lifeline as a colourful string of words flies out of your mouth. you think you black out for a second because when you open your eyes again, you are in a heaving tangle of arms and legs on the cushiony surface of powdery snow.

“oh, shit,” hongjoong winces.

the boys speed towards you and wooyoung, and yunho peers down at you on the ground with panicked concern in his eyes. “are you two okay?” he asks but when he sees that you are laughing, unrestrained and radiating joy, yunho relaxes and joins in with relief.

they–mainly seonghwa–fuss over you both enough to reassure themselves that there is not so much as a scratch or bruise, before mingi suggests playing a casual hockey game of five versus four. there are to be no goaltenders and san fashions makeshift goalposts by poking sticks into the snow on either ends of the lake.

the team splits into their usual arrangement when they are required to be in two groups; hongjoong, yunho, san and wooyoung; seonghwa, yeosang, mingi and jongho. normally, you would offer to be the honorary referee…but the boys have never been rough with you and you have confidence that you will not get hurt. so for the first time in years, you play.

it is far from a proper league game and it will never be enough to quench your thirst as a former athlete, but for now, gripping your stick on the ice in tandem with the others, you are content–you are alive.

like red light, green light, the game starts off fair and proper for a grand total of two minutes. then it becomes a circus of foul plays and increasingly creative methods of cheating as all sense of order is tossed out the window. yunho and san stand in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to handle the puck, whilst hongjoong and wooyoung flank your sides and use their sticks to block any attempts to steal the puck. as a shielded group of five, you all move up towards the goalposts like a formidable army tank.

in retaliation, jongho physically manhandles hongjoong out of the way, hugging him from behind with a vice grip that he swears not to let go. seonghwa, mingi and yeosang imitate him with similar displays of strength, turning the entire match into a childish scuffle of chaos and hysterics.

there are no proper rules, no proper gear and no proper stadium–only the bare minimum, yourselves and uncontainable laughter. it feels like you are kids again, little souls harbouring colossal dreams, running around on the fields with long branches and a pine cone you had found when you could not afford to go to a real rink.

it is like you have gone back in time to when all you knew about ice hockey from watching it on your television screen was that you had to get the puck into the goal. you and the boys are fresh, blank slates without a care in the world for the countless strategies and tactical plays that you have learned over the length of your careers.

without the pressures and routines of strict training regimes, you all reignite the very roots of your ardour and fervour for ice hockey. no longer is it about the scores and making it into the playoffs. no longer is it about winning the championships to gain the acknowledgement of other people. no longer is it about the trauma of betrayal, injury and defeat you have experienced.

playing is simply the thrill of skating liberally with no burdens across the ice. it is the feeling of thriving when your blade connects with the puck and sends vibrations up your arms. it is the rush of adrenaline as everyone moves in tandem with the same singular thought in your hearts–that you love ice hockey with your entire lives. and that in itself is already more than enough, even without a gold trophy and championship title to prove it to yourselves.

for the last five years, the boys have had the leaves of their trees forcibly plucked and removed–by family, by coaches, and by injuries…but now?

it is time for their flowers to bloom.

spring, 2025: playoffs

standing off to the side, you watch your boys listening attentively to the reporter who is conducting an interview with them. you have continued to stay out of the media spotlight where possible, not yet entirely comfortable standing in front of the cameras again, but your boys have quickly grown accustomed to media coverage ever since their popularity gained traction thanks to their undefeated streak in the regular season.

the interviewer glances down at her prompt card before asking, “so tell me, what has been a major contribution to your success this season? your team has made a name for yourselves as the undefeated champions so far–quite a contrast to how you started off last season.”

seonghwa laughs cordially with her. “we were getting used to a lot of changes last year so our teamwork and mentality wasn’t the best,” he admits. “our agency gave us some time off to recalibrate, which really helped us to focus on building ourselves–as individuals and as a team. i think we learnt to place our unconditional trust in one another and our coach. we still play with a dominantly offensive approach, but we’ve been adopting different playing styles and experimenting with them, so this relies heavily on believing in each other.”

yunho nods, gesturing for the microphone to add, “as cliche as it may sound, a huge part of our growth was also learning how to accept loss. this wasn’t just in the context of being defeated in the semifinals but in the wider lens of our past mistakes, relationships, and even situations that we could not change.

“it has been a tough journey for a lot of us over the last year, but we were lucky enough to have each other’s support,” yunho’s nostalgic smile reflects your own as you realise just how far both you and all of your boys have come. “once we were able to let go, it meant that we could enjoy our career for what it truly is–playing the sport of our dreams together, every day.”

the reporter’s ears perk up in interest at the segway to probe and she jumps on the opportunity to ask, “i am sure many of your fans have been curious for a long time. is there a special somebody who has supported you–or any of you–throughout your journey?”

yunho passes the microphone to the hand that has extended out to reach for it. it’s san this time, who has a charmingly confident persona that he takes on whenever he answers questions during interviews. good thing too, because their fans are going to need something to distract them from understanding the confession he is about to make.

“there is. we all do, actually,” his deep voice rolls off his tongue like butter. the way he smoothly talks with a flirtatious smirk never fails to make you swoon. “funnily enough, we all met our girlfriend at about the same time.”

off to the side, wooyoung sends a wink in your direction and you have to muffle a snort with your hand and divert your glance away. the structural framework of the stadium ceiling suddenly looks very interesting. san stands there incredibly smug at his joke that he knows nobody but you and the boys will pick up on.

by the time you tune back into the conversation, the reporter has moved onto the next question. “last year, you lost to the white tigers in the semifinals. how do you feel about facing them again later today?”

due to a spike in popularity, the korean ice hockey league had to divide its teams into two separate groups for the regular season matches this year. both the red devils and the white tigers had been placed in different groups and by some twist of fate, had ranked at the top and then seeded accordingly on either ends of the tournament brackets. now, your team faces theirs in the very last game of the season.

the finals.

“we’re quite excited, actually,” jongho responds. “we have been wanting to play against the white tigers again some day and i don’t think it gets any more fitting than meeting them in the finals. they have some incredible players but like seonghwa mentioned before, we’ve been working hard to adjust our playing style to suit the situation. our coach has put in a lot of effort to hone in on our strengths and weaknesses, so no matter what today’s outcome is, we’re confident that it won’t be an easy win for either team.”

“i am sure the finals is going to be a thrilling match. now, speaking of coaches,” the interviewer starts and you can see hongjoong’s hand twitching subtly at his side, ready to step in and deflect the question need be should it pertain to you.

she continues, “how does it feel to play against your former coach?”

yeosang and mingi frown, unable to neutralise the confusion on their faces. hongjoong smiles calmly, ultimately taking over the microphone as he apologises, “sorry, could you please elaborate your question?”

it is the interviewer’s turn to fluster slightly but she nods quickly, “you must not be aware, then.”

your eyes dart back and forth as you try to recall whether there is a crucial piece of information you have somehow missed or forgotten to tell the boys. the tone of her voice foreshadows something that makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“last year, the white tigers had a stand-in coach, so you probably did not know.” she says her next words carefully and despite the bustling movement that fills the entire stadium, you can hear the exact moment all of your hearts drop.

“the coach of the white tigers is coach yeon, your team’s former coach in 2018…and he’s here today.”

you are the first to rush back into their locker room. frantically, you grab the official guide that had been given to you by the ice hockey league prior to the start of the regular season from out of your bag. you flip through it, team profiles upon team profiles blending into a hazy blur of faces as you find the one you are trying to look for.

“y/n,” somebody gently murmurs from behind you but you do not register their call. you continue to flick through the pages and when you find the profile for the white tigers, you scan the top of the page for a certain name with a shaky finger.

head coach: yeon ha joon

“oh my god,” you breathe out, hands lowering to your sides and gaze wavering. how the fuck had you managed to miss it this entire time?

you are not the only one affected by the revelation. the change room is pervaded by unease and restlessness, and wooyoung paces back and forth despite hongjoong’s attempts to get him to sit down. hongjoong himself cannot even remember how he answered the question about coach yeon, only that he had somehow excused themselves not long after to cut the interview short.

“how is he still a coach?” seonghwa furrows his brows.

wooyoung stops pacing and your eyes are drawn to him when he suddenly blanches, “what if coach yeon is doing the opposite now and paying other teams to let his own team win?”

“no way–” “–i wouldn’t put it past him–” “–surely not?” the boys’ voices overlap at the speculation.

it is a valid speculation based on what they have told you in the past about coach yeon. however, you stay quiet, suddenly aware of the fact that it is not something that would favour you should it be true. you gnaw the inside of your cheek because as much as you know that your boys would not suspect you, you still worry that doubt may cross their minds at one point, even if only briefly.

“unless the money he offered every single time was equivalent to the prize money, it’s highly unlikely the teams would have all accepted, right?” jongho points out.

yunho shrugs nonchalantly, “but even if they did, we all know that coach yeon would never be able to bribe our girl.”

the way everybody immediately agrees expels some of the anxiety within you, filling you with reassurance and security that starts to relax your chest instead. wooyoung chooses that moment to finally sit down on the bench beside you. he adds, “we’re too whipped for you, so even if you were bribed, we would probably ask whether the money was enough and if you wanted more.”

san chucks a water bottle at him. despite yourself, you laugh and admit, “that is…strangely comforting.”

“see,” wooyoung triumphantly boots the bottle back at the older. “she gets it.”

seonghwa intercepts the pitiful bottle before it becomes weaponised and sets it down next to him. “she wouldn’t accept the money in the first place.”

“exactly, so why does any of this matter?” mingi suddenly questions.

yeosang knits his brows together as he states the obvious, “it’s coach yeon.”

“and?” mingi mirrors his expression with genuine confusion.

it is quiet in the locker room. the coach of the white tigers is indeed coach yeon…and so what? what exactly about the revelation has pushed you all to the edge of the cliff?

mingi cocks his head. “what i’m trying to say is, does it make any difference whether he is their coach or not? think about it–regardless of how he got his team to the finals, he has no unfair advantage over us. there’s no way that he has bribed a fixed win in the finals, and he has no access to any insider knowledge that could jeopardise our tactics and plays.

“the only leverage that he ‘has’ is a psychological advantage–if we can even call it that. but we’re not the same boys who were too naive and powerless to do anything about it six years ago. if anything, we can easily turn this to work in our favour because i don’t know about you guys, but i’m ready to drag his ass through the mud. what we said earlier about not caring for today’s outcome? nah, fuck that. we’re going to fuck him up and show him that he messed with the wrong people.”

he takes everybody’s silence as misunderstanding of his last statement and he hurriedly clarifies there is no violent intent, “by winning. fairly.”

“damn,” jongho whistles. “you’re onto something for once.”

mingi clambers over seonghwa’s legs to grab the forgotten bottle and it goes flying across the room with violent intent. “dude, what the fuck,” mingi grouses.

the dull thud that resounds when jongho holds san’s leg pad up to block the projectile is enough to shift the mood in the room entirely. you finally relax into hongjoong’s side and he moulds you closer to him with the arm that he snakes around your waist as you both watch the locker room erupt into familiar pre-game mayhem.

yunho immediately scoops up the bottle and pitches it again. san stands to the side worrying over his poor leg pads as jongho uses them to bat the makeshift ball. his impressive accuracy makes you wonder whether they would have made it just as big as they are now had they formed a baseball team instead, but then yeosang narrowly dodges the bottle before it gives him a black eye, wooyoung cackles in the background, and you think better of it.

seonghwa joins you both on the bench and amongst all of the mischievous chaos and raucous laughter, you feel at peace, your hands clasped tenderly in the hands of your two captains–in unity, trust and love. you affectionately squeeze their hands with unspoken conviction.

you know your boys are going to play well; you just have a good feeling.

the energy in the room spikes exponentially as you huddle together one final time before you walk out of the locker room, through the hallways and to the arena–one final time before you step out to the ice rink as the red devils, playing in the final match.

you and your boys stand in a circle as close as it is physically possible with their bulky pads and game jerseys that they wear so proudly. it is indiscernible where one of you starts and where another ends from how intimately you all press together. your huddle is a woven nexus of arms and your hearts pound as one entity.

everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. not a single one of your boys has made it this far without falling at least once, and the conscious thought makes your heart swell and your throat constrict with overwhelming emotion.

somehow, you manage to choke out, “i am so, so proud of all of you.”

yunho and seonghwa’s own eyes start to heat up with wetness. from your side, san kisses your temple with feather-like tenderness, “and we’re so proud of you. y/n, you have grown just as much as we have.”

“thank you for being our coach,” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from your other side, the tip of his nose softly nuzzling you.

wooyoung reaches out to thumb the round of your cheek, “and thank you for loving us when we found it difficult to love ourselves.”

you had always viewed your injury and career with anger, bitterness and anguish…but you have finally come to terms with it. in the process of healing, you have learnt to love yourself, love eight other people, and to be loved. you have had your golden days as an athlete and you are now living your golden days as a coach–

–the very coach of the red devils, your team of boys who are living through their golden days as athletes, and you are going to lead them to victory in the finals.

swiping at a tear that slips down your cheeks, you grin. “boys, let’s win this match and then,” you pause as you meet their determined gazes, their smiles wide with uncontainable excitement, the tension in the room electrifying and palpable.

“let’s go international.”

you may have all fallen before–as athletes, as coaches, as a team–but you will always stand back up together, because at the end of the day your dream is theirs and their dream is yours. and like autumn, the leaves fall for a reason; they must fall before the spring flowers can bloom to their full beauty.

and bloom your flowers have.

10 Things I Hate About You ── jungkook.

summary ── y/n and hanni’s mom stood by one rule and one rule only: no dating during high school and college. It wasn't until she set another rule—no dating until y/n dates— that hanni unintentionally pulls some strings to have her sister date none other than, jeon jungkook, the man who every girl f*cks and all the boys fight with.

genre ── bet au, college!au

pairing ── f*ckboy!jungkook x (fem) reader

note ── taehyung will be basically the bad guy here… this is fictional work so please don’t think this is how i see taehyung either. this does not showcase how taehyung is in real life THIS WORK IS FICTION

(also, word count is 20k+ 🥲)

You were a killer.

You killed someone. Well, you killed something to be more specific.

You looked down at your foot at hearing the nasty crunch of what seemed to be a snail, tears starting to well up in your eyes once you noticed you had killed an animal. Such a slimy and very slow animal.

You tentatively grabbed a leaf from a tree not so far from you, grabbing the snail with it before moving it away. God, you killed nature! Well, a part of nature. But it was still nature!

“Stupid,” you mumbled, wiping your tears away with the palm of your hand as you glared at the squished corpse. “I have to hurry to school now.”

Placing the snail on the dirt, you headed towards your car, sighing as you remembered you were heading to school… your obnoxious, annoying school. You would’ve chosen to drop out but you also wanted to have a degree and then move out of your house to get away from your mom and sister. They didn’t need you and you didn’t need them if they didn’t try to talk to you.

You drove to school, bumping loud music to get rid of the tiredness consuming your body. You ignored the looks you had received from the group of girl’s—they stopped next to your car—your sister, Hanni, hung out with, their music—which was much more different than yours—playing in the radio.

“Brought you coffee,” your close friend, Nali, greeted you as soon as she spotted your car driving ahead, having heard someone cursing you out for almost running them over. In your defense, they didn’t want to move out of the way. “Figured you’d need it.”

“Thank you,” you sighed in relief, your cold hands meeting the warmth of the cup. You locked your car behind you once your feet landed on the cement floor, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as the warmth coursed through your body. “You’re a lifesaver. My day was not starting well.”

“Don’t tell me,” Nali started, a ghost of a smile spread on her lips, “you helped an old lady cross the street and she cursed you out.”

“I stepped on a snail,” you mumbled, looking away from your dear friend who was taken aback at your words. “It was horrible. I should’ve been able to see it!”

“I love you so much,” Nali chuckled at your reaction before placing a hand on your arm, leading you away from the people starting to head your way. “Your fans would freak out if they saw you this way. Such a softy and very, very sensitive.”

“Pfft, they’ll love me regardless,” you rolled your eyes, though a smile was on your face. You continued to smile and wave at the girl’s who waved at you. “I’m more surprised at the fact that they admire me. I didn’t even do anything.”

“I guess punching a creep and calling the school out for not doing anything about him gains you a reputation,” Nali shrugged as it was the most obvious thing. You hummed. “Come on, these girls,” she walked backwards, her hands raising up dramatically to showcase how serious she was, “they need a role model like you. It’s no surprise they look up to you.”

“Hmm, I’ll gladly take the small fame,” you said before staring over your shoulder at the girls not so far from you, “if they stop following me everywhere I go. I have my writing class coming up.”

“Ah, your favorite class,” your raven-haired friend teased you, shoulder nudging yours as she now stood in front of you, feeling embarrassed once she came to find her crush nearby. You couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape your lips. “I’m telling you, though, Mr. Kim is out to get you because he literally kicked you out for participating too much.”

“He expects everyone to just keep their mouths shut and not speak at all at this point,” you shook your head, sighing in an annoyed matter at coming to think of the 28-year-old professor, Kim Namjoon. “I breathe and he’ll kick me out.”

As you walked towards your class, you eyed your sister close to a face you knew so well and despised with your entire being. You pretended not to have seen them, but Taehyung knew you had so he wrapped an arm around your poor sister’s shoulder, bringing her closer to him as he gave you a smug smirk. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him.

You sat down on a desk close to Mr. Kim, who always wore a stern look. He wasn’t always like this, but the students from the year before failed him and he had to be stricter so everyone could learn. You didn’t care much about how he taught, but you hated when he made you guys do presentations without warning and would pair you with other students you didn’t get along with. He did a bad thing pairing you up with Taehyung because you two couldn’t stop bickering in class, which resulted in him never pairing you two again.

You just couldn’t understand why now, when you didn’t associate with him, he had to be everywhere you turned. Everywhere. You hated it and you hated him.

It wasn’t long before you headed home, reading the book assigned to you by Mr. Kim. You found it a bit boring, but you knew you would eventually come to a good part that would leave you a bit starstruck at the plot. You continued reading.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there making boys cry.”

You snickered out of amusement at your mother’s words. You glanced at your phone. “I’ll got outside in a bit. It’s barely 5 in the afternoon.”

Your mom shook her head at your words before going through her phone, answering emails. You two heard the door opening and then did Hanni come towards you two, kissing your mom on the cheek as a greeting.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Han,” your mom greeted, feeling happy at knowing that her two daughters were now home. You sighed and eyed your sister’s rather happy expression.

“Where have you been?” You softly asked, arching an eyebrow. Hanni glared at you because of that, cursing you in her head.

“Nowhere,” she easily lied.

“I don’t know why you hang out with Taehyung when he’s clearly targeting you because you’re naive,” you stated, crossing your arms over your chest since you knew full well as to what he was doing.

“Taehyung? Who is that?” Your mom now asked, interested in the conversation between you two.

“It’s just some boy, Mom,” Hanni groaned, knowing at the lecture that was coming ahead. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not big deal until he’s asking you to sleep with him,” your mom placed her hands on either side of Hanni’s arms, making her sit on the couch. “We have talked about this. Number one, no dating till you graduate both high school and college. Number two, no dating until you get your degrees.”

“Yeah, but that’s an unfair rule, Mom,” Hanni whined, groaning as she slumped on the couch beside you. “It’s not fair for me.”

“Yeah, well, you know what’s unfair?” Your mom questioned, sitting in the chair beside the couch you two were sitting on. “I delivered twin babies to a 16-year-old girl. I don’t shame teen pregnancy nor do I encourage it, but the poor girl had no support from neither of her parents. A child was with children and the poor girl didn’t know what to do. That’s unfair. I’m giving you two the chance to get your degree all while I’m supporting you financially.”

“Yeah, and we appreciate what you’re doing,” Hanni said, “but we both need to experience things out there that doesn’t involve you freaking out because you’re scared we’re going to get pregnant. We’re both smart enough not to do that. But, I’m the only girl in school that is not dating or seeing anyone.”

“No, you’re not,” your mom waved her worries off. “Your sister doesn’t date.”

“And I don’t intend to,” you shrugged her words off. “And it’s not true about you being the only girl. There are so many people that haven’t been asked out or dated anyone.”

“And why is that?”

“All the guys at school are missing braincells that prevent them from understanding girl’s feelings or human beings in general,” you started to rant, “or, or, they are such assholes that think they can get anyone but actually can’t.”

“Who even are you?” Hanni turned to look at you, frowning as she processed your words. “At this point, you were found under a bridge.”

“It’s better than thinking that everything is about me,” you retorted back, a scoff escaping your lips. Your mom cleared her throat to stop you two from arguing any further, and you two eyed the way she lit up with an idea.

“Here’s how we can resolve this issue,” she started, glancing between the two of you. “We’re dropping the old rule and we’re creating a new one. New rule, Hanni, you can date,” your sister lit up next, “when,” her mood dropped at the word as your mom gestured to you, “she does.”

You snorted at the words and the way your mom seemed impressed at herself for coming up with that rule. Hanni didn’t seem to like that idea, but you didn’t really care as you started to walk towards your room.

“She’s never going to date!” Hanni exclaimed.

“Good, then you can stay single,” your mom smiled sarcastically at her youngest daughter as you now minded your business, closing your bedroom door behind you. After all, you didn’t want to deal with Hanni’s arguing.

The day after the next, you were at school, eating lunch with Nali at the cafeteria your uni had. You two sat by a table with other students, but you couldn’t help but feel curious once you saw that someone you knew went to go talk to Taehyung who was sitting on a separate table away from everyone.

“We need to talk.”

“Jimin, we haven’t talked in so long, and I still don’t want to,” Taehyung told his old friend, not daring to look at him. He was too entranced on the dating app he was going through, swiping left and right. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk money wise,” Jimin shrugged and Taehyung gave him a confused look.

“I’m sorry but don’t you have money?” He questioned, remembering full well how Jimin had his own mansion not so far from the school, having inherited it from his grandfather.

“This is not about me,” Jimin placed a hand on his chest. “This is about you and I know you will most likely agree to what I have to say so just give me a chance to do so.”

Taehyung hummed. “Talk then.”

“You want Hanni, right?” Jimin questioned, playing with the cards Taehyung had discarded next to his hands. “Well, I just found out that Hanni can’t date until Y/n does, but no one wants to go out with her, right?”

“Yeah, I agree. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I think you need to find someone suitable for Y/n so you can be able to get the girl of your dreams,” Jimin continued, twisting his rings around his fingers. “Hire a guy. Hire a guy who knows girls very well.”

Jimin gestured towards the table Jungkook sat by, a girl on his lap while other girls talked go him. Thankfully, you were farther from him so you didn’t get to see the type of guy he actually was (you knew, though).

“Jeon Jungkook?” Taehyung questioned. “I heard he got multiple girls pregnant.”

“Hey, that’s what they all say, though, right?” Jimin nudged him, raising his brows to display he was obviously serious about everything else. “Clearly, though, he’s the guy you need.”

“What’s in it for you?” Taehyung asked.

“You let me host the party this year all while I set up a room for you and whoever you want to bring,” Jimin shrugged as if it was nothing and Taehyung curtly hummed, clearing his throat.

“I’ll think about it and I’ll let you know what I decide.”

Jimin nodded and walked away, heading towards his own table where Yujun, his younger brother and the guy in love with Hanni, patiently waited.

“Don’t get him involved,” Yujun hissed out, glaring at Taehyung’s side profile.

“Calm down, Yujun,” Jimin raised a hand, grabbing a fry he needed to desperately eat. “We let Taehyung pretend he’s the one in charge of all of this so while he’s doing all the work, you’re getting closer to Hanni.”

The youngest hummed.

“Hyung, I never underestimated you,” he commented, giving his brother a thumbs up before walking away with his drink, leaving his brother alone.

And Jimin watched with satisfaction as Taehyung texted him not even a day later with news he agreed on the plan. He and Yujun patiently watched as he ran towards Jungkook who was just finished making out with a girl on his lap.

“Hey,” Taehyung greeted, eyeing the tattooed guy. “How you doing?” Jungkook didn’t answer. “Um, I saw an amazing documentary about babies?”

“What?” Jungkook asked with a baffled expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Um, nothing,” Taehyung shook his head before sitting down next to him on the chair. He gestured towards you talking with Nali. “See the one reading?”

Jungkook nodded confusedly. “Yeah?”

“That’s Kim Y/n,” Taehyung continued on. “I want you to go out with her.”

Jungkook immediately laughed, not taking him serious until he realized that the handsome man was in fact not laughing. “Really?”

“Look, there’s this whole thing about me dating her sister and—”

“Whatever touching story you’re about to say,” Jungkook breathed out, “I don’t care. It’s none of my business.”

“I’m going to pay you.”

Jungkook was chuckling at this point. Was this really real? Or was he dreaming? Because not so long ago his lips were on another person’s own. He couldn’t even think about taking some girl out and actually being with her

“You’re going to pay me to take out someone I do not have a single clue about?” He mused out and Taehyung hummed childishly. “Hmm, how much?”

“$100,” Taehyung said. “I can give you more if you want.”

The two of them, though, heard a groan and they turned to look your way where a guy was holding onto his stomach, your eyes glaring through his head. Your best friend next to you was simply laughing, dramatically clapping at what you did.

“Hmm…” Jungkook hummed, frowning at the sight and Taehyung winced, sighing.

“Fine, $150,” he recanted his statement, having felt bad for the guy since—if he agreed—he will be dealing with you.

“Don’t I have to take her on dates?” Jungkook suggested, coughing a little as he sat up straight and Taehyung eyed his tattooed arm, noticing that he flexed his arm on purpose. “Shouldn’t it be more?”

“Take it or leave it, Jeon.”

Jungkook lightly groaned. “Fine. Give me the money.”

“First we need to see your performance,” Taehyung said, moving aside to let Jungkook pass through. He sighed and walked forward, heading your way while he ignored some of the girls he had hooked up with. He saw your raven-haired friend stand up to go throw her trash away and he took it as his perfect opportunity once he saw you stand up.

“Hey.”

You looked up at the source of sound and frowned as you saw someone you don’t talk to but knew of. “Hi?”

“How are you doing?” He sheepishly smiled, leaning against the table. You looked around, almost as if looking for some explanation and shrugged.

“Sweating like I just ran a thousand miles, this heat is not it,” you honestly responded, ignoring the way your body felt warm under his gaze. But you were pretty sure it was from the heat.

You heard him let out a quiet snort. “Way to make an impression,” he teased. But you looked at him through hooded eyes, still confused as to why he was talking to you. You looked over your shoulder and saw Nali frozen in her spot as she eyed you talking to a guy.

“Well, I definitely made a good impression if you’re talking to me,” you gave him a fake smile, one that you hoped he noticed so he could take a hint you didn’t want to talk to him.

Jungkook slightly chuckled at your words, walking along with you as you walked. “I’ll pick you up Friday, then?”

“Oh, yeah, me, going out on a Friday,” you sarcastically commented, shaking your head as your chest moved up and down from the fact you found it funny being seen out on a Friday since it was your lazy day.

“Or, you know,” Jungkook looked at the floor, hands in his pockets, “I can show you special places you’ve never seen and been in.”

“Oh, like how you show every other girl you hook up with?” You gave him a pointed look and he stayed quiet at the call out. No one said that to his face, just behind his back. “Listen, Jeon, you’re not gonna get inside my pants. Give up, okay?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so, pretty, and don’t believe everything you hear. I have no intentions on sleeping with you.”

“Alright, what’s my name then?” You crossed your arms as you now stood closer to him, shoes bumping against each other.

“I know a lot more than you think I do,” he smirked, leaning his face slightly closer to yours. You stood in your place, not wavering and huffed.

“Give up. Do not try to talk to me again.”

You walked away and left him behind you, ignoring the way you could still feel his gaze on the back of your head. Nali spared him a look and he waved at her, turning around to leave himself.

“Now, why was Jeon Jungkook talking to you?” She asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know.”

It was still questionable as to why he chose to talk to you out of every other girl he knew. The frustration of not knowing caused you to get into some petty argument with Hanni and in your defense, she was being such a bitch at aiming her attacks at your mom because your dad left. You berated her for such thinking but you knew despite anything you shared or stated, she and your mom would turn on you.

Because of the new changes in your life, you started getting stressed. It wasn’t a good idea, but you decided to get rid of that feeling by buying books you have heard about and wanted to give it a read.

“Interesting car.”

You didn’t even have to look up from the book you were inspecting to know that it was Jungkook.

“Are you following me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow before going back to reading the plot of the book. He gestured towards the supermarket across the book store and then gestured towards some nearby apartments.

“No, I was in the store and when I was heading home, I saw you,” he responded, raising the bag in his hand to show you he was speaking the truth. You nodded and he leaned against your car, taking note of your cute outfit. “You look pretty.”

“Do I not do so every day?” He could hear the slight teasing tone in your voice. When you looked at him, he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue over his lips, slightly starting to nibble on them. He eyed your glossy lips and God did they look so soft.

“You’re not attracted to me, are you?” He asked and you almost laughed in his face.

“No, why should I?” You shrugged, making him move aside so you could put your things inside. You eyed the building and then at him. “Do you want a little ride…?”

He gasped dramatically and placed his hand on his chest. “Little ol’ me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Never mind and to think I wanted to be a bit nice to you.”

“I’m kidding, dummy,” he said, throwing you a grin. “Thank you for offering. I’m sure it was so, so hard for you.”

“Shut u—Wait!” He automatically froze at your sudden outburst and your hands were hovering in front of you, preventing him from walking. “Geez, you almost stepped on a roly-poly.”

Jungkook was pretty much left speechless at the sudden act of yours, watching your crouched figure with wide eyes. He didn’t think he’d be able to see this soft side of yours for animals rather quickly. He assumed it would take a while to bring down that hard exterior.

“How did you even notice that?” He asked him and you could only sigh rather loudly at his words. “I’m sorry for almost stepping on it.”

“You better,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to get inside. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Jungkook headed inside and as soon as you were heading inside, too, a car parked right next to yours. You turned to look since they were close to hitting you and groaned at coming to see Taehyung.

“What the hell?” You cursed, turning to face him. “You almost hit me, you shitface.”

“Good.”

Taehyung got out of his car and went around, coming face to face with you. He was smug and you were glaring at him like you normally do.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Taehyung,” you spat out, opening your car door but he shook his head, finding your reaction funny.

“No, I’m okay,” he chuckled before turning to look at Jungkook who pretended not to notice him. “So, you’re becoming Jeon’s new toy, huh?”

“Yeah, Taehyung, totally,” you put a foot inside, ignoring him at this point since you knew you would just get angry at every nonsense he spewed.

“Good, maybe he can do something about that uptight personal—”

He didn’t get a word out before you punched him in the stomach, taking away his breath—literally. He groaned, leaning down to clutch onto his stomach, and you shook your head, getting inside the car. You started the car and ignored Jungkook simply laughing a little.

“We never talk about this.”

And he indeed did talk about it. But not with girls or anyone but rather with Jimin and Yujun, who immediately went out of their way to help him… considering they’re the ones who planned everything.

“We can help you out,” Yujun firmly stated, though the hard exterior he tried to show diminished once Jungkook gave him one simple look.

“Why should I receive your help?” Jungkook asked, sketching out the painting his art teacher assigned.

“Well, my brother here,” Jimin leaned, patting his younger brother’s chest, “is in love with her sister, Hanni.”

“Is everyone in love with her or something?” Jungkook scoffed, letting out a laugh. “It’s crazy as to how far you’re going for this chick.”

“Unlike Taehyung, Yujun is actually in love with Hanni,” Jimin continued, ignoring the way his brother tried adding some commentary. “Taehyung just wants to sleep with her.”

“I don’t care,” Jungkook breathed out, hearing the two follow him as he moved away to grab more utensils. “Look, I’m in it for the cash. I don’t entirely care who Taehyung fucks.”

“As if,” Yujun retorted sarcastically, hating the picture Jungkook basically depicted.

“Jungkook, we set up the whole entire thing so Yujun can get Hanni,” Jimin explained. “Taehyung is just a side character in all of this, we just made him think he has the upper hand.”

“You two actually created the plan?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, stopping in his tracks as he stared at the two in shock. The siblings nodded enthusiastically and Jungkook let out his usual snort. “As long as you two help me with her. She hates my guts.”

“We will, we will,” Jimin nodded, sticking out his hand to grip Jungkook’s. Although, he simply grabbed it and Jungkook gripped it rather tightly until he winced in pain. “We’ll do the research and we’ll just found out what she likes so you have an idea on what you can do to win her. We’re basically your computer guys.”

“Don’t make us hack into things please,” Yujun softly pleaded, gulping nervously and Jungkook simply threw him a confused look.

“We have a perfect place where you can take her,” Jimin immediately piped in, showing Jungkook the story of the Instagram account that planned parties. “Jung Mihi is having a party. You can take her there. It will be perfect.”

“For?”

“For you to actually go out with her?” Jimin frowned, wondering if it was not obvious as to what he was hinting. He flicked Jungkook’s forehead out of bravery. “Get your head in the game, Jeon. This is serious.”

“I’m paying attention, oh, my God.”

“You need to take her to this.”

“Alright, alright, I will. Now leave me alone until you give me something useful.”

“Do we have to be here?”

Yujun was glancing around the small house party with a disgusted look, Jimin leading him towards where he heard Jungkook was by.

“He’s here!” Jimin yelled at his little brother over his shoulder, who simply groaned but still followed after him.

People greeted Jimin here and there but Yujun was too focused on just talking to Jungkook and getting out of there. After all, he was too eager to make sure he was studying for the language Hanni needed help in.

“He’s over there,” someone gestured towards a couple making out and Yujun spotted the inked arm. Yeah, this was a bad idea. He wouldn’t be too surprised if you denied the idea of dating him because he slept with half of the girls from uni.

“Thanks, man,” Jimin patted the guy on the back and he and Yujun walked towards Jungkook who had a girl on his lap, heads moving side to side to keep up with one another.

Yujun cleared his throat and Jungkook simply held a finger up, signaling the two to wait. But Jimin tapped the girl on the shoulder and then did that make her stop.

“What?” She snapped. Jimin simply gave her a sarcastic smile, his thumb being thrown over his shoulder to gesture his next words.

“Leave,” she raised an eyebrow, “or else I will literally shave your hair right now, I am not kidding.” She seemed to take his threat to heart because Jungkook started glaring at him when the girl stood up. He continued keeping his stare on Jimin while the girl left towards where Jimin was previously gesturing. “Yeah, walk away. Walk away.”

Jungkook sighed and stood up, heading towards the kitchen. He ignored the brothers because he knew why they were there. After all, they wouldn’t stop leaving him alone and followed him everywhere to remind him of the plan that they had created.

“What do you got?” He questioned them as they indeed followed him. He turned around to face them, placing the brim of the cup on his lips to savor the taste of the drink. Yujun lightly gulped at the way he was so cool and stoic.

“Well, he got insight into a very cool girl who is definitely way out of your league,” Jimin simply shrugged as if the words he just said were definitely not going to get him punched. Jungkook could only snort at the bluntness, though. “Also, should you be drinking when you have someone at home?”

“What?” Jungkook gave him a confused expression, brows furrowed. Jimin simply waved him off, shaking his head.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Yujun gave his older brother a look before he, too, shook his head, taking out his phone to look at the notes he had written down. “Alright, well first,” Yujun grabbed Jungkook’s cigarette out of his hand, “Y/n hates smokers.”

“So, you’re telling me I’m a non-smoker?” He questioned and the two nodded. He hummed and continued drinking. “That’s fine.”

Jimin nodded. “Just for now.”

“And here’s another problem,” Yujun started, glancing at his older brother before looking at Jungkook, his fingers slightly shaking. “Hanni said that Y/n likes pretty guys.”

There was a moment of silence and Jungkook jerked his head to look towards him, a perplexed look on his face. He looked at Jimin, almost as if he was making sure he heard the youngest right.

“Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?” He asked, a bit hurt by the choice of words.

“You’re very pretty!” Jimin nervously chuckled because although Jungkook was two years younger than him, he knew that the boy boxed almost everyday in the gym close to his house. “This is a gorgeous guy.”

“Yeah, I just—” Yujun immediately spluttered out words defending himself. “I just wasn’t sure. I didn’t know.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes, drinking from the cup he had in his hand. “Continue.”

“Alright,” Yujun rapidly nodded, wanting to get out of the situation. “Here’s this.” He then took out a piece of paper. “She likes milkshakes and hot dogs, feminist prose and angry girl music of the indie rock persuasion—I don’t know what that means—and here’s a list of vinyl records she has in her room.”

Jungkook sniffed and got the paper handed to him, eyeing the words written down. “You know… you have a phone. You could’ve taken pictures or searched up their music.”

“Well, that’s your job now!” Yujun grinned, sending him a thumbs up.

“Is that all she likes?” Jungkook asked, frowning confusedly. “She doesn’t like more?”

“She likes going to concerts,” Jimin replied, glancing at the paper. “She’s going to Moon 7 tomorrow night, her favorite band is playing there.”

“I can’t be seen at Moon 7, alright?” Jungkook curtly chuckled nervously, shaking his head. “I’ve slept with half of the girls there and they’re all pretty mad at me for sleeping around.”

“But y/n will be there,” Yujun urged. “She’s got tickets.”

“Ignore your girl issues and actually hang out with a girl who doesn’t want to have sex with you, you jerk,” Jimin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Though, his shoulders slumped when Jungkook gave him a deadpan look.

“Fine, fine!” Jungkook groaned. “I’ll fucking go tomorrow. But if anything happens, I’m coming to your house and placing a pillow over your head until you die.”

Jimin stared at his brother, gulping at the threat. Jungkook left but Jimin was nervously laughing, calling out to him, “You’re not going to actually do that, right?”

Jungkook simply waved because now he has to find a way to get into the club. It was a prestigious club so for you to get tickets, it would’ve cost a fortune. But he sighed, he needed to get inside and he thought back on his flings, remembering someone who had access to that.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to go through his contacts to find the number he was looking for. He called and was a a bit shaken up when he immediately got yelled at by the woman over the phone.

“Now you call me?” She yelled and he sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for a stupid call of yours after you left me.”

“I told you it was a no strings attached,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing and it was, because one thing about Jungkook is he never gets attached to any girl. “Anyway, I need a favor.”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whined childishly. “This is urgent.”

“Why should I?”

“Ugh, I fell for this girl and I want to go inside Moon 7 to see her because I’m trying to impress her,” Jungkook half lied through his gritted teeth. The girl on the other end stayed quiet and she groaned after a few seconds.

“I wanted to say no but it’s cute,” she breathed out and Jungkook crossed his fingers, hoping she would agree. “Fine. I’ll get you on the list but after this, erase my number.”

“Got it.”

And that’s how Jungkook ended up in a club filled with girls. He eyed the banner on the side of the entrance, reading it in his head; Girls Night with free food, drinks, and music. He sighed and hoped there would be at least some partners that were men or identified as such, knowing that if he was alone there, either he would get teased or the women he slept with would secretly kill him.

He passed by the long, narrow hallway leading to the place where music was bouncing off the walls, shaking the floor. He could see a couple of girls surprised to see him there but other than that, no other girl noticed his presence—he was thankful for that.

He walked inside even more and he looked around, trying to find you among the crowd of people dancing to the music being played. He almost gave up but he quickly found you with the friend you were always with, slightly swaying to the band before banging your head up and down rather dramatically. He knew you were playing around by the fact you started laughing after your actions and he found himself smiling, too, at seeing the way you looked much more free and having the time of your life.

“Hmm, pretty,” he mumbled to himself.

He chuckled one more time before he looked around and walked towards the side bar, making sure the girls he had hooked up with a couple of months ago were nowhere to be found. He sighed in relief once he couldn’t find the familiar faces and smiled when he saw the worker there.

“What are you doing here?”

“Come on, hyung, just start with saying you missed me,” Jungkook grinned, making sure to give him a side hug as best as he could. “I didn’t know you still worked here.”

“Well, judging from the fact that half of the workers here quit, I have finally found peace,” Yoongi stated and Jungkook felt even more relaxed at his words. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” he cleared his throat, looking around, “hanging around.”

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi scoffed, serving him a drink Jungkook usually got. “Which girl?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows in question. “Which girl is in your radar?”

The tattooed man briefly gestured your way with his chin, drinking. “Just… someone.”

“Well, she must be special if you came back to this club after you slept with half the workers and they all threatened to cut your dick off if you ever showed your face,” Yoongi lightly chuckled, clearly finding the previous situation amusing. Jungkook sarcastically laughed along, rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet, get back to working.”

Yoongi did so but he couldn’t walk off further when he heard a girl yelling over the music.

“Two waters please,” she said and Yoongi nodded, quickly passing them to her and taking the money she gave him. Though, he knew it was the girl Jungkook was referring to since she was giving him a look.

“I didn’t perceive you as the stalking type,” you teased him, voice raising a bit so he could hear you. He hid his smile behind the cup in his hand.

“I’m not,” a small smirk was on his lips as he looked at you, eyes dropping to eye the outfit you wore. “Now, shoo! Your doubt is ruining this for me.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at his words. But you also couldn’t help but notice something else. “You’re not smoking like you usually do.”

“I quit,” he looked at you under his lashes, shrugging as if his words were nothing. “I had to, they’re bad for you.”

“Yeah, you think?” You tilted your head to the side and he huffed, a smile still on his lips. Silence consumed you both but he remembered he needed to woo you so he continued the conversation.

“They aren’t bad!” He commented about the music playing, turning around in his seat and leaving you behind to process his words. You chased after him, confused.

“I did not perceive you as the type to listen to this type of music,” you honestly said, staring up at him. You two watched the crowd and the band playing and he hid the satisfaction at knowing that he caught your attention.

He continued drinking from his cup, ignoring your statement and continued to watch. “I was watching you in the crowd. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.”

His words were heard by the crowd of girls that surrounded you both, the song having ended at the same time as he was saying his compliments. You giggled at the reactions he received—the girls laughed and some awed—and he coughed to cover his light embarrassment.

He smiled at seeing the way you grinned at his words.

“Come to the party with me,” he leaned down to say, making sure this time that his words were now heard between the two of you.

“You never give up, do you?” You questioned, a fond look on your face as you turned to look at Nali who called out for you.

“I can’t help it when you look at me with those pretty eyes,” he shrugged, a smirk still spread on his lips. He looked at the stage at hearing the music playing again and he had to lean even closer to make sure you were heard. “So, yes?”

“Here,” you passed him your phone. “Write down your number.” He smiled and took it, typing it down. He called it and you took your phone away from his grasp at seeing he didn’t lie. “Send me a convincing paragraph and we’ll see.”

You threw him a smile over your shoulder, walking away. You could feel his stare and his voice was heard. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Nope!”

“Okay, I’ll see you Friday!”

That night, you received a message. Just one simple message in the middle of the night as soon as you were going to head to sleep.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: I know you like to read, tell me any name of a book and I’ll buy it for you and I’ll listen to your explanations as soon as you’re finished. I’d rather spend a day listening to your pretty voice and hearing you rant about certain characters or plot. I’ll be waiting 🩵

“Should’ve used the window.”

You frowned as you heard your mom in the living room, standing up from your comfortable position on the beanbag in your room. You headed towards the voices and saw that Hanni and her friend, Yoona, were dressed up, staring at your mother rather guiltily.

“Hi, Mom,” Hanni smiled innocently, though she was shifting from one foot to another.

“Where are you going?” Your mom asked, folding her arms over her chest, staring down at your sister who cleared her throat.

“A, uh, small study group of friends,” Hanni lied through her teeth, gulping down the nerves that were clearly showing.

“It might as well be you going to an orgy if you’re trying to hide,” your mom raised an eyebrow, squinting her eyes as she looked between the two. “I would’ve let you go if you just told me.”

“It’s just a party,” Hanni breathed out.

“Yeah, exactly, a party,” your mom punched the bridge of her nose before turning to look at you. “You know anything about a party?”

You shrugged, not wanting to say “yes” because you knew that you’d have to give your younger sister a ride if it came to it. You turned around to walk away in order to continue to read, wanting to take the last few minutes to yourself, before Jungkook, came to read the interesting part of the book you were coming across.

“I’m supposed to show up,” Hanni continued to argue, irritating you to an extreme since you didn’t like how she spoke to your mom sometimes and got away with it. “My friends expect me to be there.”

“If your sister’s not going, you’re not going,” your mom fought back, ignoring Hanni splutter out disagreements at her words. Your mom stopped, though, once Hanni targeted you next. You simply gave your sister a deadpan expression.

“Why can’t you be a normal person for once and go out?” Hanni exclaimed, trying to get you to go so she can go, not knowing that you were going to the party already. Just not with her.

“There’s literally no reason for you to get close to my face,” you glared at her, hovering a hand in front of her face, “or to yell at me and mom. It’s just a stupid party, you can miss one, it’s not the end of the world.”

“For you it might not be, but for me it is,” Hanni snapped back, shaking her head before turning to look at Yoona who looked uncomfortable being there. Your sister sighed and dragged you away. “Just… I’m sorry, okay? But can you please go, just for one night. Please. I just want to be able to experience first time things without Mom being worried.”

“I never said I wasn’t not going,” you chuckled at your sister’s words, her hand dropping from your arm. “You got on my face before I could say anything.”

“Oh, God,” your mom shakily let out, staring at her two daughters with shock. “It’s starting.”

“Mom, I love you, but you’re talking to girls who are in college,” you said, finding humor in how she reacted. “I’ll take care of her, okay?”

“You’re wearing the belly, though,” your mom pointed at Hanni whose excited expression morphed into one of horror as she had heard from you about the ‘belly’. Yoona gasped dramatically and you made a face, looking away as you put on your shoes.

“Mom, please don’t,” Hanni started to beg, anxiety consuming her body as your mom went to reach for the fake pregnancy belly. You had gone through it at the age of 16 and never again did you want to do the things you wanted to do if it meant wearing that. “This is way too much.”

“I don’t want my daughters to have children at this age because of this stupid party,” your mom shook her head as your head jerked towards the door after hearing knocks.

You reached forward to open the door and there Jungkook stood with a black jacket on, a white, tight t-shirt tucked into this black pants that showcased his waist—you tried not to notice the tattoos on his arm that were see through when he was fixing the jacket—and his combat boots that added more to his height.

“Hey,” he smiled at you, his lip ring glistening under the porch light.

“Hi,” you smiled back before wincing at hearing your mom and sister continuing to bicker behind you based on your mom’s actions.

“Mom, this is not necessary,” Hanni nervously chuckled, feeling the weight of the fake belly being placed on her. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head.

You glanced over your shoulder and cowered in embarrassment. You cleared your throat, trying your hardest to hide the sight of your now fake pregnant sister. Though, Jungkook’s towering figure saw her over your head, and he breathlessly chuckled.

“Is your sister knocked up or…?” Jungkook questioned, frowning confusedly. You snorted and Hanni turned to look at him.

“I’m not,” she cleared it up but she was more in disbelief that Jeon Jungkook was standing on the front porch of her house, talking to her sister. “What are you doing here?”

“Your sister’s coming with me,” he simply said, shrugging his shoulders. You gave him a smile before turning to look at your mom.

“Every time you even think about kissing a boy,” your mom started again, getting closer to your sister and fixing the belly, “I want you to think back to this, okay?”

“Mom, leave her alone, she doesn’t need to wear that,” you sighed, defending your sister. Your mom looked your way before she noticed the figure next to you. “And we are leaving.”

“I can say hi to your mom,” Jungkook said and your mom hummed in agreement, softly pushing you to the side. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and brought you closer to his side before letting go. But, he did grab your hand to make you stay put. “Hi, Ms. Kim.”

“Hi,” your mom slightly squinted her eyes to kind of intimidate him. “Who are you?”

“He’s a friend mom,” you said and she waved you off, shaking his hand.

“What’s your name?” She asked again.

“Jungkook,” he smiled a little and your mom hummed yet again. Hanni, who took off the belly after a minute, and Yoona headed towards you three. “Uh, I have my car if you guys want to get inside already.”

“We’ll take my car,” you told him, raising your keys. “I’m not drinking so you can drink and I can give you a ride if you do drink.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook waved you off. He turned to look at your mom. “I’ll drop them off safe and sound. I know you just met me but I don’t want to leave them behind.”

“Hmm, as long as you all come back in one piece, please,” your mom looked at you and your sister and you nodded. “Okay, then. Have fun and Jungkook,” he received a small smile, “come over for dinner soon. I’ll like to get to know you better.”

“Of course,” Jungkook nodded. He smiled one more time and then did you four walked towards the car. Jungkook didn’t let you drive your own car so you and him bickered for a bit before you let him drive it, not wanting to give him the keys. He took them from you and Hanni and Yoona just watched you two, confused as to when you two started talking.

“So,” Hanni started as soon as Jungkook drove off, “you two are friends?”

The two of you glanced at one another and hummed simultaneously, not wanting to give away too much. After all, your sister was known to have a mouth on her so if she knew that Jungkook wanted to basically take you out, every girl he hooked up with would come for your throat. You have heard from them that he didn’t like committing to people and they didn’t like hearing that from him. So, to say you were afraid and anxious was an understatement.

When you got to the party, you immediately went to go look for a place you can hide because although you agreed to come, you never said “yes” to actually partying. You were way too tired to enjoy the music and dance with everyone else. You couldn’t even tried to hide because Jungkook was right behind you.

“Jungkook, kiss me!”

A girl immediately latched herself on Jungkook and you rolled your eyes. Maybe you did make a mistake in giving him a chance. You walked even further and heard him chuckle.

“You’re way too drunk, maybe you should go home already,” he said, making sure the girl was okay. He led her to a chair where she automatically placed her head on a drawer nearby, eyes closing as she muttered incoherent words. Jungkook still followed behind you.

A few minutes passed and girls after girls tried kissing Jungkook. He just laughed and passed girls to their girlfriends nearby, chasing after you. Of course, the girls he hooked up with were confused because at this point he would be kissing—making out—with someone in a room, bathroom, or on the corner of the room. Here he was, though, chasing after a girl who didn’t even spare him a look. Then, he lost you after one final girl put up a fight after he tried getting her off of him.

You walked through a crowd of people and found yourself looking around to make sure you weren’t going to head in the same direction again.

“Nice to see you’re out of your cave,” you sighed as you heard Taehyung’s voice next to you, cursing yourself for not remembering he was going to show up, of course. “You look good.”

“Leave me alone, Taehyung,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as he appeared in front of you. “Focus more on the obvious booger coming out of your nose right now.”

You walked away as he placed his hand on his nose self-consciously, though he chased after you almost immediately.

“Where are you going?” He asked, hand gripping your arm. You wished Jungkook was now close to you. You’ve heard that he once beat the shit out of someone who started a fight with him and you’d like to see that happen at this moment.

“Away, your bad breath is giving me a headache,” you retorted, moving to one side and another since Taehyung followed your movements.

“Where’s Hanni?” You immediately turned to look at him, eyes burning themselves in that smug face of his.

“Stay away from my sister, you creep,” you spat out, continuing to glare at him.

“Believe me, I can stay away from her,” he raised his hands up in mock surrender, a smirk tilting on his lips, “but, we both know she can’t stay away from me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” you scoffed, hands being formed into fists as you were so close to punching him. But, before you could do so, a group of people started running near you two, glass breaking and huge thuds being heard. At hearing that there was a fight, Taehyung followed shortly after.

You looked around the mansion in curiosity at this point. There was too much to look at and there were objects you wanted to touch but knew you shouldn’t. You had a home, a nice one, but this house was on another level.

You were about to head outside when a voice called you over.

“I guess she couldn’t stay away from me,” you shook your head as you eyed your sister. She was happy just being by his side that told everyone she was with him.

You knew you couldn’t stop her even if you wanted. She would just shake you off like she usually did so you watched with anger as Taehyung pulled your sister away.

“You want me to beat the shit out of him?” You glanced over your shoulder and shrugged sadly, a sigh escaping your lips again. Jungkook stood not so far, hands in the pockets of his jacket, hair disheveled, and lips pink from biting them so much. “Come on, let’s go. I found a cute swing outside.”

“Let’s go.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and your fingers intertwined almost immediately. His large and intimidating figure pushed through everyone, making sure you were okay right behind him. He made sure to ignore the girls waving at him because he knew that wouldn’t do a great impression.

He led you away, feeling confident in being able to woo you since Taehyung gave him extra money on being able to take you out to a party, something you haven’t done. But, should he feel such guilt for something he agreed on doing?

“I swear I’m going to get a concussion by the amount of people pushing me very hard,” he heard you grumble. He chuckled and instead led you to be in front of him, hands placed on your hips. He steered you away and pushed guys who bumped into you a bit too hard, and when they would try to see the person who pushed them, they all cowered at meeting his gaze.

You two managed to get outside and you sighed in relief at being able to breathe properly. Before you could continue walking, a boy stopped you two from doing so.

“Can we talk?” He asked, his gaze on Jungkook who glanced at him and then at you.

“Um, I’m a little busy,” he said, but you shook your head.

“Go ahead, I’ll wait for you.”

Jungkook thanked you and he and Yujun walked off not so far from you but far to the point you couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“What?” Jungkook asked, raising his brows.

“The whole thing is off,” Yujun said, clearly exasperated with the situation that occurred not so long ago with Hanni and Taehyung. “I don’t care anymore so you can just… drop her off at home.”

“Dude, we did not go through all of this just for you to back out of it,” Jungkook gave him a look and he glanced your way when a guy sat next to you, his hand sticking out for you to shake it.

“Well, that was before I found out she never wanted me,” Yujun argued, a defeated look on his face as he remembered the times he and Hanni hung out. “She wanted Taehyung and that stupid face of his.”

“Do you love her?” Jungkook simply asked, raising his brows again as he waited for the boy to answer. Yujun nodded. “She’s clearly worth all this trouble you caused so why are you giving up so easily, huh? Just because Taehyung was with her? You can make her fall in love with you by being you. There’s no point in giving up so easily.”

“I thought she was but, Taehyung—”

“You need to stop focusing on Taehyung, Yujun,” Jungkook reassured him, placing a hand while making sure you were safe. “Taehyung is not half the man you are. He wouldn’t have thought about this whole plan so he can get the girl. You did that. Stop letting Taehyung win. Don’t let him make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want, okay? Be yourself.”

Yujun processed his words and before he could utter a word, Jungkook immediately went to your aid when you slapped the guy who was talking to you.

“What a fucking creep you are,” you shook your head, glaring at the man who held his cheek. Jungkook looked at you. “He groped me.”

Now it was Jungkook’s turn to glare at the man who already looked scared staring at you. The man now shrunk in fear once he met Jungkook’s eyes.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t know she was your girl,” the man stuttered out as best as he could, gulping down his nerves that Jungkook saw through.

“Do that shit again, I dare you,” Jungkook calmly said, scaring him even more. The man shook his head. “Touch her, again, and I will beat the fuck out of you. Do not start.” The man ran away in fear and you angrily sighed, walking away.

The tattooed man followed after and he guided you towards the swings on top of a little hill. You two walked and he helped you when you almost fell—you burst out into little giggles at the fact you were so close to embarrassing yourself—going up.

You two sat down on the swings and enjoyed the silence, legs moving up and down to create a stable movement. The music from inside was barely heard outside, so you two enjoyed the comfortable silence that consumed you two.

“Why do you let Taehyung get to you?”

You looked at Jungkook as soon as those words escaped his lips and shrugged, hands holding onto the rope on each side of you, slightly moving.

“Taehyung has that affect after you know the type of person he is,” you replied, sniffing as you looked away from his face.

“What type of person is he?”

“The narcissistic one,” you answered with a humorous smile tilting at the end of your mouth. “He’s egotistical and completely selfish. He thinks he’s either a victim or the savior.”

“Judging from how you talk about him,” Jungkook started, “I’m guessing you knew him very well.”

“We dated,” you shrugged as if the news were nothing. “But then getting to know him, the real him, opened my eyes in a way. I was always the problem, never him. So, I ignored him. I tried to break it off and he got mad at me, told a couple of his friends I slept with him and shared private moments between us.”

Now Jungkook felt even worse. He should stop all of this before it got way out of hand and before you found out.

“What about you?” Your question broke him out of his own thoughts. “Why did you decide to chase after me?—If you can say that.”

Jungkook smiled at your question and his shoulders went up and down. “I didn’t know about you at first but then, I heard your name once, and then another, and then another, and then another. It was almost like everywhere I turned, your name was being shared between two people or a whole group.”

“Ah, so the rumors spread caught your attention,” you teased, a grin on your face.

Jungkook snorted and shook his head. “No, no. I don’t care about what rumors are spread about you or your sister. It’s none of my business. I did hear, though, that you did hit a guy and gave another guy more than a slap. Did you really break his nose?”

“Oh, my God,” you facepalmed and you could hear Jungkook laugh at your expression. “Shut up. I can neither confirm or deny.”

“Mmm, I think you did beat him up,” Jungkook bumped his shoulder against yours and you smiled, ignoring his words.

You two stayed quiet after a few and he eyed you. He noticed the goosebumps on your arms and he knew full well you were cold. You didn’t shiver or anything, so he just read your body language that showed him he was right.

Taking off his jacket, he placed it over your shoulders, catching you off-guard. You jumped, startled by the sudden action and looked down at the sleeves.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your hands going through the sleeves as you couldn’t bare the coldness anymore. “Oh, my God. This thing is huge on me, look!”

You stood up and Jungkook let out a low chuckle as he eyed the way his jacket almost overtook your frame, swallowing you.

“You look cute,” Jungkook complimented, placing the side of his head on the rope of the swing.

“I better,” you playfully retorted back, laughing to yourself as you closed the jacket and opened it almost like you would a blanket.

Jungkook simply watched you with hooded eyes, a smile on his face. He didn’t know you’d be this cute and it’s crazy to him how he could tell the difference between the first time you two met to now. Under that hard exterior you show at first is this silly girl who loved joking around and teasing, and he loved knowing you feel safe enough to show him that side.

“Come on, pretty,” he continued to keep the smile plastered on his face as he watched you. “I’ll take you home, it’s getting late.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

You grabbed his hand and immediately took his away, leading him towards your car. He already had your keys in his back pocket so he grabbed them, opening your car door. But, you didn’t go inside, yet, and instead grabbed your phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“I think you forgot that we came with two other girls,” you snickered at his question, watching a look of realization cross his face. “Hey, Hanni, we’re leaving. Where are you?” You looked over the crowd of people coming out and Jungkook helped you look. “Oh, you’re going with Yujun? I don’t know—”

“He’s the kid that talked to me,” Jungkook cut you off and your mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you remembered.

“Never mind, Jungkook knows him,” you said on the phone. “Well, just be careful, okay? Turn on your location so I can see where you are so I can know you’re safe… Yes, or else Mom is never going to let me go out if she knew I let you go with a boy she doesn’t know about. Then, you can say bye to your social life… Yeah, yeah, okay then. Tell him to drive safe or I’m kicking him in the balls… Yeah, alright, bye.”

Jungkook watched you and you watched your phone as your sister shared her location. You looked up and confusedly smiled when you saw Jungkook staring at you.

“What is it?” You questioned, looking behind you but there was no one there.

“You threatening someone is very hot,” Jungkook breathed out and you playfully rolled your eyes, pushing him away as you got inside the car. He grinned and closed the door, heading towards the driver’s seat.

You two drove to your house and you hummed along to whatever song you knew played on the radio. You two were silent but, whenever there was something interesting, you two would make the other look and talk about it.

“Why don’t you go out a lot?” Jungkook asked after a while, causing your head to snap towards him. You shrugged.

“I was tired of asking my mom and having her become way overprotective. Every time, I had to wear that damn fake belly so she can know I know not to do stupid things, so I just isolated myself.”

Jungkook processed your words as he parked close to your house, shutting the car off.

“You don’t strike me as the type of girl to be asking her mom for permission,” he said, eyes running themselves over you, eyeing the way you twirled with a ring on your finger.

“Now you think you know me?” You arched a brow, but he knew you didn’t mean it in any ill way.

“I’m starting to,” he smiled a little and you did, too.

“It’s crazy to me how you even want to get to know me,” you started, eyeing the way the lamppost above you two flickered. “People are too scared to get to do so.”

“I don’t mind,” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and you sniffed as you ignored the way he flexed his tattooed arm by looking away again. “I’m not… as innocent either.”

You looked at him and you two looked into the other’s eyes intensely. His gaze went from watching how your eyes fluttered to your mouth, lips slightly glossed as you kept putting a lip oil on them to prevent them from splitting.

He snapped out of the daze you put him in and softly cleared his throat, eyeing the steering wheel. “What’s up with your mom, by the way? Why does she make you wear these bellies?”

“She delivers babies,” you put it in a simple matter. “She got pregnant with me at a young age so she wants us not to go through what she went through. My dad left her heartbroken and that’s why she doesn’t want us to date when we’re studying for our degree. That’s why she wants me to be more like… Hanni because she thinks Hanni is this perfect person who listens to every word she says.”

Jungkook nodded along to your words. “Does she?” You gave him a look and he snorted as he remembered. “Right, she follows Taehyung around.”

“Yep. I don’t want to be somebody I’m not and I’m not Hanni in any way.” You pushed hair away from your face, leaning your head against the head seat.

“Well,” Jungkook started making you turn to look at him, “I know your sister is, like, loved by everyone but, she’s not as cool and funny as you. She especially doesn’t dance like you do.”

You pushed his shoulder, shaking your head with an embarrassed smile started to make its way to your lips. “Shut up.”

“I’m just being honest, Y/n.”

You breathed in and exhaled, his words circling your brain. You stretched your hands out on your thighs, caressing the material of your pants and pursed your lips, giving him a side glance.

“You’re not as jerk-y as I thought you were,” you stated honestly, chewing on your bottom lip as sudden nerves invaded your body. He let out a breathless chuckle and he looked at you when you looked at him.

You could simply admire his features under the lights, watching the way his tongue ran itself over his lips to his lip ring. You looked at him from under your lashes and he let out a curt breath.

“I really want to kiss you,” he muttered, staring at your own lips. “But I-I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to…?” You breathed out, frowning as you repeated his words. He internally cursed himself at his sudden harsh words but he couldn’t. Not right now.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a rude way,” he immediately defended himself. “I just can’t kiss you, Y/n. I don’t want to because I am disgusted by that or anything I just don’t…” He sighed, slumping his shoulders. “Never mind.”

You slowly nodded, ignoring the way his words hurt you. You gulped your feelings down. “Can I have my keys? It’s getting late and I’m feeling tired.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook passed you the keys and you two went outside.

Locking the door behind you two, you waved him off awkwardly before heading inside your house. It felt like the walk of shame and it might as well be that way because of the fact you felt ashamed that the guy who kissed and got with every girl at uni didn’t even want you.

But, you didn’t care right now. You’ll try to sleep it off.

And sleeping it off did not happen.

You didn’t know why his sudden presence and actions were making you overthink. You never cared about anyone’s actions or thoughts about you. You never did so why was he any different?

That is the question that went through your mind even on Monday when you walked into your first class. Nali was by your side helping you understand, but she even felt helpless for not being able to help you properly. Though, she did come to a conclusion on her own that you were developing feelings and you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. Of course, she wouldn’t tell you. You would get scared so she kept her theory—which she knew wasn’t—to herself.

You kept yourself in the library, away from everyone. You were currently reading the pages of the book Mr. Kim assigned, but you couldn’t even read the words without thinking back on what happened two days ago.

You were dozing off, the quietness of your surroundings making you do so. As you drifted off, you felt someone stand by you.

“Um, hey.”

You looked up and came to find Jimin, a popular senior who had been in some of your classes and even helped you once when you had way too many books. He was also the guy Nali was in love with. “Oh, hi. What can I help you with?”

“I actually came here because of someone,” Jimin winced as he heard the words come out of his mouth. He heard you sigh and knew that you knew who it was. “Um, are you guys okay? He seemed down today.”

“He seemed down?” You were taken aback at the revelation and shook your head. “No, no, no. His words hurt and he knows what those words are. So, tell him he has my number and he can text or call me, not bring his friend to talk for him.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and heading towards the bathroom because you weren’t going to leave the damn library at all.

Jimin snickered as he heard your words and quickly scurried off to tell Jungkook who was not so patiently waiting with Yujun. He was biting his nails and he ignored the girls who wanted to talk to him, his own thoughts being the only thing he needed to worry about

“So, what did she say?” He asked as soon as Jimin stood in the front of the two. He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“You’re fucked,” he simply stated and Jungkook groaned. “She said that you have her phone number and that you can talk to her instead of sending me to talk to her for you. I told you, didn’t I? And guess what? You didn’t listen to me.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook breathed out, rolling his eyes as he sat on a nearby bench. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You can make her something or do something that will show her you’re intensely sorry,” Jimin suggested, shrugging his shoulders as he sat next to the tattooed man, waving at some seniors who waved at him. “Do you sing?”

“I mean, yeah,” Jungkook nodded. Jimin squinted his eyes.

“Sing right now.” Jungkook did so and Jimin hummed in satisfaction, nodding his head. “Okay, then. Make her a song or something. Let her know that you’re genuinely sorry and it’s not just some stupid ass excuse.”

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook groaned, standing up. He glanced at the two and he looked around the campus. “Come on. I know what we can do.”

Shortly after, Jungkook was seen panting, out of breath as he tried looking for you everywhere. He had finished what he had been doing with Jimin and Yujun and 4 hours had passed since Jimin last saw you.

Jungkook knew your schedule by heart at this point since Hanni had given Yujun your schedule who then passed it to him. He was losing it and he was desperate to look for you, already planning what to say to you and give to you.

He received looks from girls he hooked up with as he ran from building to building, eyes running themselves on the faces he was met with, holding onto his phone rather tightly with the thing he wants to show you.

He remembered from Jimin recalling his previous events about you being in the library, but he didn’t think you’d still be in there since Jimin said you had left. Though, he was tired and he wasn’t giving up any time soon, so he jogged towards the library, a place he didn’t go to.

He looked everywhere for you. He checked the first floor, the second, and then he reached the 3rd floor. He eyed the desks by the shelves of books, making sure he wasn’t missing your figure.

He stopped in his footsteps, though, once he saw you reading something so intensely, furiously flipping page after page as you frowned at what you were reading.

Thankfully, because of how into the book you were, you didn’t hear his footsteps nor his panting. He watched you and the way you gasped at some type of event that occurred in the book and he even heard you muttering words to yourself about what you were reading. He smiled, but he remembered he had something to do.

Coming from behind you, he grabbed his headphones and placed them over your ears, watching you jump. You didn’t scream—he considered himself lucky—but he almost did when he felt you hitting him out of self-defense.

“Ow!” He whispered, ignoring the looks you two received from students studying. He gave you a perplexed expression. “Listen to the music instead of hitting me!”

You glared at him before doing so, noticing that he turned it up until you raised a hand to tell him to stop. You didn’t recognize the song at first, but then you recognized the lyrics and the music and then the voice.

“Is this you singing?” You whispered as quietly as you could, knowing that you couldn’t hear yourself. Jungkook nodded and he watched your facial expressions morphed into a happy one to one of disbelief to one of excitement and then back to the happy expression. He continued observing nervously until you took the headphones off, fixing your messy hair. You eyed him. “So, what was that for?”

“I’m sorry for what happened after I dropped you off at your house,” he said almost as if it was difficult for him, and it was. He never apologized. If anything, he was always the one breaking things off with a girl and then dropping her to be with another girl. And here he was, close to losing it. “You didn’t deserve the way I handled things and you didn’t deserve having one of my friend’s come up to you and talk to you for me when I could’ve done that. I’m sorry for the fact I said words that made you misunderstand me when I could’ve been clearer. I’m sorry.”

You looked at his pleading figure and sighed. You gave him one more glance before nodding. “I forgive you. But next time, be clear about what you want instead of actually hurting my feelings.”

He grinned and grabbed your hands in his, his rings causing goosebumps to rise in your arms due to the coldness of them.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He asked and you looked down at your book before turning to look at him with a sad face.

“But, I was getting in the interesting part.”

He chuckled and grabbed a chair, sitting next to you, and he placed the side of his head to rest on his propped up hand.

“Mhm, tell me about it.”

You gave him one last look and he nodded, reassuring you he didn’t mind if you ranted about the book. You did so after making sure he was comfortable and tried your hardest to stay quiet. It was almost impossible since the book had you quite heated, but Jungkook kept his hands still clasped with yours.

“And it pisses me off,” you scoffed.

“Yeah?” He looked at your lips as you licked them, a smile still plastered on his face as he tilts his head to the side, a smirk now replacing the smile. “Tell me more. I’m listening, pretty.”

You didn’t know how you ended up in this position with the perfect guy not so far from you, his eyes closed as he relished in the sound of the waves and the laughter of children.

You were currently with Jungkook, missing your next few classes to be with him on this secluded part of the beach. Thankfully, there had been grass not so far from the sand and water, so you two sat on the grass by a tree.

It was quiet between you two. A comfortable silence. But, you knew he wanted to ask something so you looked at him.

“Yes?”

“What?” He seemed taken aback by your sudden words, but he regained his composure once you looked his way.

“You have something to say, so say it.”

He frowned, eyes running around as if he was debating whether he should ask what he wanted to. He blurted it out, “What’s your excuse?”

“For?”

“For acting the way we do?” He continued. “For being this person who gets feared, loved, and hated.”

You sighed and leaned your head back. “I don’t like to do what people expect me to do.” He nodded along. “I don’t understand why I have to live up to other people’s expectations rather than my own.”

“So that’s why you’re blunt in the beginning to display the real you and see if people stay or not?” Jungkook asked and you hid the smile on your lips at the way he read you.

“Something like that.”

He breathlessly chuckled. “Then you’re doing a shitty job.”

“How so?”

“Because your attitude made me want to stay and see who you really are,” he nudged his shoulder against yours. “You intrigued me simply by telling me off.”

You lightly laughed. “I just have that type of vibe.”

He playfully rolled his eyes before he quieted down along with you. You could sense he had more to ask and you were right when he took a deep breath in and asked his next question.

“Did that stem from your mother’s attitude?” He questioned and you inhaled and exhaled at his very abrupt question. You glanced at him before looking away.

“My dad left me, my sister, and my mom,” you shrugged as if it was nothing. “I couldn’t grieve him, in a way, you know? And it sucks that you have to grieve a person very much alive but had changed throughout the years.”

“I get that,” Jungkook commented, looking down at his hands before glancing back at you, knowing that you were going somewhere with your story.

“My mom was hurt by it,” you continued, looking off to the beach in front of you. “Hanni, too, so I dismissed my feelings to take care of them. I got myself ready for school very early, made them breakfast, and woke them up. I made sure my mom went to work and I made sure Hanni was ready for school. It would be the same later when I had to make dinner and I had to make sure my mom ate because she fell into a hole that she couldn’t get out of. After all, she was sure she and my dad would last forever.”

“Did you even have time to process his leave?” Jungkook questioned, eyeing your expression and movements. You shook your head, clearing your throat to get rid of the pain in your throat since you were keeping your tears in. You fidgeted with your hands.

“I was too busy making sure my family was okay.”

“But you were a child,” Jungkook softly told you. “You didn’t have to act like an adult and dismiss your feelings to take care of someone who’s supposed to take care of you and your sister. That wasn’t your job.”

“If I didn’t do what I did,” you started, giving him a sad smile as he continued watching you. You looked away, “I don’t think my mom would’ve made it.”

You two stayed silent shortly after your words. He was processing your words and understood that you were the way you were—which wasn’t a bad thing—because of the fact you had to grow up way too quickly. You knew that you had to step in because otherwise, you and your sister wouldn’t have had a parent.

“I became someone people looked up to,” you softly mumbled out, tongue running itself over your lips. You internally sighed, though, when you remembered you had put on gloss. “I help them realize the wrongs and rights in relationships because I don’t want nobody else to suffer through what my mom suffered because of someone who berated them until they became a walking corpse. After my mom got out of the hole, she… realized what I had been doing but she didn’t exactly acknowledge it at the same time so, she put pressure on me and tries to control me a lot because she couldn’t control my dad leaving, you know?”

“I know,” Jungkook quietly coughed out as he thought about your words. He sighed, head looking up before he laid on the grass, fingers running themselves over the blades of it, closing his eyes. “I’m not proud of sleeping around with girls.”

“Then why do you do it?” You genuinely questioned, watching his lips parting to let out words was slowly forming in his head.

“I don’t exactly know,” he continued, answering your question with a tone that supported his words. “But, it was always… a fear of commitment, I guess. If I sleep around, it’s most likely that I will regain a reputation that will protect me in a sense. No one will want to commit.”

“What’s so bad about committing to someone?” You asked, looking at him from under your lashes. He hummed and moved to his side, arm supporting his weight.

“My mother cheated on my dad,” he replied. “I had gone through her phone to play some video games because at that point I was 14 and I had my phone taken away.” He laughed a little as he recounted the memory. “I was playing and I remembered I saw a message and somebody had sent her red hearts, but it wasn’t my dad. I didn’t think much of it until she received more messages. I was left with the guilt of knowing and not sharing.”

“Did you ever tell your dad?”

Jungkook snorted and nodded. “I told him. I was tired of her pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. She was telling me that my dad was cheating, wanting me to picture him in a different light so I told my dad. He heard me, understood my view of the situation because he had noticed her acting suspicious, but he still stayed so I stayed quiet, too. But, the arguments started and my dad brought the guy up—the one she was cheating on him with—every chance he could get to make a point. I had to step in, stop them, but I gave up once again when I realized it was a never ending cycle. So, my dad started cheating, too, and they separated shortly after.”

“Do you ever regret telling your dad?” You raised an eyebrow and he shrugged, playing with a leaf in his hands.

“Nope,” he simply said, popping the word loud enough for his words to be insinuated as one of relief. “I would feel more guilt if I didn’t tell him. After all, that separation made him get a decent girlfriend but it made him and my mom shitty parents. Neglected me a lot as a teenager so, I eventually stopped caring, and hung out with my grandparents.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he smiled at your genuine words, sitting up. “You didn’t have to go through that at a young age.”

“I have always been afraid of committing to someone,” he said, scooting closer to you. You watched him and now it was his turn to look at you from underneath his lashes. A small smile was on his lips while he glanced between you and the leaf in his hand. “For the days we have been talking and getting to know one another, being with you, getting to know you—as cheesy as it sounds—I have fallen in love with who you are. Commitment doesn’t sound as scary as it used to that if anything were to happen—and I hope not—I am not afraid of you breaking my heart.”

“You love me?” You breathed out as if not believing those words were coming out of your lips. You seemed taken aback and he brought his face closer to yours, eyes running themselves over your face. His hand went up, placing itself on your right cheek, forehead meeting yours. His eyes closed, letting out a small sigh that touched your own lips.

“I love the me I am whenever I’m with you,” your heart hammered against your chest and you wondered if he could hear it since he was so close to you. “You make me feel safe and you feel like home, baby. I love knowing that I have someone like you by my side.”

“I fell in love with you since you denied my kiss,” you shakily admitted, hand going up to be placed on top of his. You closed your eyes as his lips moved towards your face, kissing your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, to the middle of your eyebrows, and to your neck. “Promise me you won’t hurt me?”

He stayed quiet and your eyes opened, gulping down your nerves. He hummed, looking up at you. “I promise. You won’t hurt me?”

“I would never.”

Shortly afterward, he took you home, night overcoming you two. His jacket was placed over your shoulders and his hand was intertwined with yours as he led you towards your front door.

“So,” he started, his other hand in his front pocket, “Jimin is throwing a farewell party.”

“Oh, yeah, huh?” You clicked your tongue as you shook your head. “It’s his last year…”

“And Taehyung’s, too,” Jungkook slightly teased, knowing your intense dislike towards the man. You rolled your eyes.

“Thank goodness,” you dramatically breathed out while your free hand placed itself on your chest. “But, what about Jimin’s party?”

“Come with me,” Jungkook suggested. “I want to show you off.”

“I very much feel like arm candy.”

Jungkook snorted. “I want to reassure you in a way that I’m moving past my immature ways of sleeping around by showing I’m officially committed to you.”

“So, I’m your girlfriend now?” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly, chuckling when he smiled.

“I’m going to prepare something for you,” he answered. “I want you to be my girlfriend but you deserve so much than me asking you here. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled, kissing him.

“So you’re coming with me?”

“I will if,” he raised his brows, “you buy me a milkshake.”

He snorted and rapidly nodded. “You know I will. I like spoiling my girl.”

He gave you a big kiss on the lips, letting out a loud “mwah” over the sound of crickets nearby. You slightly giggled at his antics and looked towards your house.

“Stop, you’re going to wake up my mom.”

“Eh, she can wake up, I want to kiss you.” He continued doing so, peppering your face with either small or big kisses. You took them all happily. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Sound good?”

“No, don’t leave me,” you dragged out the last few words, holding on tightly to his inked arm. He grinned at your actions and kissed your head.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow, pretty,” he leaned down again to kiss you and you responded back. “Yeah? That sound good?”

“Mhm, sounds good.”

“See you tomorrow, baby. We’ll call tonight after I take a shower.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Bye, Mom,” you waved her off as you headed towards the door with Nali, a small smile tilted on her lips. “I’m going to a party with Nali.”

You closed the door behind you just in time to hear your mother’s voice, her tone telling you she clearly didn’t believe you. “That’s a funny joke!”

“How long is it going to take for her to know that you’re not joking?” Nali questioned with a breathy chuckle escaping her red lips, smiling widely once she came to find Jimin getting out of the backseat, waving at him. Your eyes were on the bracelets you adorned, fixing some tangled ones.

“Honestly, right about now,” you snickered along with her, already knowing how your mom processes news that catch her off guard. After all, her secluded daughter is going on her second house party and she didn’t even have to make her go.

You smiled next once Jungkook came out of the driver’s seat, trying so hard not to ogle at the way his clothes looked on him. He was wearing a black button-up with a few buttons undone that exposed his collarbones and chest, and black jeans that hugged his legs well. He was wearing his usual combat boots, gaining a bit more height like he always does when he wears them.

“Before I compliment how beautiful you look,” he started as soon as he stood in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. “I got you,” he stuck out his hand, a necklace dangling from his finger, “a necklace.”

You softly gasped at the dainty silver necklace, a small blue pendant glistening under the lampposts surrounding your neighborhood. He cleared his throat and gestured towards his neck, making you aware that he, too, was wearing an identical one, letting you know that you two were going to match.

“They’re so pretty!” You fawned over them, your smile widening at the gift. You looked at the other hand behind his back and squinted your eyes. “What do you have in your other hand?”

“I was going to take you out to eat first on a little date,” he chuckled before his eyes turned to glare at Jimin, “but someone here offered to be picked up to see his girlfriend. Even though the party is hosted by him!”

He yelled the last few words over his shoulder, obviously wanting Jimin to know he was talking about him.

“Shut up, asshole!” The man yelled back.

You and Nali glanced at each other. Of course, as best friends, your boyfriends would bicker. It was exactly how you two would get along, too.

“Anyway,” Jungkook sighed, waving him off before continuing to smile at you and showcasing the thing behind his back. “Obviously, you forgot that you wanted a milkshake.”

You gasped, immediately grasping it. “Gimme!”

Jungkook lowly chuckled and watched as you sipped it, relief displaying on your face at coming to feel the coolness settle in your stomach.

“Good?” He questioned you, and you nodded enthusiastically, very happy and excited that he really bought you a milkshake. He dipped his head down, capturing your lips and mumbling words between kisses. “I’m happy you like it. Now turn around for me.”

You did so; his cold hands, having been holding onto the milkshake, placed themselves on your hips to guide you. He tentatively placed the necklace on your neck, his fingers slightly grazing the exposed skin as he made sure the object wasn’t pulling on your hair.

After putting it on, you two made sure that Jimin and Nali were distracted enough so they wouldn’t ruin the intimate moment you two were sharing with one another. Thankfully, they were still holding onto each other, laughing and whispering in each other’s ear.

You and Jungkook gave each other sideways glances, weirded out.

“Are we going to turn out like that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as he went to go stand behind you again. You two mindlessly stared at the couple, scrunching your noses when they shamelessly made out like starving people.

He snorted. “Hopefully not.” He kissed your temple, turning you around while wrapping an arm around your waist as he brought you closer. “But knowing how we both are with one another, we’re going to be exactly like that, and I don’t mind it.”

You slightly giggled at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer. “We’re going to be late.”

“I don’t mind if it means I get to continue kissing you.” A humorous look was etched on his face before his lips met yours as soon as you were about to speak. The affect of his lip ring grazing your lips caused the usual shiver you always get when it does so. You hit his arm, though, once you felt him smiling in the kiss. He chuckled. “Your reaction is cute.”

“Shut up.” You playfully pushed him away from you, his hand gripping your arm to bring you closer again. You smiled up at him before turning to look at the other two, who were now laughing very loudly. “Are you two done?”

“Yep.” Nali sheepishly grinned at you. She glanced between you and Jungkook, wiggling her brows. “Are you two done making out?”

“I-” You pursed your lips and squinted at her. “Get in the car, you big dummies.”

The three laughed at your words but they got in. You sat on the passenger seat, the other two sat on the back, and Jungkook was on the driver’s seat, making sure you were wearing your seatbelt.

Nali and Jimin continued to make out, and you and Jungkook grimaced at hearing them kiss. The man quickly gave you his phone in hopes you could find a song—any song—that would help drown out the sounds.

“Also,” you spoke, your thumb hovering over your choice of song, “why did you make Jimin sit in the back?”

Jimin scoffed as he separated from Nali. “Your boyfriend here made me sit in the back because he said the passenger seat was just for you.”

“I don’t want you as my passenger princess,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, driving off from the parking lot of your home, his hand immediately meeting yours.

“Okay, but what if I wanted to be one?” Jimin continued to ask. “What if I also like to be spoiled, hmm?”

“Jimin, shut up.” Jungkook glanced at him through his rear view mirror, glaring at him. Jimin could only wave him off, paying attention to Nali again. Jungkook looked at you. “Can you believe him?”

“I can totally see Jimin as a passenger princess,” you hummed, imagining a perfect picture of Jimin. Jungkook hummed along with you, also painting that picture in his head. You two shivered. “Never mind.”

“Stop thinking about me, you weirdos.”

It wasn’t long before you all arrived at Jimin’s home. It still came as a shock to every one of you—except Jimin, of course—once you remembered that Jimin, along with Taehyung, had money. The mansion (clearly not his, as he had stated before that he lived in a penthouse) was now overcome with colors and bodies coming in and out of the house, red cups being sorted on their hands.

Your hand was intertwined with Jungkook’s as soon as you all got out of the car, twirling around the anxiety ring he had bought for you since you liked twirling his other rings even though they did not twirl.

You looked around. “I forgot you’re rich as hell.”

“I forgot, too.” Jungkook shook his head, almost as if he were dazed at the sight in front of him, and you wouldn’t have blamed him if he was. You were too entranced by the house to even hear Jimin’s words.

“I want to go in every room and jump in the bed.”

The trio laughed at your words, and it wasn’t long before Jimin and Nali left to go inside, leaving you and Jungkook outside to enjoy each other’s company.

“So,” he glanced at you, eyes withholding amusement as you scrunched your nose at a person coming to throw up in the beautiful garden, “stay by my side and hold my hand, please?”

You smiled and nodded, doing so. “As long as you don’t leave me, either. Don’t lose me in the crowd, and don’t let Taehyung talk to me.”

He snorted, his hands meeting your waist again as if they were magnets. “I won’t let him do that. I’ll beat the shit out of him if I have to, okay?”

“For me?” You looked at him through your lashes, and he lightly groaned, placing his forehead on yours as the palm of his inked hand placed itself on the left side of your face.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mumbled, his breath hitting your lips.

“Looking at you like what?” You questioned him, your hand coming to meet the back of his head, your nails running themselves over his scalp, trailing down towards the nape of his neck.

“Looking at me with those eyes,” he answered, softly kissing you as yours, and his eyes closed at the feeling. “You affect me so much, I’ll do anything you ask me to if you simply look at me like that, baby.”

You grinned at your words, and he did, too. You two kissed outside of the shaking house.

“Let’s go inside so we can enjoy tonight,” you muttered against his lips, feeling him nod. You glanced over his shoulder and then down at your dress. “I have to fix my dress, but there are people coming outside.”

“Just fix it; I’ll cover you, okay?” You nodded at his words, smiling a bit shyly as he kissed you again.

He stood in front of you, glaring at whoever looked your way, hands crossed over his chest. Since he had raised his sleeves up so they could rest by his elbows, his tattoos were on full display, intimidating those who looked at him or you. You almost laughed, though, at seeing how serious he was about making sure you were out of people’s eyesight. He was like your personal bodyguard, but one you kissed here and there.

“There,” you smiled at him, watching you over his shoulder to make sure you were okay and to make sure a creep wasn’t trying to stare at you from behind. “I’m pretty sure you scared everyone away, so I’m okay.”

“Good.”

You two walked inside the house, hands intertwined, to showcase your relationship. Half of the girls that Jungkook had hooked up with didn’t hide their distaste for you, but you didn’t care as the other half came to greet you.

Jungkook could simply stand back, smiling as he watched girl’s swoon over you and the way you looked in your dress. He couldn’t help but mentally agree with their compliments.

“Jungkook!” Jungkook turned around to find two familiar faces.

“Hyung!” He exclaimed excitedly, hugging the man. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a year!”

Hoseok chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm, and he shrugged a bit. “I’ve been good! I opened up the dance studio I’ve been talking to you about. I’ve been focusing my time on that.”

“Are you here alone?”

“Yoongi finally agreed to come,” Hoseok answered, gesturing towards the said figure who was talking to Jimin and Nali. “You know the dude is an old man at heart. I had to tell him about you and the girl, and then did he want to see for himself.”

“He’s so nosy, he literally saw her when he was working at Moon 7,” Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head at the revelation. He glanced at you. “I would introduce you to my girl, but her friends are keeping her busy.”

Hoseok looked at where you stood, and you were in fact being kept busy. The girls seemed to be talking to you about something, and they all listened intently to every word you spilled. He eyed Jungkook’s starstruck expression and patted him on the shoulder.

“You did good, kid,” he smiled. “Yoongi and I were afraid you’d get a girl pregnant or just end up doing something stupid.”

Jungkook snorted. “I wouldn’t stoop that low, you know that.” He looked at you once more and saw that you had gestured towards him. “But, I did do something stupid.”

“Whatever you did,” Hoseok started, “I’m sure it will all get resolved. Except cheating, then you’re by yourself there, bud.”

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook snorted before his palm met Hoseok’s face, pushing him away. “Go away. She’s coming here.”

“I’ll come back later, you brat, and you better introduce me then. Got it?”

“Yes, hyung, now go,” Jungkook pushed him away by his shoulders, dragging out the last word until Hoseok was out of eye shot. You came towards him and smiled confusedly, staring at the figure who had previously been seen with him. “Hey, sorry, that was my old friend, Hobi. I was going to introduce him but, he needed to meet another friend.”

“Aw, I would’ve loved to say hi,” you admitted, frowning before staring back at him, hands holding his. “So, are we going to eat?”

“Baby, there’s alcohol and you want to eat?” He questioned in a surprise manner, though, it wasn’t meant in a mean way. You nodded with a small smile on your face, your stomach grumbling. He chuckled. “Come on. Let’s go see what we can find. If we can’t find anything, we’ll get out of here and go eat, okay?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

He shook his head, eyes slightly closing while he pursed his lips. “No. Being with you is much more important than just hanging out in a place where I could barely hear you.”

“You just want to get out of here,” you teased and he grinned, nodding.

“Let’s go find you some food.”

You two walked off and pushed through the body of college students who blocked your pathway. You even came across your sister and her boyfriend who now noticed you and Jungkook.

You briefly waved at them and they waved back, and with one last glance, you turned to look at the man in front of you, his eyes darting around the room.

He hummed to himself as he came to find the kitchen and he turned to look back at you, noting the way your eyes lit up at the fancy snacks. A crowd of people stood near you two, drinking, their conversation going through one ear to another as you ate here and there. Jungkook ate with you.

“Their conversation is very intense,” he whispered and you, being just as nosy as him, nodded in full agreement.

As you listened, he caught you in surprise when he wrapped an arm around your torso and lifted you so you could sit on the kitchen island. He immediately stood in between your legs, hands holding, while you continued to listen.

You softly gasped in his ear. “He cheated on her with her own brother!”

“That is so low,” he lowly whistled, shaking his head. “Impressive and good for him for coming out but, with his girlfriend’s brother? And, while in a relationship ? That has got to hurt.”

“Wow, I’m still in shock.”

“I’m more in shock in the fact that we are that couple,” Jungkook snickered, starting to pepper your neck with kisses. “I wouldn’t want to be nosy with no one else other than you.”

“Mhm, you better.”

You two relished in being in each other’s arms, ignoring everything in the background. It seemed surreal to both of you that not so long you didn’t even know of each other’s existence, of the other’s presence, but now here you were, totally and utterly in love with him just like he was with you.

He bit his lower lip and with his head placed in your shoulder, he lightly gripped your waist before his hands traveled to rub your thighs up and down. He brought you even closer to him. “You really look beautiful by the way.”

“We look like we’re going to a funeral,” you tantalized him in a soft tone, to give him the idea you were playing around. Your own hands went to hold onto his biceps. “I love it, though.”

“I’m just happy you came with me,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “Though,” he muttered against your lips, “a simple little date where we stay home and watch movies sounds so good.”

“Those boots are going to kill you since they have a small heel,” you commented, glancing at his boots. He clicked his tongue and shrugged, slightly swaying you two to the beat of the music you noticed playing. “I don’t know, it makes you look very attractive. Even more attractive.”

“Mhm, yeah, correct yourself,” he lightly pinched the skin of your waist, nudging his nose with yours. “You shouldn’t be talking when you look so gorgeous. So beautiful.”

“Keep complimenting me and I’ll assume you’ll get on your knees for me.”

“I mean,” he dragged out the words, leaning back a bit before he started to lean down. Your mouth opened a bit and you immediately swatted his arm, urging him to stand up. He laughed, doing so. “Hey, I’m just trying to basically worship you and the ground you’re walking on.”

You tried hiding the fact that his words affected you, your body feeling warmth and sudden nervousness out of nowhere. You avoided eye contact.

“Shut up.”

You two continued slight swaying compared to how the others danced, foreheads leaning against one another as you two continued finding the comfort of the other’s presence.

As he felt you slightly fidgeting due to the fact that your butt was slightly starting to hurt, he picked you up again, and let you place your feet on the ground.

It wasn’t long before the song on the playlist—most likely Jimin’s playlist—finished bouncing off the walls, the chattering and adrenaline of every person there finally felt. A happy smile found its way to your lips as you felt Jungkook keep his hands glued to your waist, not daring to let you go. But, he watched your facial expression morph into one of shock and surprise when a new song started playing, one you knew too well. And he did, too.

“I-” You could muster to let out. “Why is my favorite song playing?”

“I called in a favor!” Jungkook now yelled over the loud music. He gestured towards your dear friend’s figure who was dancing along with Jimin’s. “She told Jimin to add it to the list for you after we talked and wanted to make this the best experience for you.”

“Thank you,” you breathed out, wrapping your arms around his neck to show how much it meant to you. He smiled and hugged you back, arms wrapping themselves tightly around your waist and bringing you closer to him again.

As you two swayed to the music, his lips were close to your ear. “I hope you’re enjoying this!”

“I am,” you said, feeling bad at having to yell in his ear because of the loud music. “Though, I don’t think us swaying to this type of music is appropriate since it’s very up-beat!”

“I think us being this close is perfectly fine,” he chuckled, staring down at you. You glanced at his lips, his tongue running itself over his lip ring. “Unless you think I have cooties and want to get away from me.”

He took his hands away from your waist, chuckling again when you whined that he needed to put them back. So he did, arms wrapping themselves back in their place around your waist while the side of his face was slightly lean against your head.

“You know,” he started, keeping you close to him, “I… I wasn’t sleeping around with half of these girls or having to take care of a girl I got pregnant.” You two laughed at the rumor that was spread. “I wasn’t skipping classes, too, because I was out doing drugs. My dad was struggling with paying bills and so I started to help, I was working. I was dealing with it well because of the counselor’s help, though, she’s a bit weird.”

“Ah, yes, she is,” a breathy chuckle escaped your lips at his words as your head rose up to look at him. “But, does it not bother you how they spread these false rumors?”

“I never cared,” Jungkook replied, shrugging. “I know the truth and my family knows the truth. As long as those close to me never believe them, I don’t entirely care about those who don’t know me and believe the rumors.”

A ghost of a smile spread on your lips. “I believe that, too.”

You two grinned at one another, but as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, your date was now being led away by Taehyung. You frowned and stood not so far from them, glancing at Nali who started to slow down her dance movements as soon as she saw Taehyung with Jungkook.

“Hey,” Taehyung scoffed. “What’s Hanni doing here with that asshead?” Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed as he listened to him. “I didn’t pay you to take out Y/n so some little punk could take out Hanni.”

You froze in your steps at coming to hear those words, eyes meeting those of Jungkook’s who looked over Taehyung’s frame to look at you. His lips were parted, unsaid words not daring to cross them. His chest painfully twisted as soon as he saw your eyes glaze under the lights of the room, knowing fully well that it’s because of him.

“I was just a bet…?” You questioned, a frown now etched on your face.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t. For the first time, he has nothing to say, and it hurts you even more. “Y/n, it doesn’t…”

You shook your head, a sigh escaping your lips. You simply walked away, pushing past the couples who now seemed like they were laughing straight at your face, embarrassment flooding your body and feelings. You heard Jungkook right behind you, your name being shouted out through the loud music. But now, you don’t want to hear a single thing coming out of the lips you enjoyed kissing and eyeing. Not a single word.

Your amazing best friend, Nali, watches your departed figure with Jungkook chasing after you. She frowned and she looked at Jimin who also noticed. He walked towards Yujun, his brother talking to someone while he waited for Hanni to come back from the restroom, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Jimin finally caught his attention, gesturing towards your retreating figures and towards Taehyung, “shit has happened.”

Yujun glared at Taehyung’s own figure because although everything started so he could date Hanni, it wasn’t fair for Taehyung to go and hurt people.

“Yujun, don’t do anything stupid,” Nali called out, sighing as she knew her words fell to deaf ears. She and Jimin followed after his brother, hearing him call after Taehyung. They glanced at one another, knowing it wasn’t going to end well and someone would end up hurt. They knew that Yujun was most likely going to end up hurt.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yujun eyed Taehyung as soon as the man turned to look at him.

“No, what the hell is wrong with you?” Taehyung pushed him, Yujun continuing to glare at the man, standing his ground. “You’re gonna pay. You and that bitch.”

“Just say you’re a jealous little shit,” Yujun spat out, pushing him back with the same force Taehyung had used.

Taehyung let out a sarcastic chuckle before he raised his fist, punching Yujun. The boy groaned, landing on his older brother who grabbed him to make sure he wasn’t entirely hurt, bleeding—he was indeed bleeding—or had something broken.

“Get up, you were all talk just now, get up!” Taehyung went to take a step forward to the boy leaning against his brother, but a tap on his shoulder made him turn, eyes glaring at the girl he was insulting not so long ago. “What?”

But before he could receive a proper answer, Hanni punched him straight in the nose, a grunt escaping his lips as soon as he felt the pain traveling around his face.

“Hanni, don’t,” Nali tried preventing the girl from being harmed, knowing full well that you would have her ass if you watched her sister in the hands of danger.

“No, he hurt my sister,” Hanni pushed her arm away from her sister’s friend’s grip. “You made my date bleed. I know you tried hurting me, but you’re just an egotistical piece of shit.”

Hanni watched him fall on the ground on his knees, clutching his nose. Everyone who had surrounded them all seemed to disperse, getting back to dancing while some girls and boys went to help Taehyung.

“Are you okay?” Hanni immediately headed towards Yujun who nodded his head, wrapping his arms around her. He brought her closer to his body, just thankful she wasn’t hurt in any way. Though, when he exhaled through his mouth, his breath hit the wound now on his lip.

“Go with Nali and make sure your sister is okay,” Yujun breathed out. Hanni frowned at him, already moving, but she still wanted to make sure he was okay. “I’m okay. Go.”

Hanni and Nali wouldn’t be able to do much as you kept running away from Jungkook who was still following after you, apologies spilling out of his mouth.

“Please, just give me a chance to—”

“You were paid to take me out not just by a random guy, but by the one person I truly hate,” you said, your frown deepening as you fully processed everything, memories now running through your mind. “I believed you, Jungkook. I truly believed you wanted me.”

His parted lips were twitching, wanting to yell at you that he thought of you from the moment he woke up to the moment he would go to sleep. Then, would he dream of you and him and what you two could’ve been in the future. He was infatuated with you. “Y/n, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me how it was like,” you breathed out and he watched the way your facial expression morphed into one of hurt. “I fell for you. Hard. You’re someone everyone wants and despite everything, I was happy I got you, but everything was just a lie and it hurts. It hurts knowing that you started to talk to me because you got paid to do so and it hurts knowing you stayed, getting me to open up to you, to be vulnerable in front of you. Were you going to get a bonus because you slept with me?”

“No, no!” Jungkook shook his head. “I didn’t care about the money. I cared about you! I started caring for you.“

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jungkook. It doesn’t excuse the fact that you used me,” your chest was heaving up and down as you tried to calm down your breathing. It hurt you, so much, and there was a pang of pain that traveled down your throat to your chest. Your lips slightly quivered as you shook your head. “I thought you loved me.“

“Baby, I do,” he tried reaching for you but you took a step back. You shook your head, waving him off as you didn’t dare meet his eyes, not wanting to see every moment you spent with him, laughing and crying, flash in front of them. You didn’t want to see the good memories that made you fall for him inside the eyes that withheld the guilt of using you to get money. “I do. I love you. I-I just…“

You looked at his face as he shut his eyes tightly, brain looking for the right words. His hand was already pinching the skin of his forehead, rings glistening under the lights much like your eyes were.

You sighed and he looked at you.

“If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have continued taking that money,” you breathed out before pointing at his chest, “you wouldn’t have hurt me like this.” You let out a shaky breath and gulped, stepping away. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

His hand immediately went to reach for you, but you continued taking steps back. “Y/n—”

“Just tell me something,” you said, meeting his gaze. He couldn’t bear look at your crestfallen look, one he knew he caused because of his stupid actions. “Did you mean anything you said? All those days we hung out together and we talked and we talked?”

But although he wanted to yell so loud “yes”, he knew that you wouldn’t take that as an answer and you wouldn’t listen to him. He was wrong, though, because you wanted to hear confirmation that at least everything you spoke about was real, that everything you spoke about came from him and not the money talking.

He didn’t speak, so you scoffed a little and turned around. “You promised not to hurt me, Jungkook.” You dropped your arms to your side. “Do not try to talk to me.”

His parted lips let out a shaky breath, chest tightening in pain at your words and retreating figure. He should follow after you. He should. But he was frozen, shoes glued to the floor and words getting stuck in his throat.

He hit the railing of the stairs he was standing by, palm stinging at the contact. He let out a deep sigh as his hands clutched the metal, continuing to stare at the back of your head with unsaid words not daring to leave his mouth.

He turned around to rest his back against a wall, fingers now pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the way his eyes stung with tears, blinking them away almost immediately when he heard footsteps heading his way.

“Hey,” he looked up and came to find Jimin and Yujun, their dates having followed after you, leaving them to find one another. “We’re sorry at how things went.”

Jungkook tried to muster up courage to smile at them reassuringly, but much like his feet, his lips stayed in place and he didn’t dare try to move them.

“It was going to happen eventually,” he muttered, tongue running itself over his lips starting to dry from the amount of breaths he was letting in. “I couldn’t have hidden it from her even if I tried.”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t have been revealed that way,” Jimin said, receiving a nod of agreement from Yujun.

Jungkook looked down at his hand, running his fingers over the tattoos on it, feeling the slight trace of your fingers over them.

“She had the right to know,” he looked at them and he could only look away once he saw their pitiful expressions. “It just should’ve been exposed in a less crowded place and not now… in front of everyone.”

“Did you really love her?” Jimin questioned, his voice above a whisper. Jungkook sighed.

“Everything about her,” he muttered, gulping his feelings away to get rid of the lump in his throat. The two men went to stand by her. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“With a broken nose,” Yujun chuckled, humor laced in his voice. Jungkook hummed in satisfaction at the answer. “Hanni punched him.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to chuckle. “Where is he, though?”

“I’m pretty sure he has enough injuries, Jungkook,” Jimin said, eyebrows raised at the boy while his hand placed itself on his firm chest—he felt— as he tried to leave. “Let’s just go, okay? You don’t need him suing you for hitting him.”

“I’ll handle it,” Jungkook hummed, walking past the two and heading towards the room with loud music playing. He looked around and spotted Taehyung almost immediately through the crowd forming around him. He bumped against people, pushing through all of them before grabbing the boy by the back of his neck. “Come on.”

“Listen, man, your girl’s stupid sister already dealt with me,” Taehyung tried to get away from his grip but Jungkook rolled his eyes, ignoring his words. “This is harassment. I will sue you.”

“Do it but I’ll still beat the shit out of you,” Jungkook hummed, glancing at him. Jimin and Yujun sped towards the two as soon as Jungkook push Taehyung against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” Taehyung smirked, though he looked silly since he had tissue paper stuck on his nose to prevent the bleeding. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Why did you need to embarrass Y/n like that?” Jungkook gave him an expressionless look, eyebrows slightly raised as his hand still held onto the boy’s collar. “You could’ve told me later.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes, the ones who always looked around curiously and always used to make you wither in your seat out of nerves, now glared daggers into Taehyung’s face.

“You just didn’t want to tell her you got paid to take her out,” Taehyung said as he shrugged, clearly smug about how Jungkook was acting. “And hey, if I wasn’t going to have what I wanted, you weren’t going to get what you wanted either.”

The latter groaned, though, when Jungkook landed a punch on his stomach, air being taken out of his body. He landed in the floor, continuing to groan, as Jungkook scoffed at his figure, turning around to leave.

He glanced at the Park brothers and sighed.

“He deserved it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hanni asked as she stood in front of your seated figure on the stairs of the front of your house. “You’ll have fun with me and Yujun.”

“I’m okay,” you said, trying your hardest to reassure her with a smile. But the smile didn’t reach your eyes and it alerted her of your pain. Of course, you were still in pain. Everything that had happened, happened yesterday. “Enjoy your time at the carnival, okay?”

“We will.”

Yujun curtly waved at you as soon as he arrived to pick up your sister, and you did the same back. He and Hanni walked away, leaving you to stare down at your hands.

“So,” you looked up at coming to hear someone speak. You tightly smiled as you saw your mom, looking away to glance at the scenery in front of you, “where’s your sister going?”

“She’s going to go meet up with some bikers, big ones, full of sperm,” you sarcastically responded, watching her face morph into one of disgust. You snickered at her reaction. “She’s just going out with Yujun.”

“You’re very funny,” your mom snorted, shaking her head as she came to sit next to you. She watched as you stared down at your hands, eyes puffy from all the crying you have done. She nudged her shoulder against yours. “I’m guessing the party didn’t end well?”

“It just wasn’t what I was expecting,” you sadly smiled at her, trying your hardest to showcase you were okay.

“What happened?”

“The guy I was seeing just wasn’t the type of guy I thought he was,” you breathed out, pursing your lips. “He was so nice to me. Very. He made me feel… complete in a way.”

“I was always afraid of this,” your mom sighed, her shoulders dropping as she propped her legs towards her chest. “I was strict on things like this because I didn’t want you to go through whatever pain you’re going through right now.” You didn’t respond and your mom looked off. “I know it wasn’t easy when your dad left. Especially for you.”

“It wasn’t,” you admitted, shaking your head.

“I knew I failed as a mother when I saw you acting more like an adult than me.” You eyed her actions, noticing that admitting what she said wasn’t easy for her. “You were just 14 and here you were making sure I was ready for work while you got yourself and Hanni ready for school. You didn’t have to bear the burden of your father leaving.”

“I knew that it hurt you even more as much as it hurt us,” you muttered, frowning at the memories of you even having to cook so Hanni wouldn’t starve.

“I had lost him after I loved him for 20 years,” your mom shrugged as if it was nothing. “I was just wondering what I did wrong that made him leave.”

“You didn’t do anything. Dad just wasn’t… him anymore and yes, he left, but it’s important for us to move on from his stupid actions.”

“And what stupid actions did he do to you?” Your mom raised an eyebrow, her emphasis on the word “he” suggesting she was talking about Jungkook.

“I’m guessing Hanni mentioned to someone about your rule,” you breathed out, rolling your eyes at your sister’s actions. “Well, that person told the guy I was seeing and paid him to take me out, hence why he started seeing me in the first place.”

“Did you love him?”

“So much,” you snorted as if those words were the funniest thing ever. But you could only blink away the tears that threatened to spill again. “Why do boys suck?”

Your mom looked at you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, placing her head on top of yours. “I don’t know, honey. But I’m here if you need anything. If you get with him or not, it’s not my business. I’ll just be here for you.”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you.”

“Y/n!”

You looked up from your book, a gasp immediately escaping your lips once you came to see a figure walking your way. He was jogging towards you and you packed up your things, cursing yourself for even thinking of journaling and reading outside your home.

You heard the sound of a horn, Jungkook cursing at the driver before his footsteps were heard behind you. You sped up.

“Leave me alone, Jungkook,” you pleaded, short pants leaving your mouth when you tried hurrying to your door.

“I love you,” Jungkook loudly said, making you stop in your footsteps. “I’m not going to stop until you listen to me, okay? I’m not going to stop chasing after you, but if you actually want me to leave you alone, tell me right now, please.”

You glanced at him with furrowed brows before a sigh came out of you. You cleared your throat. “I’m not going to ask you to stop, but don’t think it will be easy for me go forgive you. You hurt me and you need to understand that.”

“So, can I like, bother you every day?” You gave him a deadpan expression and he sheepishly smiled, scratching the back of his head. “Not every day, got it.”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stuck to his word. So far, he has been chasing you. Well, not chasing you, but he does show up when you get out of the house. You always sat in the front by the porch and he always unexpectedly shows up. You already had an idea that Hanni and Yujun would let him know considering the fact that whenever Yujun was over—you would pop out of the house to not hear the couple kiss—he would show up.

Jungkook didn’t give up. He would apologize on the days you were out, on some days, though, he would just drop a letter and a flower in front of you and leave. You would open them and read them, feeling your heart hammer against your chest at the words. For example, one said, “I yearn for the warmth and the comfort of your words that made me feel safe. I won’t stop begging for forgiveness for something idiotic I allowed to happen. Even if it takes years.” Safe to say, you made sure to open them in your room so he won’t be able to see how his words impacted you.

It was Saturday and you were in bed, eyeing the flowers he had given you that you placed in a small vase your mom bought. Some were drying up while the new ones he had given you brightened up even under the lights of your room.

This wasn’t your first relationship. But this was the first relationship that allowed you an insight of being loved properly in a way. Yes, Jungkook started off lying about everything, but through it all he spoiled you with words and sometimes gifts, expensive or handmade. You still had the necklace he gifted you around your neck and the pendant was between your fingers, being played with unconsciously.

“Hey,” you lifted your head and eyed Hanni, who was dressed up. “I’m going out. Mom is working late again and she said to let you know.”

“Alright, be safe,” you smiled a bit, waving at her retreating figure as she yelled some words over her shoulder that you couldn’t make of since she had already closed the door.

You were left alone and you sighed, again, dropping your head back on your pillows as you cursed the silence you were left surrounded with.

You were going to head to sleep after a couple of minutes and you were already being lulled to sleep by the scenarios made up in your head. Though, knocking snapped you out of your thoughts and it alerted you, making you frown at the sound and look around confusedly.

You were taken aback, though, once you saw a figure by your balcony, knocking, and you knew who it was. You taught him that rhythm he did and you started freaking out, not knowing what to do, so you stood up and rubbed your eyes, making sure you weren’t entirely dreaming.

“Jungkook?” You said out loud and he waved as he heard you. You slowly opened the doors, staring up at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m tired of having you on the tip of my fingertips, knowing I’m losing you every day,” he blurted out in one single breath, his chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline. “I’m fucking sorry for everything. I’m sorry for hurting you, for making stupid decisions, but never, ever, think that every kiss and every deep conversation we had was not real because it happened and I loved every moment of it. I loved speaking with you and getting to know a you only I got to know about. I love you and I’m sorry.”

Your breathing and his meshed together and you moved aside to let him in, head dropping to look at the floor (and the clothing you wore). You closed the doors in front of you and turned to look at him, watching him look around before he looked at you, too, his eyes staring intensely into you.

“Why should I trust you now?” You muttered, not daring to look at him, back against the doors you just closed.

“Because I love you,” he went on, at this point trying to beg you to pay attention to him. He would stand in front of you as soon as you would move to the side, trying to walk away towards your bed. He continued blocking your path, though. “I didn’t lie about that. I didn’t lie about every kiss given to you, every conversation with you. I fell for you and I fell in love with you.”

“You accepted money, Jungkook,” you breathed out, a sigh escaping your lips while your arms flailed around rather dramatically. Jungkook pursed his lips, not wanting the chuckle to escape them as he found your antics amusing. “Now, I don’t want to speak to you because you make me nervous.”

Jungkook followed after you, again, standing in front of you, his hands now clutching the sides of your head. He leaned in and kissed you, lip ring slightly bumping into your lower lip, receiving slight goosebumps from the sudden coldness you gained from it.

“Shut up, let me talk,” he breathed as he pulled away, forehead placed on yours while his breath fanned over your lips. “I’m fucking sorry. For everything.”

You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to fall for it. You didn’t want to look like an idiot if you accepted his apology, not knowing if he was receiving money just by apologizing to you.

“Are you getting paid?” You asked and he shook his head. “After all that, why don’t you leave me alone? Genuinely?”

Jungkook just scoffed. “I’m not letting you go. Not again. I’m not fucking up the good thing that has come to my life after everything.”

“You messed up,” you commented, not daring to look into his eyes just like last time you two spoke. “I don’t have to speak to you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” he scoffed and you looked at the matching necklace adorning his neck instead, his sweater hiding the skin exposed because of the white tank top he wore. You could only eye his chest, not wanting to meet his gaze. You didn’t have much of a choice when he lifted your chin with his inked hand, though, continuing to hold your head in place so you wouldn’t go back to avoiding his eyes. “I want you to look at me when I’m apologizing to you, okay? That’s all I want.”

You looked at him and he looked at you, lips parted as if words were about to spew from them. You nodded.

“Okay…”

“When this all started,” Jungkook began, hands now moving to grab your own, “I didn’t even know who you and your sister were. Taehyung came to me, told me he’d pay me if I made you fall for me so we could eventually start dating. He said it would be easier to take out your sister if you were dating because… someone had told him about your mom setting a new rule that stated Hanni would be able to date if you did.”

“Oh, God,” you breathed out, your fingertips holding onto your forehead as you closed your eyes. “Hanni must’ve told someone.”

“After all that, I didn’t think I’d fall for you,” Jungkook continued, his doe eyes doing all its pleading. “I didn’t think I would be so obsessed with you and in love with you that I can’t help but think of you when love songs play in the radio. I can’t help but think of you so I could fall asleep. I love you, Y/n. I have.”

“Then why did you continue accepting the money he gave you?” You frowned upon at him, eyes now glazing with tears. “It wasn’t right for you to continue accepting it. You gave Taehyung the idea you were still in on it.”

“I only got the money to use it and take you out with it,” Jungkook went on, his eyes running themselves over your face, thumbs now rubbing your hands. “I… I have a job but I waste my money helping my parents pay rent. I thought I would be able to impress you if I had that money. That’s why I continued taking it. I had the right idea but it was shitty how I benefited from it and Taehyung, too.”

“I don’t care if you have money or not, Jungkook,” you breathed out, staring up at him. You let out a curt sigh. “Without it, when it was just me and you at my house, talking, I learned so much from you and we formed a connection. Me and you. I’m fine just being with you because you’re all I need.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to deal with someone like me,” Jungkook softly groaned out, pinching the bridge of his nose with two of his fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for using you, hurting you, and basically causing trust issues. I fell for you. I did. At the end of the day, it was just you and me. I’m in love with you and I’m sorry for making you hate me.”

“I was so mad at you,” you muttered, looking away as you tightly shut your eyes, keeping the tears in. “I was so mad that I hated you. You and the stupid way you talked to me and how you kept your hair like that because I liked playing with it.” He continued watching as you went on, a frown etched on your face. “Or how you would drive my car and drive with one hand because Hanni told you I found it attractive. I hated it even more when you would stare at me with those big, dummy eyes that I started to adore.”

“Or, or, the way your big combat boots made you taller than me and that way you knew so you continued to wear them,” you ignored the way he looked at you as he listened intently to every word you let out, “or how you would always know what I was thinking even when I tried to hide anything that would tell you. I hated it when you were always right, never sugarcoating anything, but I hated the fact that despite being right, you lied.”

He let out a small, sad sigh at your revelation, fingers intertwining with the strands of hair on the back of your head. He slightly raised your head, making you look at him again as he watched your chest heave and up down, knowing fully well you were going to start crying. And he was right, your eyes were glazing with unshed tears that were threatening to escape as soon as you blinked.

“I hated the fact that you could make me laugh without trying, even when I didn’t feel like doing so,” you continued and Jungkook’s thumb rubbed your quivering chin, your bottom lip jutted out as tears slid down your face. He wiped the tears away without hesitation, kissing your forehead as he continued to let you take it all out, “but I hate that you can make me cry just as easily. I hated not having you around and even when you didn’t call or visited me to explain what happened in the beginning. But… I hate that I can’t hate you, you dummy, and I don’t hate you. Not even one bit.”

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook sighed, his eyebrows now furrowing as he brought your head to his chest, a hand placed behind it while the other was wrapped around your body, holding you close. Your sniffles were heard and he brought you closer if that was possible. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry. Everything that I did, I did it because I loved you. The money… that was the most stupidest thing I have done and it was fucked up.”

“I want to continue doing all of that with you,” he said, pulling your head away so he could rest his forehead against yours, again. “To drive with one hand because I know you’re staring, wear my boots so I could be even taller than you, and continue reading your mind because I can tell when you’re trying to hide things from me.” He softly chuckled as he remembered your facial expressions. The cute ones that you tried to hide. You could never try to hide them from him. He’ll know. “I love you. I genuinely do. But, if you don’t forgive me, I will wait until you’re ready even if takes years. I’ll be fine with whatever decision you make, okay?”

“Do you really love me?” You breathed out, lips slightly brushing against one another. He nodded.

“I love you, more than anything,” he mumbled in a low voice, his lip ring nudging your lips as he wanted to kiss you. “I know what I have done isn’t excusable, but I will show you that I genuinely fell for you because of you and not because of money.”

“I forgive you,” you softly smiled at him, your own hands traveling towards the sides of his face while his own went to rest on your waist. “I want you to show me more of you, okay? I want to see that you want me for me.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he grinned, fingers slightly gripping the flesh of your waist, faint prints being left behind in their wake. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Jungkook.”

“Just to be clear, you don’t hate me anymore, right?”

“I’m sure, or else I wouldn’t have told you I loved you. But just so you know, if you hurt me again, I will have my own fans kicking you in the balls and you will take it.”

“I don’t know if I should be scared or very attracted to how scary you can sound.”

BONUS

“Jungkook you literally didn’t have to buy a new phone!”

You and Jungkook were at the store and he was currently purchasing a new phone in order to show you he was committed to you and only you. After all, he just had random numbers in his old phone so he wasn’t losing anything major.

“Yes, I do,” he snickered, watching the employee do his work. “I’m officially committed to you. I don’t need to be having a phone number that girls from my past know about when you should be the only one to know it.”

You smiled at his words and his actions and slightly leaned onto his towering figure. His arm swiftly moved to rest around your waist and he was talking here and there with the employee who had asked him about his tattoos.

You looked around and you stopped midway from letting your gaze travel any sooner when a girl was looking at Jungkook.

You softly cleared your throat, starting to get uncomfortable and wished for this entire process to go by fast.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He whispered in your ear and you looked at him, giving him a fake smile so he couldn’t worry.

“Nothing.”

He gently gave you a pointed look. “I can feel you fidgeting and you’re quieter than usual. At this point, you would be telling me all about your new book.”

“There’s this girl staring at you and glaring at me,” you muttered, pretending to look around so you could see if she was still there. She was.

Jungkook groaned and turned around, head snapping back to look at her and glared at her like she was doing to you.

“I seriously wish that you don’t let girls like that look at you that way,” your boyfriend hummed, watching her scurry away. “Punch ‘em and I’ll take the blame if you get caught.”

“No, Jungkook.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

hybrid biology

f!reader x yunho x san x yunho

smut | mdni

4.6k

Y/N adopts three hybrids—Jongho (a bear), San (a cat), and Yunho (a dog). One night, they request to suck on her breasts to help them sleep, citing their hybrid biology. Though surprised, Y/N agrees, leading to an intense and intimate encounter that ends in smut with all three hybrids

nsfw tags under

f/m/m/m, 3some, hybrids, oral fixation, breast sucking, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, vaginal sex, soft dom, handjob, oral sex, penetration, praise kink, dirty talk, aftercare, begging, deep throat, hair pulling and moooore

When you woke up that morning with the simple intention to adopt a hybrid, you had no idea you'd leave the shelter with three—Jongho, the brown bear, San, the black cat, and Yunho, the golden retriever. Initially, you had imagined adopting just one companion, someone to keep you company, but the moment you met these three, something just clicked.

Jongho had stood stoically by the shelter gate, his brown fur gleaming in the sunlight as his eyes scanned you with quiet curiosity. He hadn’t been overly affectionate or eager to please like the others, but something about his calm presence grounded you. The caretaker had warned you that bear hybrids were more independent and liked their space, but that didn’t dissuade you.

San, on the other hand, was immediately drawn to you. He had padded over with fluid grace, his tail swishing behind him as he flashed you a grin so full of warmth that it melted your heart instantly. His black ears twitched as he circled you, brushing his shoulder against your legs. "You seem nice," he had purred, glancing up at you with gleaming eyes. "I wouldn’t mind going home with you." That statement was sealed with a playful wink that left your cheeks burning.

And then there was Yunho. The shy, golden retriever hybrid had peeked at you from behind the caretaker's leg, his floppy ears nearly hiding his face as his tail wagged nervously. He barely spoke a word at first, and it took you kneeling down to his level and offering your hand for him to even come forward. When he finally did, though, the way his eyes lit up made it clear he was the one who needed you the most.

Against all logic, you couldn’t choose between them. Somehow, all three fit together, balancing each other’s energies in ways that left you intrigued. They complemented each other’s personalities so well, you figured, why not? So you left the shelter with not one, but three hybrids trailing behind you.

Life with them quickly became a whirlwind of discovery. Each day revealed new facets of their personalities. Jongho preferred to lounge around the house, occasionally grumbling when San’s playful antics got in the way of his naps. His deep, rumbling voice made it clear that he was the one to set the pace in the household. “You don’t always have to be so hyper, you know,” he would murmur from his spot on the couch, barely lifting his head to meet San’s mischievous grin.

San, of course, would simply roll his eyes. "You’re such a grump, Jongho! Loosen up a little. She likes it when we play with her." Then he would dart off, his black tail flicking behind him as he padded toward you, demanding cuddles.

Yunho was always the quiet observer, watching the interactions between his friends with wide, thoughtful eyes. He rarely initiated conversation, but you always felt his presence nearby. Whether you were cooking, cleaning, or simply sitting on the couch, you’d feel the soft brush of his golden fur or hear his gentle footsteps approaching. He never asked for anything, but his proximity said it all—he found comfort in being near you.

The day had been good, long but fulfilling. You had shown the boys to their new room, helping them settle in, and they seemed content with their new surroundings. The bond between the four of you was growing, but you hadn’t realized how much until later that night.

Fatigue began to weigh you down, and after a quick goodnight, you excused yourself to your room. "Alright, guys. I’m heading to bed. You can stay up, but don’t forget to turn off the TV when you’re done," you said, giving them a tired smile.

Jongho gave a slow nod from his spot on the floor, where he lay sprawled out comfortably, while San stretched lazily on the couch, tail flicking lazily. Yunho, as usual, hovered in the background, his ears twitching but saying nothing.

Sleep came easily once you curled up under your blanket. But sometime in the dead of night, a soft knock at your door pulled you from the depths of slumber. Groggily, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as your door creaked open. All three hybrids stood there, framed by the dim light from the hallway. Jongho, as usual, was unreadable, his face betraying nothing but his brown ears twitching slightly. San fidgeted, his tail wrapped around his leg as if he was debating whether or not to speak, while Yunho, poor shy Yunho, was hiding half his face behind his floppy ears.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, voice still thick with sleep.

Jongho said nothing, his eyes glancing away as if he wasn’t quite sure how to approach the topic. San was the first to break the awkward silence. “N-No! Not really, but…” He trailed off, shifting nervously on his feet, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” Yunho finally whispered, his voice barely audible as he stared at the floor.

Your brows furrowed in concern, a pit forming in your stomach. What was going on? Had you done something wrong? Were they unhappy? “What is it?” you asked again, your voice soft but firm, not wanting to pressure them but needing answers.

Silence followed, the weight of it pressing down on you as the boys exchanged awkward glances. Jongho, who normally radiated confidence, was uncharacteristically still. His tail, which usually swayed lazily behind him, had stopped entirely, and his eyes were glued to the ground. He looked like a statue except for his twitching ears. Yunho was practically cowering behind him, and you could see San’s tail swishing nervously.

“Oh my God, just say it,” San finally muttered under his breath, looking frustrated with the stalemate. He took a deep breath, his cheeks flushing slightly as he forced the words out. “We need your help… to fall asleep.”

Your brain stalled for a moment. That was it? You had been expecting something much worse, given how tense the air had felt. “That’s it?” You chuckled softly, relieved that it wasn’t something more serious. “Okay, how can I help?”

But your question seemed to make things worse. Jongho rolled his eyes, and Yunho looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. San, however, continued, his words fumbling awkwardly, “W-We need to…”

“S-Suck on y-your…” Jongho continued, still unable to meet your eyes.

“Your boobs,” San finished, sounding almost bored with the situation, though the flush of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. His eyes darted away as he scratched behind one ear nervously.

“You what?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Your voice was a higher pitch than normal, and your eyes widened in shock. Surely, they were joking, right?

San’s shoulders slumped as your stunned reaction lingered. He mumbled, “Told you she’d freak out…”

Yunho, who had been silent for most of the interaction, shifted uncomfortably, pulling at his ears out of nervousness. “I knew it,” he muttered softly. “I told you she wouldn’t like it.”

“Wait.” You blinked, finally coming to your senses as they turned to leave the room. Curiosity now mixed with confusion. “Can you explain what you mean?”

The three hybrids exchanged surprised glances, clearly not expecting your willingness to listen. After a moment, Jongho sighed, taking the lead with a straightforward explanation. “Our biology is… different from humans. For some reason, we need to suck on…” he gestured vaguely toward your chest, avoiding eye contact again. “Tits. It helps us sleep. We don’t understand it either, so don’t ask. It’s just how we’re wired.”

The more you listened, the more bizarre it seemed, but part of you couldn’t ignore that it made a strange kind of sense. Jongho had tried to nap several times throughout the day but had seemed restless, tossing and turning. San had been unusually clingy, more than usual, while Yunho… well, he had always hovered, but it seemed more intense lately.

You would have to admit, they were all incredibly attractive, and the thought of being intimate with them sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if you were ready to be vulnerable with them like this, especially since you hadn’t known them for very long.

Yunho’s soft voice broke the silence again. “You don’t have to do anything. We’ll figure something else out.”

“Sorry to bother—” San started, but you interrupted him, surprising even yourself.

“I’ll do it.”

All three hybrids looked utterly flabbergasted, their eyes wide as they processed what you’d just said.

“Really?” San asked, voice filled with disbelief.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest. You had made your decision. “Really.” With a small movement, you pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest to them.

For a moment, none of them moved, their eyes locked onto your exposed skin as if they couldn’t believe it. Then, with barely contained excitement, San and Yunho practically shoved each other, both eager to be the first to reach you. Jongho hung back, watching with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place.

San was the first to touch you, his warm hands cupping your breasts gently, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned in closer. His usually playful demeanor had softened, replaced by a kind of reverence that caught you off guard. "You're really okay with this?" he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain. His fingers brushed across your skin, sending a shiver through you.

You nodded, your breath hitching. "I am. Just… go slow."

San’s lips quirked into a small, relieved smile. “Of course.”

Yunho, who had been lingering in the background, hesitated before moving forward. His eyes were filled with nervousness, but there was something deeper—longing, maybe? He knelt beside you, his large golden ears twitching as he leaned closer. His hand trembled slightly as he touched your other breast, his touch featherlight, almost as if he was afraid to hurt you.

"Is this okay?" Yunho whispered, his eyes darting up to meet yours, wide and innocent.

You gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Yunho. You're doing great."

Jongho, meanwhile, stood back, watching the scene unfold with his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes flicked between San, Yunho, and you with a hint of something… possessive? You weren’t sure. Finally, with a sigh, he walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, leaning in close. His presence, though not as immediate as the other two, was commanding. He didn’t rush to touch you, instead resting his hand on your thigh, waiting patiently.

“Don’t think we’re letting them have all the fun,” Jongho said quietly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. His thumb rubbed slow circles against your skin, his eyes finally locking with yours.

You felt your pulse quicken at the intensity of his gaze, but before you could respond, San had begun trailing kisses along your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “You taste as good as I imagined,” he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing your neck before moving lower.

At the same time, Yunho’s shy demeanor melted into focus as he mirrored San’s movements, his lips brushing your other breast. His breath was shaky as he parted his lips, finally taking your nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his mouth, combined with his soft, hesitant sucks, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

San was a little more confident, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he took it between his lips. His playful nature was still there, but it was tempered with care as he nipped gently, his eyes flicking up to watch your reactions. “Is this good?” he asked, voice husky as he sucked gently, his ears twitching in satisfaction when he heard you moan.

Your back arched slightly, pressing yourself into their mouths as soft moans escaped your lips. The sensation of their mouths on you, one gentle and unsure, the other teasing and confident, had you reeling. You were acutely aware of every touch, every flick of their tongues, and the tension building low in your belly.

Jongho watched, his expression hard to read, but there was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. He squeezed your thigh lightly, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’re doing good. Just relax.” His voice was a soothing contrast to the intensity building between you and the other two hybrids, and you found yourself sinking deeper into the moment.

San pulled away slightly, his lips glistening as he gave a playful tug on your nipple. “You’re so sensitive. I could do this all night,” he purred, nipping gently before sucking again, harder this time.

Yunho, still a little hesitant, began to follow his lead, his mouth moving more confidently now. He sucked gently, then licked, then sucked again, his ears flicking with every little sound you made. He wasn’t as bold as San, but his focus was intense, like he was determined to make you feel good.

Your moans grew louder, your body reacting to their ministrations as your thighs rubbed together, desperate for friction. The pleasure was building steadily, each flick of their tongues sending sparks of electricity through you. Your head tilted back, eyes closing as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Jongho’s hand slid from your thigh up to your waist, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate circles. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and knowing.

You nodded, unable to form words as San’s lips pulled away, a smirk playing on his face as he watched your reaction. “Of course she does,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. He gave your nipple one last playful nip before sitting back, his eyes dark with desire.

Yunho, however, lingered a little longer, his mouth still latched to your breast, his soft golden ears pressed flat against his head as he sucked gently, his focus entirely on you. His hand, which had been resting on your waist, slid down to your stomach, hesitating just above your waistband.

Jongho finally stood, his presence looming as he moved closer, his hand still resting on your waist as he gently pulled Yunho back. “Let’s not overwhelm her all at once,” he said softly, though there was a clear command in his tone. His eyes met yours, dark and intense. “You ready for more?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The anticipation had your body trembling, and the way Jongho looked at you made your knees weak. “Yes,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

Jongho smiled—a slow, predatory grin—as he guided you to lie back fully on the bed. “Good.”

With careful precision, Jongho climbed onto the bed, his large hands easily lifting your legs over his shoulders as he positioned himself between them. His breath was hot against your thighs as he spread soft kisses along your skin, teasing you, while his fingers lightly traced your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine.

San, now sitting beside you, chuckled as he watched. “Lucky Jongho. He always gets what he wants,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Yunho, still kneeling by the bed, watched with wide eyes, his expression torn between awe and nervousness. His hands fidgeted in his lap, but he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked onto the scene in front of him.

“Shut up, San,” Jongho grumbled, but his focus remained on you, his lips trailing up to your inner thigh. He pressed a kiss dangerously close to your center, his breath hot and teasing. “You’re already so wet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if the sight of you was affecting him as much as it was affecting you.

Your breath hitched as you felt his fingers slide down to your entrance, teasingly brushing against you. “Jongho—” you gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets as the anticipation mounted.

Without another word, Jongho’s mouth descended onto you, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe over your slit before settling on your clit. The shock of pleasure that shot through you made you cry out, your back arching off the bed as his tongue worked circles over your sensitive flesh.

San smirked, his fingers reaching out to gently tug at one of your nipples, earning a whimper from you. “Looks like someone’s enjoying herself,” he teased, his voice low and husky. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was an unmistakable hunger in them.

Yunho, quiet as always, watched intently, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the sight of you writhing under Jongho’s ministrations. His lips parted slightly, and for the first time, you noticed the bulge straining against his pants. He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t say a word.

Jongho, meanwhile, had no intention of stopping. His tongue flicked expertly over your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. His fingers slid inside you easily, curling in just the right way that had you gasping, your hands flying to his hair as you pulled him closer.

“I-I’m close,” you gasped, your body trembling as you felt the climax building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment.

But just as you reached the peak of your pleasure, Jongho pulled away, his mouth and fingers leaving you empty and aching. You let out a desperate whine, your body shaking with need. “No, please—” you begged, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as the denial of release hit you like a freight train.

Jongho smirked, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watched your desperate reaction. “Not yet,” he said simply, his voice thick with lust. “We’re not done with you.”

Behind him, San and Yunho were already moving. San had stripped off his shirt, revealing his lean, muscular torso, his cat ears twitching in excitement. “On your knees, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice dripping with seduction as he guided you up onto all fours. “Time to give you what you really want.” San’s hands were firm yet gentle as he guided you onto your hands and knees, his movements deliberate and slow. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he positioned himself in front of you, his eyes dark and filled with anticipation. His cock stood hard and ready, twitching slightly as he stroked himself a few times while watching you.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for us, aren’t you?” San purred, his voice smooth and teasing. His words sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core, your body reacting to his authoritative tone.

Behind you, Yunho’s presence was quieter, but just as intense. His hands trembled slightly as he moved into position, his soft golden retriever ears drooping as he knelt behind you. There was a noticeable tension in him—nervousness mixed with an overwhelming desire to please. His hand rested on your hip, his touch featherlight.

San gripped the back of your head gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he positioned his cock near your mouth. “Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding.

You did as he asked, parting your lips and allowing San to slide his length into your mouth. He let out a groan as he pushed deeper, his hand threading through your hair to guide you at a steady pace. His cock filled your mouth, the weight of him heavy on your tongue as you sucked, your cheeks hollowing as you tried to take him deeper.

“Good girl,” San moaned, his hips starting to move in slow, shallow thrusts. He didn’t push too hard, letting you adjust to him at your own pace, but the satisfied growl that escaped him let you know he was enjoying every second.

Yunho, still behind you, hesitated for a moment longer. His large, warm hands slid from your hips down to your thighs, his touch shaky but reverent. “I-I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of San’s soft groans.

You moaned around San’s cock, your body trembling in anticipation of Yunho’s next move. His hand guided the tip of his length to your entrance, his breath shaky as he slowly, carefully pushed inside you. The stretch was delicious, and you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of being filled by him. He was gentle, almost too gentle, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he buried himself to the hilt.

Yunho let out a soft gasp, his forehead resting against your back for a moment as he adjusted to the sensation of being inside you. “You feel… so good,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with awe and disbelief.

The combination of San’s cock in your mouth and Yunho’s inside you was overwhelming in the best way possible. You tried to focus on sucking San, your tongue swirling around his length as he moved in and out of your mouth, but the way Yunho was slowly thrusting into you made it hard to concentrate. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, building steadily with each movement.

San’s grip on your hair tightened slightly as he thrust deeper, his pace picking up as he got more comfortable. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. “You look so good with your mouth full of me.”

Behind you, Yunho was picking up his pace too, his nervousness fading as he got lost in the pleasure of being inside you. His thrusts were slow but deep, each one hitting just the right spot, making you moan around San’s cock. Your body trembled, caught between the pleasure of being taken from both ends.

Jongho, who had been watching from the side with a hungry, possessive gaze, finally moved forward. His presence was commanding, his dark eyes locked on you as he stood beside the bed, stroking himself slowly. He hadn’t touched you yet, but the way his gaze roamed over your body made you shiver with anticipation.

“You’re taking them so well,” Jongho rumbled, his voice low and rough. His eyes flicked to San, then Yunho, before settling back on you. “But you’re not finished yet.”

San groaned, his hips thrusting faster as he neared his peak. His fingers dug into your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth harder. “Shit, you’re amazing,” he gasped, his breath ragged as he felt himself getting closer to release.

Yunho’s thrusts grew more frantic behind you, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he lost himself in the feeling of being buried inside you. He was quiet, but the way his breath hitched and the soft gasps that escaped him let you know he was just as close to the edge.

You moaned around San’s cock, your body trembling as the pleasure built up inside you, threatening to overwhelm you. The sensation of Yunho thrusting into you, combined with San’s cock filling your mouth, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“I-I’m close,” Yunho whispered, his voice trembling with the effort to hold back.

San was right there with him, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep into your mouth one last time, groaning loudly as he came. His release spilled down your throat, and you swallowed it eagerly, moaning around him as your own orgasm built to its peak.

Yunho’s grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you one last time, a soft cry escaping his lips as he came, filling you with his warmth. The feeling of him releasing inside you, combined with San’s release in your mouth, was enough to push you over the edge. You moaned loudly, your body trembling as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

San pulled out of your mouth with a satisfied groan, his thumb brushing over your lips as he smirked down at you. “You did so good, sweetheart.”

Yunho, still behind you, pulled out slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he sat back on his heels, his face flushed with both arousal and embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he mumbled, his golden ears drooping slightly.

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “No, Yunho… you were perfect.”

Jongho, who had been watching the entire time, finally moved forward, his expression dark and hungry as he climbed onto the bed. “Now it’s my turn,” he growled, his large hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself behind you.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jongho thrust into you, his cock filling you completely in one swift motion. You cried out, your body jolting from the force of his thrust. He was rougher than Yunho, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pounded into you with a relentless rhythm.

“God, you’re so tight,” Jongho groaned, his voice deep and guttural as he buried himself inside you again and again. His thrusts were hard and fast, each one pushing you closer to the edge once more. The sensation of being filled so completely by him was overwhelming, your body trembling with pleasure.

San and Yunho watched, their eyes dark with lust as they sat back, their chests heaving as they recovered from their own releases. San’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, while Yunho’s face was still flushed with embarrassment, though there was a hint of desire in his gaze as he watched Jongho take you.

Jongho’s thrusts grew more frantic, his breath ragged as he neared his release. His hands gripped your waist so tightly you were sure there would be bruises, but the pleasure he was giving you outweighed any pain. You could feel yourself nearing the edge again, your body shaking as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good,” Jongho growled, his voice rough with lust. His hips slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he came, his release spilling inside you. The feeling of him filling you was enough to push you over the edge again, and you cried out, your body trembling as your second orgasm washed over you.

Jongho stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Finally, he pulled out slowly, his hands releasing their grip on your waist as he sat back, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You collapsed onto the bed, completely spent, your body trembling from the intensity of everything that had just happened. Your mind was hazy, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you struggled to stay conscious.

San chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Yunho, still flushed and shy, reached out to pull the covers over you, his hands gentle as he tucked you in. “You should rest now. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Jongho lay down beside you, his large body enveloping you as he pulled you into his arms. “Sleep,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing now that the heat of the moment had passed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Exhaustion overtook you, and before long, you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and content in the arms of your hybrids.

You were half awake when you felt San crawl out of bed. He always tried to be careful to not wake you, but you woke up the moment he left the bed anyways. You quickly fall back asleep, knowing he’s only leaving for the gym.

You awaken again when you feel your side of the bed dip and smell his aftershave. Opening your eyes to see San a few inches away, you blink at him.

“Good morning, pretty,” San smiles, dimple appearing. You reach up to gently poke it.

“Hi.” Your voice is heavy with sleep. “Are you leaving now?”

“Mhmm.” He hums, leaning down to kiss you. His lips taste like his toothpaste; the minty scent mixed in with his aftershave was heavenly and you wished you could breathe it in forever. “I’ll be back after lunch.”

San leans away, but you grab his arms and pull him back down. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss the top of his hair, still damp from his shower. His strong arms squeeze your torso as he kisses you one last time.

“I gotta go, princess.” You can hear the pout in his voice as he pulls away. San lovingly pats your leg as you lift your arms out to stretch. “I’ll miss you every second.”

Our Dirty Little Secret

Part 2 to my fic Dirty Little Secret, check out part 1 is you haven’t already. Thank you for reading <3

☆Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: sex worker!Mingi x fem!reader

☆Word Count: 6.9k

☆Warnings: Mingi is a bit submissive in this, unprotected sex, recording while having sex, praise, sending nudes, hand job, fwb, mention of porn (lmk if I missed anything)

☆Summary: After finding out about your best friend Mingi’s secret porn account, you grew to accept his decision in his line of work. You actually start to feel very curious about it yourself, and Mingi is more than happy to fulfill your curiosity.

☆a/n: This took so long and I don’t really like it that much but I hope you do lol :,)

—————————————————————————

You throw your head back laughing, holding your stomach after your friend said something to make you laugh. You were sitting in a small cafe, matcha in hand, while you chatted with your friend from work. 

“I’m serious, it fell and spilled all over me,” he says, taking a sip of his latte.

“San, you’re such a clutz. How many times has that happened now?”

“Three,” he says quietly, and you laugh harder. 

”Is Mingi coming or what?” San says, rolling his eyes at you.

"Yes, I’m sure he is.”

You hear a ping come from your phone; oh, that must be Mingi. You pick it up and open the message without a second thought, not realizing it was an image he sent.

Loser (Mingi): Should I post this? :))

(attached image)

You choke on your drink, staring at the photo of Mingi holding his hard dick in his hand. San looked at you confused, and you try to compose yourself, trying not to act like a fool in front of your coworker.

“What?” He asks.

“Um… he’s uh stuck in traffic.”

"Bro, you scared me; you’re acting like you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

You felt your ears heat up. Damn Mingi, he did this on purpose. Ever since that night at his house, he started to send you nude videos and pictures of himself; you loved it at first. But then he started doing it to tease you, sending stuff when you were at work or in times when he knew you couldn’t be alone to touch yourself. He’s a menace, that damn Mingi.

You set your drink down to text Mingi back. 

You: WHAT THE HECK?!? 

Loser (Mingi): what? 

You: YOU KNOW IM WITH SAN RIGHT NOW, YOU CANT JUST RANDOMLY SEND ME YOUR DICK LIKE THAT!!

Loser (Mingi): Aww, you don’t like my dick anymore? :(

You internally palm your forehead. In this moment, you thank whatever god there is that you can pull off a pretty good poker face. You glance at San before looking back at your phone, thumbs dancing against the keyboard as you typed back at Mingi.

You: Shut up, where are you? Me and San are waiting.

Loser (Mingi): I’m coming. I’m coming. No need to get your panties in a twist.

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down to look back at San, who was waiting patiently to have your attention back on him.

“He’s on his way,” you huff.

“Great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

San smiles softly, showing off his dimples, and he takes another sip of his latte. You hear another ding from your phone, and you glance down at the screen in your lap.

Loser (Mingi): So you don’t like the photo? </3

You: Of course I like it. Now hurry up and get over here.

Mingi smiles down at the phone after reading your response. He turns off the car, stepping out and walking toward the door of the cafe. He can see you and San through the window; he was there the whole time watching. He just wanted to see your reaction to his teasing, that little prick. 

————————————————————————

You, San, and Mingi all caught up with each other, updating one another about your lives, telling stories, and cracking jokes. It was now getting darker, the sun started to set, and the cafe became emptier. You check the time on your phone before speaking.

"Oh, they’re going to close soon. We should probably head out.” 

San checks the time as well, looking down at his watch and letting out a sigh. He looked up, glancing at you and Mingi, who sat together in front of him. 

“Yeah, I should probably head home now. I have to study for my upcoming exam.” 

You all agree to end the night here, getting up out of your seats and picking up your trash. Mingi takes your empty cup and drapes your jacket over his shoulder. 

“That’s alright, man. Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks Mingi.”

Mingi and San shake hands, patting each other back. You pull San in for a hug, and Mingi tries to ignore the small pang of jealousy he felt when he noticed San’s arms wrapping around your waist. 

"Bye, Sannie; see you next time.”

“Oh, did you need a ride back home?”

You pull away from the hug, and Mingi steps in, wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I can take her.” 

San glances at the two of you, smiling softly. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but he shrugged it off and waved goodbye.

“Alright, well, I’ll get going. Good night.”

You and Mingi both wish him a good night and watch him walk off. Once San was out of sight, you pulled yourself from Mingi’s hold. You look up at him with an annoyed face, causing Mingi to put his hands up in defense.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I told you to stop sending those things to me when I’m out in public.”

You playfully smack his chest, making Mingi chuckle quietly. You turn on your heels, walking out the cafe and toward Mingi’s car in the parking lot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He follows behind you, catching up fairly easily due to his long legs. He beats you to the passenger seat, opening the car door for you. You huff, climbing in and sitting back with your arms crossed. Mingi couldn’t help the sly smirk plastered on his face as he walks around the car and climbs in the driver seat.

“Wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Or what?”

Mingi leans closer, glancing at your lips, then back at your eyes. He looked so pretty under the dim lighting. You fight every urge to smash your lips against his, but you didn’t give him that satisfactory. 

Instead, you turned your head, looking out the window. Mingi frowned a bit when you didn’t give him what he wanted. He turned the car on, faint music playing quietly in the background.

“Don’t give me that treatment. You loved the photo; I know you did.”

He drove out of the parking lot, and you watched the darkened trees pass by. You scoffed at his words, not bothering to look back at his face. Obviously you liked the photo; you couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole time you were out. You caught yourself staring at Mingi a little longer than you should have, admiring his pretty lips and hands (and all the things they can do to you). 

Your silence only makes Mingi smirk wider, already knowing what’s on your mind. He glanced at you for a second, then back on the road, one of his hands reached down to grip your thigh.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me, baby. I noticed how you were staring at me back at the cafe.”

Your body tensed, and the feeling of his large hand grabbing the flesh of your thigh made you feel a stir at the pit of your stomach. Of all days, why did you decide today was the day to wear a dress? He gripped your thigh, massaging it in his hand, running his fingers higher up under your dress.

“You look so pretty in this dress. It took every ounce in me not to rip it off and pound you in front of San.”

Images of Mingi’s words flashed in your head, causing your breath to grow more shallow. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together; that didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He let out a low chuckle, squeezing your thigh harder. God, you hated how easily he can rile you up. He knew exactly what he was doing; his ego was seriously too big for his own good. 

You take his hand and guide it back to the steering wheel. Mingi cocked his brow up, feeling a sense of amusement when you play hard to get.

“Two hands on the wheel, Mingi.” You teased.

“Fine, but later tonight I’ll have two hands on you.”

After a few minutes of shooting each other glances and bantering with a bit of flirting, you finally arrive at your place. You reach for your belongings, but Mingi already grabbed them for you, your jacket and purse in his hand as he steps out of the car. You rolled your eyes at him and watched as he ran around the car to open the door for you. 

“I’m perfectly capable of opening the door,” you snickered.

“Hey, let me be the gentleman I am.” 

“You just want pussy.” 

Mingi fights back a little; he wasn’t expecting you to say something so straightforward. He closed the door, feeling heat creep up on his cheeks. Thank God it was dark out so you couldn’t see him blush.

“That’s not...” he says quietly. 

He was brought back to his senses when you walked past him. There was a sly smirk on your face; shy Mingi was always so cute; you just don’t get to see it often. Mingi catches up to you when you stop at the front door, keys jingling as you turn the lock. 

You both step in, placing your belongings down and slipping off your shoes. Almost immediately, you felt Mingi’s hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a small yelp, smiling up at Mingi, who towered over your figure.

“Hey, let me breathe first. I just got home,” you chuckle.

“Can’t wait.”

He leans down to place kisses on your neck. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness, and you push him away slightly. He shoots you a small pout when you reject him, and you coo internally at his expression, reaching up to pinch his cheek. 

“Down boy,” you joke. 

Mingi reluctantly pulls his arms off you with a huff. He walks over to the couch and plops down on it, sulking like a puppy who just got scolded. You laugh at his behavior, walking to him and cupping his jaw.

“I’m going to go shower, then you can have all my attention.”

His head perks up at your words, and a smirk widens on his face. 

“Can I join?” 

“No Mingi. Just be good and wait okay.”

His body slumps at your words. A strange feeling crashed over him when you told him to be good; he had no choice but to give in. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long then.” 

“I’ll be quick; don’t worry.”

You ruffle his hair before walking away, swaying your hips more than usual. Mingi watched you intently, admiring your figure. Once you were out of sight, he let out a sigh, falling back on the couch. 

“Damn tease,” he whispered to himself. 

He picked up his phone in an attempt to find some kind of entertainment. He opened the Twitter app and was immediately met with porn videos. He forgot to switch back to his regular account again; he really needed to get out of that habit. He looked through his DM's  and noticed an unopened message from the buyer of the video you helped Mingi film. He smiled at the message after reading it.

“This was hotttt😍 correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like someone helped you film this?? If that’s the case, I think you should film more with them; I’m sure others would love to see it (I know I will).💋”

Film more with them? Mingi likes the sound of that. He’s always fantasized about recording you while you both fucked, maybe even posting it if you allowed it. But he was always too nervous to ask, afraid that might scare you away.

After a few minutes, you finally get out of the shower. When you walked back in the living room now wearing sleep shorts and a black spaghetti strap top, Mingi (unashamedly) checked you out. He couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face when he saw you. 

“I’m back, did you miss me?”

“Yes, very much,” he says without taking his eyes off your hips. 

You walk past Mingi, sitting on the couch next to him while his eyes stayed glued to you the whole time. You kick your feet up on the couch, getting comfortable and trying to ignore Mingi’s hard gaze. You reach forward to grab the remote and turn the TV on. 

“You know you never answered my question from earlier,” Mingi said.

“What question?”

“If I should post the picture or not.”

You think back at the nude. Mingi sent you when you were out with San. You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Oh my bad for not answering when you sent me a dick picture in public.” 

Mingi smiled, feeling pleased with himself. He leans back, hands resting behind his head.

“You’re not giving me feedback.”

You roll your eyes at him, fighting back a smile. God, you wanted to shove him down on the couch and sit on his face; that way he wouldn’t be able to give you that smug look. 

"Yes, post it. it’s really hot.” 

You turn back to the TV, scrolling through to pick something to watch. Mingi’s smirk widens; he looks down at you, admiring your pretty thighs. 

“Hot? Did it turn you on?”

He reached down, grazing the soft, supple skin. You allowed Mingi to touch you, still scrolling the TV and failing to find something to watch. You give up, setting the remote down and turning to Mingi. 

“What are you going to do if I say yes?”

He leans in closer, hiding his face in your neck as he takes in your scent. He always loved the smell of your body wash; it drove him crazy. He grazed his teeth against your earlobe, sucking it gently. 

“Whatever you want me to do,” he whispers. 

You giggle softly, pulling his face up to place a soft kiss on his lips. Ever since you and Mingi slept together that one night, you both have been thirsty for each other every second of the day. Don’t get it twisted, you were the same friends you were before… just friends that flirt...and  kiss... and fuck. (That’s normal though, right? Haha…)

You told yourself you wouldn’t think much of it and just go with the flow. You and Mingi both kind of agreed to do that. Neither of you wanted to possibly make each other uncomfortable, so you guys just let things happen without looking into it too deeply.

Mingi hummed in the kiss, moving his hand up to grip your waist. He pulls you closer, the kiss deepening and becoming more passionate. You push him away when you feel Mingi try to pull you on his lap, leaving him wanting more. His eyes flutter open, letting out a small sigh. 

“So how is your porn stuff going?”

You stay close to Mingi, resting your head on your hand while studying his features. Mingi leans back on the couch, though his hands never leave your body. He pushed his hair back, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart before speaking. 

“It’s pretty good. Honestly, I’ve been getting more recognition recently.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great.”

You gently nudge Mingi’s shoulder, proud to hear the good news. 

“I’m not surprised; your videos are so hot, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend.”

Mingi smirked at your words, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and playing with a lock of your hair. 

“Yeah? Which video have you been touching yourself too?”

You shoot him a playful glare, making Mingi laugh to himself.

“Don’t make me take back my compliment.” 

“I’m just messing with you. I hope you know your opinion is very valid to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You fiddle with the necklace resting around Mingi’s neck before replying.

“I really like the video of you humping the pillow.”

Mingi bites his lip; the thought of you touching yourself to his videos makes his stomach churn. He honestly fantasizes about it a lot; he always comes the fastest when thinking about it. 

“Really? Well, I’ll make sure to film more of those.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning closer and resting your head on Mingi’s shoulder. He runs his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands behind your ear. 

“Do other people hit you up asking to “collaborate” or whatever? I don’t know what you call it.” 

Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

“I mean, yeah, there are a few mutuals of mine who DM me. But I don’t like the thought of fucking just anyone. I don’t care if other people do it because it is for work, but I don’t know... I prefer to do it with people I care about. Like you.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. A strange wave of relief courses through your body at his response. You decide to brush off the feeling, looking up at Mingi and poking his chest.

"Awww, you care about me.” 

“Of course I do you idiot.”

Mingi smiles, resting his cheek on top of your head. You hum, feeling a sense of warmth at his actions and mindlessly drawing shapes on his chest. Mingi suddenly remembered something he wanted to show you, then pulls away a bit as he speaks up.

“Oh, look at this message I got.” 

He pulls out his phone, showing you the message from the buyer. You smile, raising your brows while reading it. 

“Film more with me? What an interesting request.” 

"Yeah, right,” he chuckled nervously.

“I’m glad they liked it. I’ve watched the video myself, and it was so hot. Even though I’m the one in it, it’s hot knowing that you’re holding the camera.” 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket after you handed it to him. You weren’t going to lie; you have previously thought about what it would be like to be in one of Mingi’s videos. Of course you never mentioned it to him; you were just nervous. But the more you scrolled through Mingi’s and other people’s accounts, your curiosity grew stronger. Maybe this was a sign?

Mingi noticed the way you started to get lost in thought. He leaned down, curiously trying to meet your gaze. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You snapped your attention back at Mingi. You stared into his brown eyes; in this moment, you decided to speak up. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? 

“Just thinking… I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Mingi raised his brows, his eyes widening a bit. He shifted in his seat, moving his body to fully face yours.

“Wait really? Like, you want to film with me?” 

Mingi felt his heart racing in his chest, and you smiled at how excited he looked. If he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now. You nod your head, placing your hand on top of Mingi’s.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. It sounds… fun.” 

Mingi breaks into a huge smile, pulling you in for a hug. You laugh at his reaction; he’s acting as if he won a prize. But to Mingi, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Okay! When? Where? What do you want to do?”

“Mingi, calm.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. He shut his mouth in a closed lip smile, showing off his cute dimples. You couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to poke his cheek.

“We can do it whenever. Today even, if you don’t mind.”

"Oh, I don’t mind at all.”

You felt a strange wave of relief wash over your body. You didn’t notice how anxious you were feeling till you heard Mingi’s encouragement. He stands up off the couch, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You looked at him with a questioning expression, warily taking his hand in yours.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled you up off the couch, leading you through the house.

“We’re going to your room.”

He smiles wide, prancing through the hall and into your bedroom. You shake your head at him, finding his excitement endearing. He pushed the door open, leading you in and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He looked up at you, eyes sparking with eagerness. You step in between his legs, running your hand through his hair. You feel Mingi wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Someone is eager,” you tease.

“You can’t blame me; do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you for content?”

You cock your head to the side, cupping his jaw and holding his face still. The act was weirdly dominant, Mingi likey. You raise a brow to give him a questioning glance. 

“Just for content?” 

Mingi’s breath hitched at your change of tone, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to find words. 

“Well, of course, not just for content. What I meant was... you know what I mean,” he whined. 

You giggle, leaning down to kiss his lips.

“I’m just messing with you, Mingi.”

He felt his heart swell at your soft touch. He couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes; you just looked so pretty. He wanted you to keep kissing him; he needed to taste more of your lips. 

“Alright, I think you’ve been waiting long enough. Let’s get started.” You chimed.

Mingi nods eagerly, smirking wide.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you down, causing you to let out a surprise squeal, then giggle as you settle yourself on his lap. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smashes his lips on yours. You both kiss each other hungrily, his hands on your waist as you grip at his hair.

You hear him groan in the kiss when you pull at the strands; god, you loved that sound. You couldn’t help yourself when you did it again, only harder this time. Mingi let out a moan, the sound shooting straight to your core. 

You pulled his shirt, tugging the hem as a silent way of saying you wanted it off. Mingi chuckled at your actions, knowing exactly what you wanted. He pulled away for a second so he could pull his shirt off in one swift motion.

With no time to waste, he was back on you, pressing hot kisses down your neck. You let out a sigh, basking in the feeling of his lips, and guided your hands down his bare chest. He continued to lick and suck at your skin, making you let out small moans. 

“Baby, let’s lay down on the bed,” you breathed out.

Mingi nodded, reluctantly pulling himself off you and giving you one last kiss on the lips. Mingi moved up on the bed, and you followed closely behind. Crawling back on top of his body, smiling prettily down at him. His hands instinctively rest on your waist when you straddle him.

“Can I have your phone?”

“Yeah, yes,” he breathed out. 

Mingi pulled his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. You grabbed it, leaning down to kiss his lips. He entangled his hand in your hair, moaning softly when you trailed kisses down his neck. You looked up at him through your lashes when you moved further down. You pressed warm kisses down his bare chest to his stomach, slowly licking back up. 

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he moaned breathlessly. 

You chuckled, sitting up and pulling at the buckle of his pants. 

“You’ll have me, baby, don’t worry.” 

Mingi’s hands fumbled to help you unbuckle his pants. He pulls them down for you and throws them on the floor. You turn on his phone, opening the camera app. 

“Mmm, look at you,” you say.

Mingi lay there, breath-grown, labored, and dick hard in his boxers. You can see a slight wet patch on the front. Holy fuck, you were going to devour this man.

Mingi’s dick twitched in his boxer briefs when he saw you point the camera at him. He heard the ding on the phone, your eyes fixated on Mingi’s pretty body through the screen. You reached down, your finger lightly grazing the bulge in his underwear. Mingi’s hips buck up slightly, and shiver runs down his spine.

“Look at you, such a pretty boy.”

Your voice took a tone Mingi never really heard before. It was soft yet dark; he wanted to hear more. He chuckles softly at your words, feeling a wave of desire crash over him at your praise. You run your hand up his body, making sure everything was in frame. 

“I’m pretty?” Mingi asks in a dark, seductive tone. 

You nod, humming in agreement. You slowly trace your finger down his torso, almost as though you were teasing both Mingi and the viewer. You hook your finger on the waistband of his boxers, tugging it at an agonizingly slow pace. 

Mingi huffed at your teasing hands. He knew you were putting on a show for the video, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit impatient. You felt him squirm slightly and chuckled at his behavior.

“Needy aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mingi says softly, with a hint of a whine. 

The sound shot straight to your core, turning the ache in your pants into a throb. God, you needed to hear Mingi whine; you needed to hear him beg. Finally, you pulled the underwear all the way down; his hard length springs up. You giggle softly, cooing at the sight. 

You don’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t help but want to tease Mingi. Although Mingi didn’t seem to mind much. His dick twitch at your condescending tone, making his face flush in embarrassment. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You grasp his length, letting a wad of spit fall down onto the tip. Slowly, you envelope his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Mingi moans softly, watching the way you held the phone close to your face as you recorded yourself jerking him off. The whole scene was so hot, Mingi couldn’t help but feel turned on by the thought of you recording him in such a vulnerable state.

The wet noises of your hand moving up and down on his dick filled the room. You moved your hand faster, watching Mingi’s expression this time. He was already looking at you, and you smiled at him. He whimpered when you locked eyes, his brows furrowing as a small pout threatened to grow on his lips. 

He reached down to grip your thigh, needing to feel you in any way he could. Subconsciously, Mingi started to slowly buck his hand up into your fist. You hum at the sight, biting your lip.

“You’re such a needy boy. You want more?”

“Yes,” Mingi whimpered.

“Yes what?” 

Mingi threw his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes closed as he felt his face grow hot. He knew what you were asking from him, but he was too shy to say it. You gripped his length tighter, stopping the movement of your hand.

Mingi whimpers loudly at the pain, body jerking and dick twitching with pleasure. 

“Yes, what?” You asked again, this time in a darker tone.

“Yes please. Please, I need more,” he whined, covering his face in embarrassment. 

You smiled wide at him, loosening the grip on his cock and jerking him faster. 

“That’s a good boy.”

Mingi moans at your praise, hips bucking up faster than before and dick twitching excitedly. You watched, feeling slightly surprised by his reaction.

“Oh? Does the big boy like to get praised?”

“Yesss,” Mingi whines. 

He gripped your thigh harder, continuing to fuck up into your hand. It was all so embarrassing yet so hot to him. Having you toy with him while you recorded. He felt like he was under your control, and fuck he loved it more than he ever thought he would. 

“Thats right, baby, fuck my hand.”

You completely still the movement of your fist, encouraging Mingi to continue to thrust into your hand. He does just that, bouncing up and down on the bed as he fucked your fist. He continued to let out whimpers and whines, feeling both ashamed and aroused by how pathetic he looked. 

You hummed in delight, making sure you got the best angle of Mingi fucking himself. You moaned softly when you saw a drip of pre-cum ooze out the tip. You pulled your hand off, making Mingi whine desperately, his hips still fucking the air looking for friction. 

You giggle softly, watching the way his dick bounced pathetically. Your fingers find their way on his slit, pulling away and watching a string of pre-cum connect to your finger and his tip.

“So wet, baby.”

You move the camera closer to his length, showing off the pretty cum dripping down his cock.

“It’s all for you,” he says quietly. 

That was your breaking point. You needed Mingi; you couldn’t wait any longer. Your pussy throbbed so much, and you felt your slick stick to the fabric of your shorts. You stopped the recording, setting the phone on the mattress and leaning down to kiss Mingi. He pushed away slightly, looking at you confused.

“Why’d you stop recording?” He breathed out.

“I can’t take it. I need to fuck you, Mingi.”

Mingi whimpered, pulling you down by the nape of your neck to smash your lips together. Your tongues danced against each other, yours exploring his mouth as he lay limp and let you use him however you like.

“Oh god, yes, please do,” he whined. 

You chuckled, pulling away to rip your shirt off. Your beautiful breast was on display for Mingi; he was mesmerized by the sight. He reached up and squeezed them; you smiled at the way his large palms enveloped your breast. 

“You’re so sexy.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words. Mingi smiled up at you, finding your giggling cute. His hands roam down your body, sliding over your waist to your hips. You felt his large hands grip your ass through your shorts, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Take them off for me, Mingi.” 

Mingi smirks wide, wordlessly pulling your shorts off and down your legs. He moans softly at the sight of you; you had no underwear on, which left you completely naked sitting on top of Mingi.

"God, I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait any longer.”

You completely sit down on him, your warm, wet pussy pressed against the underside of his cock. Mingi furrows his brows and grips your hips tightly. You began to rock your hips back and forth, your wetness leaving a glistening trail on Mingi, and he moans softly.

"Why are you teasing me?” he whine. 

You giggle, enjoying the feeling of your swollen clit rubbing against the head of his cock. You couldn’t help but smile at him mischievously; your hands rested on his pecks, and you grabbed the flesh beneath your palms. 

“You just look so cute... whining for me,” you say breathlessly. 

Mingi pushes his head back against the pillow; he was so turned on he needed to feel you already. You glance at Mingi’s phone laying on the bed beside him. He followed your gaze and smirked; he knew exactly what you wanted. He picked it up, opened the camera app, and pressed record. 

You lifted your hips a bit, taking his hard length and aligning it with your sopping hole. Mingi watched through the phone, moaning loudly when you sunk down on his cock. Your hands rested on his stomach, clawing at the skin beneath. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans. 

You moan breathlessly, moving your hips up and down slowly. You already felt your legs start to tremble at the feeling of Mingi filling you up. 

“You fill me up perfectly, baby. Show them how pretty your dick looks sliding inside me.”

Mingi groans at your words, moving the camera closer to you pussy sucking up Mingi’s dick effortlessly. You kept a slow, steady pace; you were so wet you could hear the squelching noises coming from your pussy. Mingi bites his lip, pulling the camera away to show off your pretty body while grabbing your hip with his free hand. 

“Baby,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

Mingi moans at your words, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He planted his feet flat on the bed and thrust up into you at a fast pace. You let out a yelp as intense pleasure coursed through your entire body. Skin slapping against skin as Mingi bucked up into your pussy, he was mesmerized by the way your thighs jiggled when coming contact to his pelvis. 

He held the phone in his hand tighter, groaning loudly as he fucked into you. You couldn’t help the high-pitched moans that escaped your lips; you were in pure ecstasy. And based on the way Mingi’s eyes were glued to your face, brows furrowing, and mouth agape, you could tell he felt the same way. 

“Fuck…so good. Your pussy is so good.”

You moan at his praise, looking down at the phone that was pointed toward you. You felt so vulnerable, and the thought that other people will be watching this video, jacking off to Mingi fucking you, drove you crazy. 

Mingi’s hips stopped when the burn in his abdomen became too much to bear and he panted heavily trying to catch his breath. You decided to give Mingi some time to rest and reached behind you. You planted your hands on Mingi’s thighs and lifted your knees up till your feet rested on the mattress.

“You did so good. I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby.”

Mingi whined when he watched you change positions and nodded eagerly. 

“Okay.” 

With the new position you put yourself in, your pussy was on full display for Mingi and the camera. You rocked your hips up and down, your tits bouncing with your movements. Mingi moans louder, watching intently at the way his dick disappeared in your hole. He was trying so hard not to drop the phone in his hand, wanting to capture this moment forever. 

With the new view, Mingi found himself getting closer to his release. Watching you bounce on his cock was just too intoxicating.

“I’m close, baby.”

“Just a little longer, okay? I’m almost there.”

Mingi’s hand gripped tightly to your thigh, sliding up till his thumb pressed against your clit. You whined at the feeling, legs trembling when he rubbed circles on the sensitive nub.

“Yes yes. Keep doing that, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Cum on my cock, please. I need it.”

Your nails dug into Mingi’s thighs, legs almost giving out when you came on his dick. You clenched so hard around him as your hips stuttered. Mingi’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tried with all his might not to cum inside. Now that's a good boy.

You pulled off him, his dick slipping out and hot streams of cum shot out to cover his stomach. You watched with a sly smirk, reaching down to jerk him off. 

“Fuck!”

Mingi’s body trembled from his intense orgasm, some even landing on his chest and neck. You giggle, and when you notice him coming down from his high, you slow the pace of your hand, not wanting to overstimulate him. You grab the phone from him (surprised he didn’t drop it at this point) and point the camera closer to his cum-covered body.

"Mmm, you see that. What a messy boy.” 

You both pant heavily. Mingi chuckled breathlessly at your words, looking down at his body. You stopped the recording, setting the phone down on the bed. You both smiled at each other, Mingi reaching up to cup your face. 

“Can’t wait to watch that later,” you smirk. 

Mingi rolls his eyes, laughing breathlessly. He pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss on your nose. You rested your elbows on either side of his head while staring into his pretty brown eyes.

“That was so fucking hot. I didn’t know I was the submissive type, but damn, we need to explore that more.” 

You laugh heartily, kissing Mingi’s cheek before speaking. 

"Yes, we do. I swear I almost started running laps whenever you begged for me.” 

“I folded when you called me a good boy.” 

You and Mingi couldn’t help the funny comments. Maybe it was weird that you were cracking jokes after getting dicked down by your best friend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull away, sighing and looking down at the cum that smeared on your body. 

“Now I have to take another shower.”

Mingi laughs at your words, running his hands up and down your sides. He looks up at you with pleading eyes before asking in a hopeful tone.

“Can I join you this time?” 

You decide to throw him a bone, smiling down at him and nodding.

“Yes Mingi. Come on.”

Mingi exclaimed in excitement, picking you up effortlessly and taking you to the bathroom. You squeal when he throws you over his shoulder, and you smack the small of his back.

“Hey, warning next time you decide to manhandle me.”

“No time, must take you to the shower.”

“How do you still have this much energy after what we did?”

————————————————————————

“Ugh, dammit.” 

You lean back in your chair when you see the red letter pop up on your computer screen. 

‘You died’

“Why is this level so hard?” 

Your mumble to yourself. You hear your phone notification go off and light up next to your keyboard. You pick it up and smile to see a message from Mingi. 

Princess Mingi: HELLO!? LOOK AT HOW MANY LIKES OUR VIDEO HAS 

(attached image)

Your eyes bulge out of your head after seeing the screenshot Mingi sent you. 

You: 72k?!? WHAT??

Princess Mingi: This is literally my most liked video. People love you, they think you're hot and want to know if you have an account. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at the thought of people wanting to see more of you. Maybe you should dabble into this kind of work. You were pulled out of your thoughts when another ping rang from your phone. 

Princess Mingi: You should say fuck it and join the sex work community. I think you will do very well.

Princess Mingi: I’ll be your first subscriber ;)

You: I’ll block you before you can find my account 

Princess Mingi: Hey :( you wouldn’t do that to your good boy, would you? :(((

You: Yes.

You giggle to yourself after teasing Mingi. It was just so fun. He sent another message, and your giggles immediately die down when you see the image.

Princess Mingi: (attached image)

What about now? :)

You: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT SENDING ME YOUR DICK

Princess Mingi: YOU SAID NOT TO DO IT WHEN YOURE IN PUBLIC. I KNOW YOURE NOT 

You: WELL NOW IM HORNY AND ALL ALONE

Mingi doesn’t reply back and you see the little ‘read’ text under your message. You furrow your brow in confusion, that bitch, leaving you on read. You set you phone down and turn your attention back to your game on the screen.

After a few minutes, Mingi never replied back. Thats weird. You decide to text him again, he never leaves you on read. 

You: Hey, are you alive?

You were surprised when you saw the three dots appear pretty quickly. 

Princess Mingi: I’m here. Open your door :)

You stare blankly at the phone screen, sitting there dumbfounded. You’re brought back to reality when you hear a honk outside your house. You peak through your window and see Mingi walking out the car and up to your front door. That little shit. 

You: No, stay outside and freeze. 

Princess Mingi: Please let me in :(

You: Why should I? 

Princess Mingi: So I can fuck you good again :) 

You dropped your phone and ran to the front door. Well, it was too cold for him to stay out there all alone. 

————————————————————————

You bite your lip while holding your phone in your hand. 

"Ugh, fuck it.” 

You posted your first nude photo; it was a simple mirror picture of you were in your underwear sitting on your bed topless. You throw your phone on the mattress, feeling nervous yet excited at the same time. You finally did it, you made your own Twitter account. 

After looking at the video you and Mingi recorded for his account, you decided to give in and give the people what they wanted. After a few minutes of pacing around, you pick up your phone to check if anyone has liked your photo yet. You already started getting some likes and a few comments.

You get a notification and press on it immediately. 

‘Sir Min started following you’

You smile to yourself when you read the notification. Of course, Mingi was the first to follow you. You had already told him you were doing it, but you didn’t take into account that he was waiting for you to make your first post this whole time. You get a DM from Mingi, smirking to yourself when reading it.

Sir Min: You look hot, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you more “for content” ;)

~

Tags: @chicksmoothie @wisejudgedragonhairdo @autieofthevalley @breadpuddingboys @pancake-freckle @nanicjj @yunhofingers @cherr-heekisses