#so. uh. okay she has been my friend since we were both like six or something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ruershrimo · 7 months

Text

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 3: motion

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine.'

---

Fushiguro Tsumiki is amazing and she's changed the trajectory of your life. You decide to hope you can do the same for others.

Fushiguro Megumi is someone you meet again after six years, only for the two of you to have become so very different since then.

Itadori Yuji is, well, a fun guy to hang out with. That's all you know for now.

word count: ~10k (this chapter was hell to edit on tumblr); tws: mild “gore” again? (a fight scene)

30-11-2010

“When’s Megumi’s birthday, actually?” you ask one day after finishing the last of your homework off at their place.

“Oh! December 22nd,” Tsumiki states. Megumi’s scrubbing a plate in the kitchen. “Are you planning to give him anything?”

“I’ll see what I can,” you reply, “But I just wanted to know. What do you usually do for your birthdays, though?”

“Hmm,” Tsumiki pauses, “We usually only have Mr Gojo and some of his friends over— oh, hi, Megumi!”

“Yay, you’re back!”

“We were just talking about your birthday,” you inform him. “…you know, I’ve been meaning to ask something, actually. I never really see you guys’ parents, so, um… are they busy? Are they out of the country for work, or something?”

“Oh— no, our parents left.”

Left? Like, abandoned?

“Oh— oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I thought they just had work or something and could never come back earlier— I never even thought—!”

“—They’re probably having fun or dying in a ditch somewhere, though,” Megumi interrupts, “It’s not a problem to either of us. It’s not like we knew them that well either. I can’t even remember them,” he explains.

“Oh…” you trail off, turning to face the table. If they’d really gone away when the two were so young, Tsumiki, the older sister, must have tried to be the ‘adult’, right? That sounds difficult. And you’ve heard that children are like plants, and plants need to have enough space to grow— you can recall that fact from your science classes. So if they’d grown so close to each other with no one else save that weird benefactor guy, would they have been able to grow properly? It must have felt suffocating for both of them, right? Maybe they didn’t realise it if they’d been so comfortable with and used to what they’d been having their whole lives— only each other?

Or maybe you’re thinking ahead of yourself and in reality they were okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t be either way, but maybe the benefactor spent more time with them growing up, and they had more friends before you than you think— you know that Tsumiki does, even if Megumi doesn’t.

“Megumi, you shouldn’t curse people by talking about them dying like that.”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

“Hey, don’t argue…” you start.

“Hm—? Sorry, [Name]! It’s our own issue— don’t worry about it,” she says, her smile a little forced, the remnants of her frown still left on her face, “Right, Megumi?” Oh, she’s angry. Oh no.

“I’ll never understand why you’re like this,” he says, heading to his room.

“Hey— why’re you leaving?” He walks out anyway.

“Tsumiki, why’s he leaving?” She frowns again.

“I’m sorry, [Name],” she says, “Megumi just thinks that you shouldn’t be nice to people.”

“Huh? Nice in what way?”

“No, it’s just… when people do bad things, I think we should forgive them. We shouldn’t punish them instead. We have to be kind because everyone has a reason for what they do, so we should just be kind to whoever we see.”

“…uh-huh. I guess. But my mummy says that sometimes if you do that too much life gets harder.”

“It gets harder if you think it does. Megumi thinks like that too, calling me a hypocrite when I tell him to forgive people and things like that,” she says, “…you know what I think, [Name]?”

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So…” she grins, and it’s light and happy again, but you see the sagacity in her eyes, and maybe how tired yet satisfied she may be on her lower eyelids. “Don’t give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.”

“Oh…” you say. If your eyes could, they would have stars in them. Nobody’s told you you could be amazing at something, much less good. You’re quiet and nobody listens to you. Every parent-teacher-meeting always ends with the conclusion that you’re quite an alright student, but even more so a reticent girl. For years your parents have been telling you to speak up or to be more confident and the only people you’ve been able to speak easily to are Tsumiki and Megumi. The two of them are the only ones who have ever said much beyond your timid demeanour.

You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine. It’s strange how she doesn’t know that, how she must think that she and Megumi are close friends and that the impact she’s had on you is far less than that; it’s strange how you can meet other people at any time and if it’s the right person, no matter what, your life will be affected. It’s strange that there is such a thing as fate.

It’s 2010 and you think this year is one you want to keep lasting forever.

27-6-2016

It happens on one summer evening.

Everything seems like it’s empty; from the streets and their dusty white concrete turning grey as they’re drenched with water, to the rain that news outlets report to be more saturated with acid as the years go by, to the houses and trees that around this time are either deafeningly loud with either the quiet, the sound of cicadas or the temporarily never-ending downpour.

But for a while, on that morning, the place where you’re settled in— for now— is the rain’s dominion, and you’re just a feeble, powerless human at the hands of nature’s relentlessness.

So you stay under the convenience store awning, hiding in the shade from the rain after running an errand. The last time you’d got drenched in this type of weather— about two weeks ago— you’d got ill, and it only caused your parents more problems, as your mother chided you. Being sick in the summer wasn’t that bearable for you either— no, it was something hellish. Sometimes you could handle being sick in the winter with a runny nose or getting mild colds in the spring, but being sick during summer time was the worst. You’d be struggling to breathe through mucus-filled lungs and you wouldn’t be able to swallow anything without triggering a terrible ache in your phlegm-filled throat due to post-nasal drip. You’d be feeling like ridding yourself of anything resting in your insides, from toxins to food; you wouldn’t be eating or ingesting anything except water and the constant sensation of feeling faint weighing you down would seem like it were about to kill you prematurely as the sweat from a high fever made you feel immeasurably weak, like a helpless child trapped in the confines of your own body.

“Are you okay?” the cashier by the counter— not the one who’s usually there, though, so you presume that this one’s a replacement— asks as you’re lost in your own thoughts, “I can give you an umbrella. For free.”

You’d insist on paying if you had any cash, but your now empty wallet reminds you of the fact that you’re all out. You have a tiny quibble with the kind lady before she finally gives in, and you’re off on your way back home.

Even upon further inspection as you exit the store, she still seems like a run-off-the-mill cashier. She seems to be in her early 20s, some college student back for the summer part-timing at the local convenience store for extra cash, maybe— with a sort of wistful yet coltish smile and a mole by the side of her right eye.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be so insistent on not doing things if those things’ll do you good,” she tells you, “I mean— I know that sounds kinda mean, and that in asian cultures like ours we naturally say stuff that deprecates ourselves, but I really do think that you should, um… how do I say it?” she ponders aloud, “Aha! —Yes, you should just look out for yourself and let people help you. It does everybody a little better. And, you know, you’ll be able to live life without regrets, because there won’t really be an opportunity cost for letting people help you, and they’ll like helping you too. I mean, who doesn’t like helping others? Wait, you get what I mean, right?”

“...it sounded like you were rambling,” you tell her, then step back, “Um. Sorry.”

“No, no! It’s fine! Like, um, you and I are kinda similar in that regard, I guess? We’re both awkward and we’re strangers but I just thought that the advice would do you some good, you know?”

“Ah— I get it, sorry,” you repeat, “It’s just that… I’m not used to that, maybe? I don’t want to be a burden on others.” Not anymore.

She purses her pink-glossed lips. “It’ll be hard to live like that, you know. If you live like that you won’t know who you are.”

It’s strange to hear that from a literal stranger. What’s even stranger is how deep the conversation is. Wasn’t this the time to make small talk? You didn’t talk to strangers very often, especially those in stores and all. At least not for this long.

“I… uh. I’ll see— I guess…” you mutter. The conversation dies there. You really aren’t suited for things like that. You can only find it easy to communicate and speak in that way when it’s with Tsumiki or your parents. Otherwise, you’d be stuttering and muttering your way through valleys of words that you don’t know if you should use, people demanding you speak up, or people commenting on how awkward you are, even if they mean so endearingly. You don’t know the source of the problem, really— maybe it was puberty and the onslaught of new, different people you had to talk to every time you moved? Maybe it is that. But this is your predicament: you used to be able to talk to people and over the years that just went away.

And it’s especially bad with people your age— the last time you’d been able to talk to someone your age in a normal, non-cloddish manner, was probably when you were eight.

Oh.

When you exit the shop, the sky’s been dipped in the sunset and it looks like a mix of purple and pink hues have been laid onto it like watercolour paint on fresh paper. The cashier waves you goodbye anyway, claiming that she hopes you’ll come back soon— you hope she doesn’t hate you now, else you’d avoid this convenience store like the plague for the next few months. The plastic bag rustles and crinkles as its contents bump against your knees.

The air is still thick with petrichor and the breaths you take feel light and fresh, brushing against the inner walls of your lungs as you breathe in and out. There are water residuals left on the sidewalk in patches.

Suddenly it changes— and you don’t notice this until after it happens. The air grows heavy and everything around you feels volatile, like their constituents will be separated from each other at any moment, turned into a mangled mass of jostling particles; your ears feel as if they’re so intensely covered to the point that you find it difficult to catch a breath; you can’t bring your lungs to continue moving after that hitched breath you made once you felt it. There’s something in the air, something disgusting and thick and suffocating. It fills you with ominousness. It fills you with a feeling of sickness, of suffering, of shame and fear and sadness, and it’s lurking somewhere, somewhere in the dark.

Cursed energy.

You remember your father talking about it, mentioning how it felt in passing.

Oh no.

“Help!” a voice erupts— it’s the same voice from the cashier, except this time it isn’t pleasant, it’s frantic, no— downright terrified.

If there is anything you’d consider yourself it isn’t someone who saved others.

Beyond the geographical sense of the word, you were the embodiment of stasis; something that didn’t touch others at all and made no effort to do so. You’d have no effect on any others’ life and for a long time you’d accepted you’d live a life amounting to nothing. You knew that and walked into life thinking you’d just keep doing nothing until you died for some nondescript reason.

So you didn’t really care about your future, and you abstained from thinking of the morality behind your actions because what was there to judge, anyway? You just had to follow what everyone else did, and none of your actions were so monumental to change anything. Being guilty over doing too little or doing nothing at all wouldn’t change anything; you didn’t have the power to change it and you didn’t see the point of a Sisyphean life like such. Even if humanity would have tugged at your shoulder to do something and be removed from that state of stasis, you were sure everyone felt the same and the amalgamation of this was society’s indifference— after all, what was humanity, kindness, against society’s apathy, its enemy; what was humanity when placed against what it had built itself into?

Thus for all your fourteen years of life you did nothing at all to change the trajectory of anything. It would be no use doing and no use trying. Nothing would come out of it in the end.

As long as you could be useful to your parents, or at least the people around you, you didn’t have to care about being good or bad or kind or evil.

You’d lived like that for a long time. You’re not the type to save people, not the type to help those you know nothing of.

You look down at your clenched fists, at her hair tie and its cherry-red hue.

She did say you’d be good at it.

It’s strange to think of your best friend now, but damn it, you really want to be like her now. You need to.

Else you wouldn’t be able to live; you have the power to help people, right? And you’re probably one of the only people on this island with the ability to do so. At the very least you’ve got some cursed energy, and you’ve always been able to heal from injuries really quickly. You’ve seen enough, from simple shikigami to veils and simple domains cast by your father.

So there may be a chance, a one in a million chance. And you’re willing to take it. If you don’t take it now and find that in the future you could have helped someone who would have gotten injured or worse— it’s now of all times that you think you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive yourself for such a thing.

You can’t change the directions of others’ lives. At least not if you keep thinking like that.

You grind your teeth and turn back, leaving the bags on the sidewalk. You’ll get them later. This is a ridiculous idea and you’re doing it anyway and your mind is screaming at your frozen legs to move and keep running, idiot, keep fucking moving because you’ve got to save someone you may just be able to save. Someone you don’t know, who may just be able to help. She said that you shouldn’t deny things that can help you, after all. And she has to be helped, right? So you’re going to jump in and you won’t deny yourself from saving yourself from a life of guilt. And you’re going to be useful, too. You’re going to help.

You really have to do this and all of a sudden you think you may be crying. But you run forward anyway. You’re going to move away from that state of stasis; you’re going to change and shift and move; finally, it’s liberating and frightening and feels like living as you step into the store.

Your lungs are burning.

The curse looms over, a deformed, monstrous thing with its eyes and hands drowning in the mud-like substance it consists of.

You’re going to make this work. You’ve seen your own cells once or twice before in science classes and all, you remember how your father had the old microscope he used to use for work, and brought it out for you to look at what made you. You’re your father’s daughter so you’ll make this work, your promise yourself— and you think of those cells, you conjure that image of them in your head and focus on them shifting, changing to make something new. You force them to multiply by the millions in a tenth of a minute, then you cut them off from your body. You make a tiny blister and goodness you can’t imagine you can actually do it but you’ve got to digress from that and worry about the college student cashier first, and how she’s trembling at the sight before her.

There’s a bruise on her arm, and so you’ve got to examine the situation: she’s holding it to her chest so you can imagine she’s only been wounded on the skin and hasn’t been scratched or anything. You imagine her cells— they mustn’t look too different from yours— and heal them back up, the blotch of a bruise disappearing as if wiped over by a stain remover. “Calm down!” you shout at her, and you really don’t mean to, but adrenaline and anxiety and the whole situation are getting your heart pounding unlike ever before.

“Wait— don’t touch that thing!” she shouts, “You’ll end up getting bruised by the hands!”

So what next? —Cursed energy alone can kill other curses if there’s enough of it, right? And your mother told you about how some people imbue things with cursed energy.

Then you run to the curse slapping it with as much force as you can muster, and it’s arms outstretch to snatch you and force you all around, hitting you abrasives against the shelves of the buns you bought earlier, scraping your skin against the surface of the counter’s edge or nearly smashing your shoulder against the wall, but you keep your hand on any part of it no matter what. You surge your cursed energy, splitting part of it to heal your wounds and the other part of it to overload it with cursed energy. The more intense you get, the harder it hits. But you can’t give up— you’re going to commit to it and stick to something; you’re going to do something that’ll amount to another thing for once. The sight of the cashier hiding under the counter, hunched and praying is enough for you to keep going. She doesn’t deserve that.

You load it with all the cursed energy you can manage as a rookie— you don’t think this is as much as a rookie has, though, so you probably have a lot and you promise you’re coming out of this thing alive. For once you’re going to swear you’ll keep living this intensely.

Eventually it fizzles out, its energy, and you just keep overloading it with cursed energy. You’ve still got a lot left. That’s good. Extremely so.

It bursts all over the convenience store, the ways it was made of. It’s going to be hassle to clean. You fall on the ground face flat and heal yourself. There’s a nosebleed, you think, from such a large amount of cursed energy. You’re panting heavier than you’ve ever done in your from any race or PE class.

But you’ve discovered that you are the type to help others. You’ve discovered that you can change others’ lives if you want to.

And it’s really frightening, but you’re happy. You don’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer— you know too little of curses’ organic matter to be able to do this without making it alive yourself— but you’re going to devote your life to helping others.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor in that world, a nurse, or something. You won’t have to be too involved in its inner workings; you won’t be on the front lines. Still, you’ll help and you’ll be useful. You’ll help and your life will be a good one to live, hopefully.

Shakily, she moves up. You’re shaking too, gooseflesh and cold sweat and temperatures going wild in and on your body.

“A-are you okay?” she asks.

“Oh— uhm, yeah!” you say, rubbing the blood off your philtrum. You’ll have to have a really long shower once you get back. Maybe you’ll draw a bath or something. “Sorry, I… uh— I should have asked you to go outside or something. Could you not tell anyone about this? If you’re injured anywhere I’ll try my best to patch you up as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I— okay… god, you’re just a kid,” she goes, “What happened back there, actually?”

“Have you ever seen stuff like that before? Like that monster?”

“…no.”

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, because there are people who take care of stuff like that. You seeing it was just a one-time thing. It probably won’t ever happen again!” you say, holding your thumb up. “Promise not to tell anyone, okay?”

“Alright. Just… you okay? Want me to help you with anything? I mean, it’s pretty late now.”

“I’ll be okay. But I think I’ve got to go home now. Could you let me see any injuries you had got just now, first?”

28-6-2016

You only arrive back at midnight. The weather’s fully put a stop to its torrents and your parents are worried sick. You’re so tired you could faint— fighting the curse took more out of your mental energy than you thought it would, and you have a splitting headache as the result of it.

When they see you and sense the cursed energy, you explain whatever happened. Once you’re done your father shudders, and your mother stands up.

“Whatever it is, I’m not letting you be a jujutsu sorcerer,” she states resolutely, “I’m never going to let you be one.”

27-12-2016

The date you and Megumi have agreed on (with the help of Tsumiki as a sort of middleman) is about a week after his fourteenth birthday.

Your parents told you to be careful— it’s a long trip to and from Tokyo, and you’re going all alone.

This is the travel plan: fly from Kagoshima to Tokyo, stay at Megumi and Tsumiki’s for a while, and ultimately find the courage to hand him the letter before you leave. Maybe you’ll see if he still cares for you while you’re at it.

To be honest you don’t completely feel like going there anymore— you’ll always love Tokyo, it’s just that things will be painfully awkward between you and Megumi. So you remind yourself of Tsumiki, and that you’re mostly doing this for her. Any of the three of you can be the glue holding the other two together at any given moment, and now it’s Tsumiki playing that role.

Friends will always be above boys, anyway. So you’re doing this for Tsumiki and not him or yourself.

When you’re finally at the airport, Tsumiki greets you with a hug and Megumi in tow. You’ve her old hair tie on your wrist— it’s come in handy multiple times since then. They both look so different now: Tsumiki’s still tall, but her hair has grown longer, more luscious and she looks so pretty you understand why she had received so many anonymous confession letters on Valentine’s Day this year. Megumi’s taller too, and though it’s slightly embarrassing the first thing you think of when you see him is how handsome he looks, at least as far as boys your age go. The viridian of his eyes is a lush summer day in a capsule, a contrast to his jet black hair spiking in all directions and his eyelashes— and those, too, those eyelashes, goodness— they look like they were woven by silk or taken off a doll: they’re so unbelievably long and curly and pretty. Your face is as hot as an oven that’s about to bake up a whole cake and let it expand and rise. They’re the kind of people you see on television, each so beautiful like the other and you almost feel as if you’re intruding; you can’t imagine how out of place you must look with them from the eyes and viewpoints of other people.

“Tsumiki!” you grin as you’re still kept in her arms, “Long time no see!”

“[Name]! Finally! Oh, you look so pretty now!”

“Haha, really? I was thinking the same about you, though. I’m so happy to see you, seriously!”

“Me too!”

You step back and pull away.

“Hi, Megumi,” you say. You’re nervous, but you can’t deny you’re happy. You smile as you look at him— the two of you are no longer the same height anymore. You tug at the straps of your bag, feeling the weight of you pulling the straps down on your shoulder. “…it’s nice to see you again.”

“…nice to see you again, too.”

Why’d he have to stop talking to you? Why’d he have to avoid you? “How’s… um, how’s everything?”

A glimpse from your peripheral vision shows Tsumiki with sparks in her eyes. She really was so excited— and maybe a little too hopeful, because you don’t think anything will happen at all. The incident from June makes you feel like you should try to hope for something, though. But you probably won’t be completing this trip with a new boyfriend kissing your neck or something.

“It’s been okay,” he answers.

“…it’s the same for me.”

“That’s good to know.”

You take the train back with them, breathing in how crowded Tokyo is once again. When you’d first arrived six years ago you felt like a country bumpkin, the masses of people turned into one giant entity never once fathomed by your eight year old mind. Now you’re fourteen, and the lights with their neon sparks, the dark concrete bathed in streetlights when the sun sets, the moon hanging overhead over a multifaceted maze of buildings— it feels a bit like coming home, even if you only called it home for a little less than twelve months of a life spanning some number roughly around five thousand, one hundred and ten days.

You really love Tokyo. But more than that you love the people you met in it during what feels like a lifetime ago.

The cold air that you breathe in as the three of you walk and take the turn to their house fills your lungs, settling into them like they never left.

“—And you remember that old maths teacher?” Tsumiki laughs, “‘You children have to harness your mental prowess!’” she quotes, holding two fingers on each hand up in the air.

“Oh my god,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “I was so sick of him last time— bet he’d feel old as hell now if he saw us all grown up like this.”

“We saw him last week,” Megumi adds, “That old geezer expected college-level intelligence from bunches of feral eight and nine year old kids.”

“I mean, you were a smart kid, Megumi,” you recall, “Tsumiki too. But that guy, seriously…”

“Hey! You were a smart kid too, [Name]! But was there anyone who didn’t hate him last time?”

“Never, probably,” you agree, “He was so infuriating. Ugh— Oh! We’re here! I haven’t been here in so long, oh my goodness…”

Megumi works the key in and opens the door. You inhale the scent of their house, a mosaic of memories and old book pages. Places like these deserve to remain treasured forever.

The three of you step in. Smiley Tsumiki, frowny Megumi and you. This is the home that will never leave you no matter what. This is what you’d call home even if you’re not in Tokyo, or away from them, because it felt like a constant for a year and that was enough to feel like you went to it at least five times a week for less than a full year.

It feels good to be home. It feels better to call it that after years of not feeling as if you really ever had one at all.

28-12-2016

You can’t sleep.

They’ve helped you unpack all your things, you’re clad in pyjamas and have had a thorough shower, and the white blanket on the futon is warm on the inside and cold on the outside— perfect for sleeping comfortably. But you can’t get a wink of sleep.

Since you’d first discovered that you could, in fact, use cell manipulation, your nights had always been like this.

To use it properly with your own organic matter, cell manipulation requires cooperation with your brain and your stomach— the source of cursed energy. Imagining the cells enough and applying cursed energy to them required your brain to overload itself with both cursed energy and information, and adding commands to that, making yourself do even the slightest bit of actions with your cells— felt like leaving your brain in the microwave. The fact that your gut— for your cursed energy— and your brain— for command and control— had to work together added more of a headache on top of that. Headaches and nosebleeds and your brain being unable to shut down became what you were used to.

Did you keep doing it anyway? Yes— you still had the intention of helping people with it, after all. You held on to the hope that you could be a doctor or a nurse for jujutsu sorcerers or something, not an actual sorcerer in that world itself. You assumed your mother would be fine with that at least. You’d be satisfied with something like that as well, even at the cost of your sleep and health. You were still young, and the only two people who could do anything like this were you and your over fifty year old father. And you didn’t want him doing that at all for any longer.

Clang–!

The water bottle on the bedside table falls to the carpeted floor with a bang against the wood under it— you rush to pick it up with as little sound as you can manage.

Stealthily, you step out of bed. If your memory serves you right, the kettle should be on top of the drawer next to the oven.

You’ll drink some hot water or tea and lull yourself to a peaceful night eventually, you decide.

Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s light— so light that it would be inaudible had you stayed on the bed instead of moving nearer to the door, and so soft even the lightest of sleepers wouldn’t hear it. So whoever this is, they must know that you’re awake. You’re sure you wouldn’t have caught it at all and for a second you wonder whether there really was someone knocking the door after all. Tsumiki seems to be fast asleep, though— you can hear her muffled snoring from the other side of the wall. Thank goodness she’s a heavy sleeper. You’re not too sure about how Megumi fares in that sense.

You turn the cold metal knob and open the door.

In the dim light the front of his body’s barely visible, its glow only tracing the outline of his left shoulder from the back.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice as soft as you can to prevent cracking your voice once you’ve started speaking.

“I heard something,” Megumi answers, “Did you fall?”

“It was just my water bottle. Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about that.”

“Why’re you still awake?”

He places his hand on the door frame, voice lower than earlier that night. “Why are you? It’s way past midnight,” he adds, “...I couldn’t fall asleep either, to be honest…”

“Insomnia, huh?” you go, “This happens to me all the time, too.”

“No, it only happens once in a while,” he remarks, “Usually I sleep pretty well.”

“Oh. You wanna come inside? We can, like, talk, or something. We can catch up.”

“Sure.”

You guide him over to the edge of the bed, and he shuts the door before he sits down beside you. There is no way you can think to describe this other than saying that it’s strange, really: the boy you had a crush on six years ago, who was one of your closest friends, has grown more than thirty centimetres, and the aura surrounding the two of you is more awkward than any conversation you’ve ever had in your life. Neither of you question why the light isn’t turned on, and neither of you head to the bedside table to flip the light switch anyway, so the scene in their guest room is of two fourteen year old— about to be fifteen year olds in a little over three days, though— kids in the dark either reminiscing over memories or trying to catch up despite having changed so much.

“So how’s life?” you start.

“Nothing much happens at all, honestly. Wait, [Name]—” When he says your name it’s like your chest makes one full leap. “—I think I should let you know, six years ago, the dog you saw—”

“I already know about all that,” you tell him, “My parents told me. …hey, wanna see something I can show you with my own cursed technique?”

“...okay.”

You hold your hand out.

“It may be hard to see it in the dark, but…”

He turns the light on for you before you finish and you thank him. It must have been silly to try and show it to him when everything was engulfed in the night despite the fact that you were closer to the switch. You lean back as he outstretches his arm to do it.

“See?” You hold your hand up, palm displayed and facing him, before closing your eyes and imagine your heaps of skin cells and red blood cells. You’re bound to have a headache by tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. At least there’s something you can show him, something new you can let him know of. This was ‘catching up’, anyway.

“[Name]!” He whispers, but the urgency in his voice is clear. You close the wound up immediately, speeding through a healing process that would have taken days to be completed in the span of a few seconds. Tomorrow you’re going to end up having a nosebleed, too.

“Are you alright?” he goes, “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Is it?” you reply, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s just that I’m not that used to it yet. I guess if I trained my body even more, it would be able to handle it better.”

His hand strays to yours, most likely out of worry. You pull it back.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Sorry if I made you worry.”

“...I don’t think you should strain yourself,” he begins. It’s like how you and your father speak to each other— how funny. “If your own cursed technique does that to your body, it’s better if you don’t use it at all.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, “I’m not going to use it in fights or anything, either.”

“You won’t become a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“No,” you explain, “I mean, my dad was one and he quit a while ago, but I know it’ll be hard to hold on and do so much with this during fights. I may just be like, backup, or a doctor or nurse, or something. You?”

“I think it’s pointless to save others.”

Wow, cringey much. Reminds you of yourself six months ago.

You don’t press it any further.

“But… about doctors and all, there are people like that. Only one, to be more specific.”

“Oh, well then— what's her name? I’d love to meet her.”

“Ieiri Shoko. Want me to introduce her to you?”

29-12-2016

He does try to take you to visit her the next day. You think the reason why he’s doing this is to avoid catching up, or at least actually talking about something beyond a superficial level. You think that if that’s the truth behind this then you must be at fault too because you let him take you there with no hesitation whatsoever. Like adding opaque white tape over a fully painted canvas.

But he fails because of the man over the phone. It’s probably that Gojo guy, that benefactor. Now that you know how strong he is in terms of sorcery, you guess that since he’s taking care of Megumi, Megumi’s probably a massive deal too.

“No, I’m just asking if she can visit right now— no, get your head out of the gutter, damn it!”

He hangs up. “I’m seriously going to punch him,” he states, frowning. So it’s definitely Gojo, then. You remember him being really insufferable by Megumi’s standards. “She’s busy, by the way. …sorry about that.”

“Calm down, it’ll be alright,” you say, “We didn’t have to. Let’s just go around the city like tourists or something. I think that’s better anyway.”

Tsumiki says she can come along with you, but she’ll have to leave at the stop right before Ueno for something important— a sudden appointment with someone, she says— before heading back and reconvening with you and Megumi. The three of you ride the Yamanote Line, but at the stop right before Ueno—your first chosen destination for this trip— Tsumiki has to leave, as she’d said. She apologises profusely. You know she isn’t slick.

You take your phone, texting her.

[Name]

Tsumiki

You ain’t slick

Why

Seriously omfg

[Tsumiki]

Sorry, I would have joined, just wanted to test the waters hehehehe… (>‿◠)✌

I mean you two seem ok

But let me know if anything bad happens okayyy???

You two seem pretty happy with each other though… also, what happened last night?

If you’re up to any hanky panky, don’t do it under our roof (ㆆ_ㆆ)!!

[Name]

Literally so done with you right now -_-

But thanks I guess, I’ll see if we can catch up

AAAAAAHHHHH it’s gonna end up being so awkward I swear

[Tsumiki]

Good luck!! Love you bestieeee

Ttyl okay?? Gimme all the details

“Who’re you texting?” he whispers.

“Just a friend,” you say, as they announce that the train is in Ueno.

The day in Ueno Park goes quite smoothly, really— but there’s still little progress made and the letter seems to be having its screams more drowned out the more you tug on your bag.

“It’s pretty cold,” you comment as the two of you walk around, witnessing everyone else walking around with their huddled-up bundles of clothes and coats on, “Next time, if it’s not too crowded, we should, um… we should visit during autumn or spring. Together.”

“Tsumiki and I can come here anytime. It just depends on you,” he says, a little rougher than you think he intends, “Wait— no, I mean, your timing—”

You giggle slightly. So you’re not the only one who’s gotten more awkward since last time. Now he doesn’t seem the type to be, though— he seems more like those ‘cool’ guys in shoujo mangas; those bad boys who the girls end up changing, or something. Kinda cringey. But the fact that he’s avoiding eye contact and turning his head away evasively so that you don’t see him because of such a little slip-up in his phrasing is really, really cute. At least that’s what you think. It’s not like any other people would think the same, probably because of that frown or the fact that his voice doesn’t seem any flustered at all. But you think that’s okay. That makes it so that there’s more for you to appreciate, maybe. “It’s fine,” you reassure him.

“...I brought a camera, by the way,” he says, digging for it in his pocket. The camera itself seems like one from the 2000s— it’s the small type with the wrist strap, and the buttons on the side and all. “It’s… old, though.”

“Oh! That looks nice!” you comment. It really does. Your bag’s strap— the damn thing— slips off your shoulder again and you’ve got to put it back securely in place. Your shoulder hurts and you regret bringing so much with you.

“Want me to hold your bag for you…?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, “It’s just that it goes off my shoulder sometimes and it can be pretty heavy. I packed too much stuff in it, heh.”

“Then I’ll carry it. Give it here.”

You end up handing him the bag. At least he doesn’t mind how heavy it is, nor does he complain about what you must be packing, or anything. It’s better than being forced to give your parents your things only for them to tell you to pack lighter ones.

“It’s good that we avoided the crowd, but now there aren’t any leaves or flowers…” you start. You hope it doesn’t sound like complaining— that would be awfully rude. “Normally, people would be having picnics here, right?”

“We can still take pictures, though. Wait, can you— can you stand in front of me, here?” he asks, his steps coming to a halt next to a small garden.

“Okay.”

He brings the camera to his eye. “Smile,” he says.

You’ve quite an awkward-looking smile, you think. It’s always bothered you slightly whenever your parents wanted to take pictures of you, but you smile anyway in the picture— you give him your brightest grin. It’s not like either of you will keep it anyway, and you are happy: gratingly awkward or not, you’re still with an old friend.

“Ah, delete that,” you tell him when he shows the picture to you. The backdrop is pretty, though. “You should take a picture of the background. I look so bad in it.”

“It’s a nice picture,” he argues, “You look… nice.”

You shift your line of sight to look at him, unsure if it’s out of incredulousness, or the fact that the whole situation seems to be a little silly, or the fact that he’s looking down at the picture with a gaze that warms your heart a bit. Those eyelids and lashes and green green pupils will be the death of you, you’re sure. You feel you could drown in them at any second. “…thanks.”

He looks back at you.

“I think you look nice too, Megumi.”

It’s really, really cold, but you feel your face heating up. For once in your life it doesn’t feel like something you should be shy of.

30-12-2016

“Could you show me the dog again?” you ask him. He’s on the bed again. Different day, same situation. “Why did it suddenly pop out all those years ago anyway?”

“It was an accident,” he explains, “You know how my Ten Shadows technique comes from the shadows, right? Wait, I should rephrase that—”

“Oh… I mean, don’t worry, you don’t sound rude or anything. I just wanted to see the dog. I mean, I like dogs! I still read books or articles about them every now and then.”

“There are actually two.”

“Two?” you go, wide-eyed and excited.

He summons them out of the ground, one dark with the same red markings, and the other the exact same dog as the one you saw six years ago. He does it effortlessly— there’s no pain involved, no trade-off for getting to show someone his abilities. It’s not like you and your father’s, with your headaches and nosebleeds and vertigo every time you use it even if it’s for something simple like opening up a wound and closing it, or creating tiny blisters. How terribly inconvenient it was for you, and how easy it was for Megumi to use it so quickly and painlessly. You were slightly jealous of him for it.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” you say, petting the white one. It cuddles up to you. The one with dark, fluffy fur does the same and you’ve got each palm on each dog’s head.

You turn your head back to face him. “Thank you, Megumi.”

“...it’s nothing.”

What a classic Megumi-like thing to say.

15-4-2017

Freshly fifteen years old, you know one thing. The friends you meet at this age are probably the best you’ll ever have.

You’re still training your cursed technique from time to time if only for leisure or any emergencies since your mother’s absolutely determined to keep you from being one. But you’re in a new place again— your parents have chosen to move back to Sendai— where they lived and got married before you came along, and everything considered things aren’t as bad as when you had to leave to and from Tokyo.

It all started with the class’s seating arrangement. You sat down after one of the classes, preparing yourself for a year where you had to search through the whole school for friends or spend it alone as you watched everyone else fall into their groups from the previous year like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces clicking into place again.

The clique in front of you is all looking at this one guy with unkempt hair as pink as cherry blossoms, or MyMelody’s pink ribbon. He’s got a boyish grin on his face that honestly makes him out to be a pretty nice guy.

“Hey!” a guy greets, his hand up as he’s smiling at you, “My name’s Itadori Yuuji. What’s yours?”

He’s kind of tall, is a really smiley guy, and seems like he’d be pretty popular. He reminds you of a friendly puppy. Or one of those really, really cute seals people make videos of in aquariums.

You tell him your name. “You… uh, you seem pretty popular, Itadori.”

He pauses and turns his head up like he’s thinking. “Well… now that you mention it, I guess so,” he states, hand scratching the back of his neck, “They’re pretty cool, though. Don’t worry!”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, where ya from?”

“I–uh. I mean, my parents move a lot,” you say, “So I guess you could say I don’t know where I’m from, myself? Sendai’s my parents’ hometown, though. And they wanted to be back for a while. So I transferred here.”

“Cool! So you’ve got to see a lot of stuff?”

“Uh. Kind of?”

He drags a seat from behind him before facing you. The way he sits is comfortable; it’s almost funny— you’re so awkward, so rigid like a frozen statue, and he’s actively trying to melt it, but the ice is still cold and barely broken. Poor Itadori, you think, He’s talking to someone who doesn’t know who to talk properly. He’s going to get bored any minute but he’s still going to talk.

“Like, um…” you think, “Oh! I went to the Tanegashima space centre a while back.”

“Woah!” he goes, with excitement in his eyes like fireworks sparkles, “Wish I could go to space one day. Maybe it’ll be like something in Passengers.”

It’s only the space centre, though? Not space itself, you think. But you guess that’s okay— something, something, men are perfect when they’re a little dumb. You don’t know that much about idols. “I haven’t seen it yet, but uh, sounds nice, I guess? And you don’t look like the type to watch sci-fi movies… but maybe I’ll watch it one of these days. I don’t watch a lot of movies, though.”

“I mean, it’s got Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he says, “She’s my favourite actress!”

That makes a lot of sense. “…really? I’ve only seen her in clips from the Hunger Games a few times. I mean, I heard she’s had other pretty good movies, though, like… what was it called… Silver Linings something? I don’t know, uhm.”

“Oh, Silver Linings Playbook?” he says, excitement dazzling in his eyes again, “Man, you haven’t lived if you haven’t seen them. I’ll drag you along with me sometime to watch it!”

“Ah,” you go, unsure of what to say, “Um… nice! Thanks!”

Over the course of the next few months you learn a few things about Itadori Yuuji. He loves horror movies and Jennifer Lawrence with a passion, is a sterling athlete and freakishly good at sports, and has a smile that makes people turn to face him like sunflowers to bright summer sunlight. And he knows you too— knows that you mildly loathe all genres of nonfiction save for books about animals (especially dogs), that you prefer when things are busy even if you may enjoy the quiet, and that the two of you are people who really, really ought to just take a train to Tokyo and have kaiten sushi together one day.

Also, you can admit that you have some degree of a crush on him— him and that damned smile. Seriously, how could anyone not? You watch him sometimes during PE, eyeing the way he moves, and that guy can move, alright: he swerves so naturally it makes you swoon, jumps up and down with might and energy, can carry people around like they’re boxes of tissues. He’s swift but his movements aren’t frenetic; they’re controlled and he demonstrates such mastery over his body that no one who sees him wouldn’t be amazed. And he’s a nice guy— your parents have met him at least twice by chance, and they love him. Your father talks about how he’s a nice, handsome boy, and your mother mentions how he’d be an ideal son-in-law.

Poor Itadori, you think to yourself whenever they say it, giggling, Maybe they’ll let up soon enough, and they’ll realise that you’re just a really good friend.

You’re still not going to act on your feelings, though. You never will; you’re never going to act on anything. So you’ll fade away like a spectator, only trying to talk to him because guess what? You like it, you like talking to him and spending time with him even if you know he doesn’t like you back and sees you as just a friend. He’s still a fun guy and he always will be.

In a way it feels almost liberating, like a breath of fresh air from what happened a year ago: lighthearted crushes like these are a quintessential element of the teenage girl experience, and even if you’d always fit the bill for an ordinary teenage girl, another part of that would probably be not feeling like a normal teenage girl at all. So having this and not being hurt, having this and having fun— is great. Maybe if you get over him and start crushing on someone else, you’ll get to try having a boyfriend by the end of your last year in junior high. Sounds pretty neat if you do say so yourself. Having a partner sounds interesting.

“Itadori. Um… they’re going to release a new Jennifer Lawrence movie,” you say, standing behind him as the other friends around him stare at you. You aren’t too close to them, but hey— he was right. Some of them were pretty okay, cool people.

“Ah, yeah! I’m watching that too!”

“Oh, great! I mean, it’s right up your alley, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Wanna watch it together?” You blush and he continues, “I can bring the other guys too.” He gestures to the boys behind him with his thumb. You don’t know them very well— hell, they probably don’t know your name much less like you— but that’s okay. Itadori is a great guy to spend time with and whether it’s scream-singing karaoke in a language you can’t speak at his house, joking and horsing around while his grandfather frowns on the dining table, or learning how to cook meatballs he says are easy to make— you’re guaranteed to have fun with him no matter what.

“Sure.”

So: now you have a new guy you’re crushing on, because the last one took so long for you to get over, and you’re not sure if you’re completely over the last one, but you know you’re not going to talk to him that much anymore. And this new guy’s sweet, a hundred times better, and even if this all-in-one perfect guy doesn’t like you back, you’ll say it again: you think Itadori is awfully fun and nothing can change that.

Life is going pretty okay, you think. Life is becoming something you’re getting the hang of. Maybe, just maybe.

2-1-2017

“Guess I’m going back, now…” you sigh, zipping your luggage bag up. It’s a cold day outside— each time you press your fingers against a window, or even touch a door knob or any cold metal, it freezes you up. It’s just inconvenient, for now— if you could, you could even use cell manipulation to keep yourself warm, but that would just be too much effort wasted on too little of a cold winter day in early January.

New Year’s had just been a trip to the local shrine with them— this time Tsumiki had to come too, so she didn’t sabotage you and leave the two of you alone— and the days have gone by relatively peacefully. When your parents call you up they’re always relieved to just see you sitting on the bed or seated on their dining table eating meals with the two of them.

“You’ve still a few hours left here, don’t worry,” Tsumiki says, “Let’s make the most of it!”

Despite how awkward things were, you’d say you enjoyed being with Megumi and Tsumiki the past few days— mainly Megumi, though, because Tsumiki’s been conveniently leaving anytime you and Megumi are about to go anywhere together.

“Has anything interesting happened lately? Any action?” she asks.

“Pft— no, not really. Haven’t even given him the letter…”

“Aw…” she starts, “It’s alright if you don’t want to force yourself or anything, but I really think it would do him good to read it and that it’d do you even better if you passed it to him. He cares about you more than you think.”

“Uh-huh, that’s good to know,” you say, “At the very least, we’re friends, still. I’ll get over him eventually— I mean, I think I already have, since I’m not praying for him to be my boyfriend or something.”

“Oh…” she goes, “Well, whatever it is, I’m supporting you!” she smiles, patting you lightly on the head.

“Thanks.”

She leaves for something quick before Megumi arrives back, which you think does him good because he comes back with enough bruises and patches on his face to completely drive Tsumiki up the wall.

“Woah— you okay?” You rush to him. “What happened?”

He groans. He reminds you of a stray dog sometimes, really. Even more so now than before.

“S-sit down,” you say. He follows your instructions. “I’ll try to heal you, don’t worry.”

Since you discovered you had your cursed technique, you’ve only used it to heal others besides yourself once when you helped rid the cashier from the store of her bruises. It’s been half a year since then, and you’re still getting used to using it on yourself. Still, you let him sit on the sofa anyway.

“You probably shouldn’t. I can handle this on my own. If you do this to yourself then you’ll be over-exerting your body.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you chuckle, “Let me take care of you. And if I get a nosebleed or a headache, you can take care of me too. Heheh. That’s how things like this work, right? We take care of each other. So I can heal your wounds for you and you can take care of me if I get any of my cursed technique’s side-effects.”

You place your hand on his face for your cursed energy to get to him— you’d be able to do it without touching him, but the more the better— and you feel how his breath hitches when you do so. His skin is cold, and so very smooth, like the soft cotton blankets they have in their house. Slowly, you visualise his cells changing, shifting, until his skin looks pristine and good as new.

“…and…there.”

Then your nose bleeds. “Ah— hate it when this happens, honestly.”

“See? I told you not to strain yourself.” He gets up and places a tissue to your nose. “Lean your head back. Please.”

You follow his instructions as he did yours. “So what happened?” you ask, only able to view either his face or the ceiling. “How’d you get injured?”

“Nothing, just… I… got into a fight.”

“Wh— a fight? That’s dangerous!” you frown, “What happened in the first place? Someone picked on you?”

“No, they were just picking on someone else. People like that shouldn’t be able to trample on others.”

“So what are you, the police?” you argue, “You shouldn’t hurt people, nor should you let them hurt you. It’s bad for you, you know?”

“The basis of all kinds of human interaction isn’t being kind,” he claims, “It’s avoiding violating someone’s dignity, and I despise the people who ignore this rule just to make themselves feel powerful.”

And that pisses you off a little. Because for all his sister’s kindness and forgiving spirit, her brother cares less for being able to forgive others than for reading books until one AM in the morning or something along those lines.

The weather becomes that little bit colder and you go against him.

“Well, yeah— I hate bullies too. It’s just… ugh, why’d you have to get yourself hurt over this? It really isn’t good to have injuries. Who’s to say anything life-threatening won’t happen? It’s not like you’re invincible.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, seriously,” you retort, “Do you fight often or something? You know, no matter how many times you come out unscathed, it’s not like you’ll even be alive the next. What if these bullies aren’t the worst and there are some gangsters or something who kill you one day?”

“In my school?” he goes.

“Uh-huh— and you seriously sound kinda self-righteous, too. I mean, who gives you the right to judge? Just don’t be an asshole and you’ll be fine, and it’s not like being an asshole to the assholes is gonna do anything.”

“No, I just can’t handle people who step all over others.”

“Me neither, but why can’t you just be nice?” you go, “I don’t know, what do boys do? Talk to each other, make friends or something. Forgive each other. Just be nice. That’s what I think the basis of human interaction is. It’s helping people when you can, and stuff. That’s what the basis of life is, even.”

“You sound like Tsumiki.”

“Oh, well. I’d rather take that as a compliment even if it wasn’t intended to be by her own brother. I seriously used to think you were better than that, honestly. That sounds so emo— ‘Oh, the world isn’t inherently kind and so we should be tolerable to each other at best and horrible to the ones who aren’t tolerable at worst.’ What a joke.”

“Seriously?” he frowns, not raising his voice, but definitely angered, “You’re worse, really. You and Tsumiki and that hypocritical sense of forgiveness. It’s probably because you read too many fiction books last time.”

“I can’t believe I’m taking that from an antisocial guy who reads boring-ass non-fiction all the time and beats middle school bullies up to act high and mighty over them. You’re giving me secondhand embarrassment. You should be out with people our age buying sodas from vending machines or something— jeez, you’re just a fucking kid. Just be nice and save people if you have the power to— especially if you can do it without having to do things at your own expense. That’s the easiest way to do things in life. And who says you aren’t a hypocrite too? You think you’re some kind of judge in court or something—?”

“—You have cell manipulation, right? So use your brain! I’ve already told you that it’s pointless to save people. Good people who are too merciful to bad people are just as disgusting as bad people too prideful over themselves.”

“Ew— good and bad? What happened to just living life? Just live it, seriously, it’s not like everything can be split into two categories like that. You just sound so— ugh— stop being so immature—!”

“Megumi!” Tsumiki says when she opens the door. “[Name]! What happened? Did the two of you fight? Why were you fighting? What—!”

“No, no! Just bickering over something small,” you tell her, “I had a nose bleed all of a sudden.”

“Tch. Something small?” Megumi scoffs.

“Stop fighting, the two of you,” Tsumiki orders, her voice firm yet still soft and sweet.

The next few hours move painfully quietly.

3-1-2017

“I’m really sorry it had to be at midnight like this,” you say.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Tsumiki grins, “We wanted to come, anyway. We still have to give you a proper send-off.”

You breathe in. “…okay. I’ll visit again, I promise. Maybe next year, but at a better time, okay?”

“Alright, alright. Well— you’ve got to go now,” Tsumiki says, hugging you. You hear her sniffling even though you can’t see her face.

“Okay. Bye, Megumi. Bye, Tsumiki.”

“Bye, [Name]! Take care of your health, okay? We should stick together no matter what, the three of us.”

You’re still a little angry at Megumi. You haven’t passed him the letter.

You’ll live. You hope you can, at least. You’re better off not ending up with or confessing to a guy who thinks like he does.

It’s for Tsumiki, you tell yourself. And it grounds you.

“…I will.”

“…bye,” Megumi says, avoiding eye contact.

And as you get on the train and they’re waving you off, you should have taken a picture, or a video, or something. Something to keep that moment in place. There’s Tsumiki— smiley Tsumiki— with her signature warm grin and the faintest of tears in her eyes, with her hand raised up to wave at you. Then Megumi— frowny Megumi— older and taller and angry at you.

You really should have kept things there, or apologised to her again for anything and everything, apologised to both of them for any trouble you’ve caused them, or thanked them a trillion times over, but you didn’t.

And you regret this forever. Because this is the last time you see Fushiguro Tsumiki, the girl who changed the trajectory of your life.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

73 notes · View notes

ratsvoid · 2 years

Text

enjoy this little oneshot :D

(character explaination in the tags)

Jessie stepped inside the doors of the restaurant. Greeted by the smell of fish and other assortments of seafood. The rain continued to poor outside, streaks of water catching itself on the window; proceeding to race each other to the bottom.

Jessie anxiously looked around, the host spotted them from the check in area.

"Are you here for someone?" the woman asked, kindly.

"Uhm, yes" Jessie answered, walking over to the booth.

"What was their name?" she asked.

"It should be Jimmy?" he answered.

She smiled at him softly, then led him back to the seating area with a wave of her hand, "follow me."

He followed her and before long he spotted Jimmy. He was wearing a buttoned up pale blue shirt and black jacket. A awkward smile appeared on his lips when he spotted Jessie.

Jessie sat down in the small booth, across from Jimmy. A water sat by Jimmy's left hand.

"Hi" they said as they sat down.

"Hey, how are you?" Jimmy asked.

I hate small talk...

"As fine as I can be after all that happened." He responded, nervously cracking his knuckles.

Jimmy was put into silence at that. He took his gaze away from Jessie.

"Uhm, anyways, how are you? Have you... gotten any better?" Jessie asked.

"Yeah- yeah. Uh I've been seeing someone for the- thoughts..." he replied awkwardly.

Jessie was standing in the waiting room of the hospital. Tension was in the air as the disaster roared on. All people of all walks of life were trapped in this room. Radiation threatened them at the door if they wished to leave.

All of them feared the death that was looming in the air around them. While some embraced the thought of death. One of those people being Jimmy.

Jimmy and Jessie didn't know each other. But both of them were forced together in this clean, nauseating, waiting room. When it came down to it, Jimmy would have rather killed himself than face, what felt like, all of their inevitable deaths.

Jimmy had tried to overdose.

Jessie stopped him.

It has been six months since they were trapped in the hospital.

"That's good, I'm glad," Jessie replied.

"I just want to say that this is completely platonic..." Jimmy started quickly.

"I wasn't in the right... state of mind... when I asked you out. And I didn't know how young you were," he laughed awkwardly.

Jessie sat by Jimmy as he recovered.

"Have you ever had fish before?" Jimmy looked over to Jessie, speaking in a slur.

"No? I haven't actually. Why?" he asked, puzzled by the sudden question.

"After all this- We should go on a date. You can try some fish!" Jimmy explained.

"Okay... Sure," Jessie shook his head, laughing a bit.

"Oh, good" Jessie physically eased.

"I was going to bring that up," he smiled at Jimmy.

"But we can be friends right?" Jimmy asked.

"Sure, we can be friends," Jessie replied.

A waiter came by their table.

"Are you both ready to order?" She asked.

"Yes I'll have the (im to lazy to search up fish)" Jimmy said, glancing at his menu.

Jessie hadn't even looked at the menu and had no idea what to order.

"And for you?" the waiter looked over to Jessie.

"Uhm, I'll have fish fingers, oh and a water," Jessie said quickly.

"Alright, will that be all?" the waiter wrote down their orders.

"Believe so," Jimmy answered.

The waiter walked away, taking the menus from both of them.

"Fish fingers?" Jimmy looked over to Jessie, a confused smile on his face.

"I didn't look at the menu, and I haven't had fish before," Jessie replied with a little laugh.

"I forgot about that," Jimmy smiled.

"Jessie?" Jimmy paused.

"Yeah?" Jessie looked at him.

"Thank you for saving my life,"

"You're welcome, Jimmy"

0 notes

mcu-coworkers · 2 years

Text

I’ve Gotcha

Summary: Hal gets his girl back and makes up for lost time.

Pairings: Hal Jordan X reader

Word count: 3,698

A/n: In favor of a friend I have expanded my writer horizons and made it to the land of DC, DCAU to be more specific. You might see more of this right now. I am just fully going with what my brain decides to give me lol. As always I hope you guys enjoy my work!xx

(Not my gif)

It was a beautiful day in Star City, the perfect day for a picnic.

Hal had been away on a mission for some time but he was finally back home, with you.

He wanted to make the most of the day he already missed you so much.

As you both sat down under a tree you were laughing at something he said, all he could do was admire you.

Your laugh was music to his ears, that smile the most beautiful thing on the planet and your eyes.

So full of happiness and love for him, “Hal?” you said as he laid his head on your lap.

Not speaking, he just raised his eyebrows and waited for you to continue.

“Why did you let me go?” you asked, caught off guard he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

He wanted to say what but the weight on his chest stopped him from being able to speak.

Opening his eyes he realized you were gone.

“Hal!” you screamed out again.

Sitting up he looked for you but the park was gone, he was back in Gotham where the portal closed and he was a second too late.

Suddenly he jumps awake, once again trying to catch his breath as the sheer coat of sweat begins to form on his body.

Yanking off the covers he dangles his feet over the bed and rubs his eyes.

It had been six months since he lost you.

His phone began to buzz, it was barry. He called everyday but never this many times. Twenty two missed calls and it was four in the morning.

Hal was ready to ignore it when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Walking to the door he opened it to reveal Barry.

“Wow you're not naked.” he said, last time he barged in Hal was down to his boxers. That was almost a year ago.

“Rooms cold,” he said as he walked back into the house. He became accustomed to only leaving the house for green lantern duties and groceries; everything else didn't matter to him.

“How have you been bud?” Barry was truly worried for his best friend; he hadn't been the same since he lost you.

“Oh you know, work, home, work, home.” Hal said, truly he wished Barry would leave him alone so he could go back to dreaming about you.

“ I uh I have some news for you Hal.” Barry said, looking at him cautiously as he stepped closer.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” he said, taking a seat on the couch.

“We wanted to wait until we were sure but, we really think she's not gone.” Barry said, and for the first time Hal looked at him for longer than a second.

Barry took that as a sign to keep going, “It's a long shot, but Zatana has been reaching out searching for her, and she thinks she found her.” he finished.

Hal stood up quickly as tears began to build up in his eyes, “Please don’t, Please don't give me hope.” he said as the tears began to fall.

“We need you to bring her back buddy, she needs you.” Barry said as he embraced his friend and let him cry on his shoulder.

“So what do you say?” Barry asked.

“I'm in.” Hal whispered as he pulled away and for the first time in months he smiled at Barry.

Hugging him once more it was Barry’s turn to shed a tear, Hal deserved this and he’d make sure he got it.

“First you gotta shave, and shower. You cannot greet your girl like that.” Barry said, chuckling.

By the time they both made it to the watchtower Hal was wide awake.

Everyone turned to the boom tube upon their arrival. For the first time Batman smiled at the sight of Hal.

“It’s nice to have you back Hal.” he said as he put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s nice to be back bats, so what's the plan?” Hal asked, looking around the room.

Many familiar faces, mostly people who specialized in the magic area, made sense.

That's when Zatanna began to speak, “well for starters I ‘ll explain and then ask some questions okay?” she asked before starting.

Giving her a simple nod she began.

“We all know that the only things that can open boom tubes are mother or father boxes, the only human capable being cyborg.” she said looking around for people to agree.

She continued, “ Before the light attacked us, Y/n was learning new spells. She didn't tell me much other than the fact that these spells would come in handy when we needed to get somewhere.” she said, pulling up images of a book.

“She said the book was dangerous, but it had what she needed. Then the light attacked and she was gone but there was no body so she's not dead. She's in another universe kind of gone and I know at the start it sounds like a long shot but here me out.” she said looking at Hal.

“The first month I would hear her calling me randomly throughout the day, I thought I was going crazy, then the dreams began and I started seeing her, not as a memory we had never been to these places before she had never looked like this.” she said, trying to grasp for words to explain.

Leaning forward in his seat, Hal's heart began racing out of his chest, “So what are you saying Z?” he knew Barry said there was a chance but Zatanna makes it sound like it's definite.

“ I‘m saying that she’s stuck in another universe and I have proof that she is but I just can’t reach her alone. We tried, for the past three months we tried, I can see her but she can’t see or hear me so we’re hoping that the missing piece to the puzzle is you.” she said to him.

“So what do we do now?” he asked, he was prepared to do anything to bring you back.

“Well first we test the theory, she thinks its over that she’s stuck in there for good so maybe if you call out to her it’ll be enough to bring her strength back.” M’gann said standing.

“Well then what are we waiting for?” Hal said standing up.

Quickly they went to a lab where he laid down and got ready.

“ I ‘m gonna mind link all of us as an anchor and Z will take you where you need to go.” M’gann said before beginning to focus.

“Good luck.” Zatanna said before beginning her spell.

Closing his eyes Hal focused on the images of you as he fell into a daze, it felt as if his soul was leaving his body as he searched through spheres full of life, finally he eyes landed on a red one and he knew it had to be you.

Entering the sphere he went back to his regular form and took in the scene before him.

The ground was water, a red horizon surrounded him, the perfect sunset.

At the center of it all was a bench and there was you. Sitting perfectly still with your back facing him.

He could hardly believe it, until then he was frozen in place, then he remembered he need to reach out to you.

“Y/n?” he asked barely above a whisper.

Turning your head you quickly stood up, “Hal.” you said as your eyes began brimming with tears.

“Baby-” he didn't even finish as he opened his arms waiting for you to run into them and when you did he held on tighter than he possibly could.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” you asked, breathing in his scent and taking him in all his glory.

“ I came to bring you home, we’re gonna get you out of here doll.” he said smiling, suddenly yours dropped.

“Z needs you to open a portal here and she’ll connect to one of ours so you can come home.” he said, making sure not to forget a single detail.

Backing away from him, “ I can’t.” you said, dropping his hands. “ I didn't open this portal on accident Hal, If I try to leave he’ll come for me.”

“ I ‘ll protect you, you know that.” he said pleadingly, reaching for you again, he stopped when you took another step back.

“He won’t let me go back, Hal.” you whispered, the fear was evident in your eyes.

“Who? Where is he? Tell me what universe this is and I‘ll come get you.” he asked, anger was beginning to run through his veins.

“It's not another universe, It's another dimension, Apokolips. Hal you have to go, please.” you said as the water began to rise.

“ I‘m getting you out of here.” he yelled, vines began appearing and tying your legs and hands.

“It’s too late for me, I love you Hal.” was all you got to say before the darkness took you away and Hal was pushed out.

Waking up from the trance Hal sat up immediately, scaring Zatanna and M’gann in the process.

“Did you see her?” they both asked.

“She's in another dimension, Apokolips, someone has her trapped there.” he said getting up from the medical bed. The whole team was there now.

“Wait, where are you going?” Barry asked, following him out of the room.

“To bring her back, I‘m not leaving her there.” he said as he was about to take off Barry held him down.

“Wait Hal, remember the test run? Tell us what you saw and what she said and we can work through it together.” Barry said, hoping it would calm him down.

“You didn't see her Barry,” he said, his eyes pooling with tears, “the fear in her eyes, she was scared to even come near me, scared that whatever got her was gonna get me too.” he said the image of your fearful eyes trapped in his head.

“ I need to save her from whoever did this to her but she’s too scared to open the portal.” Hal said, shaking his head.

“So then we open the portal from our side and get ready to fight, at least until we can find her and bring her back.” Zatanna said entering the room.

“She’s raised me like a sister since my dad gave himself to Fate. I‘ll be damned if I lose her too.” Zatanna said.

“Okay great, so we all agree it's all or nothing?” Barry said, looking at them as they both nodded.

“Open the portal Z.” Hal said as he prepared himself for whatever happened next.

Walking back into the meeting room Hal was met with Dr.Fate, and constantine.

“There you are now, let's get this show on the road.” Constantine said, bringing out a book of spells.

Slowly the three of them began chanting while everyone else used memories of you to call your attention from the other side of the portal.

Slowly the portal began to open, it was almost like what Hal had seen when he went looking for you.

But this looked a lot less peaceful.

“We have to go in.” he said, quickly Barry stopped him.

“We can't if we do that's a one way ticket and you won't be able to help her. We have to stick to the plan dude.” Barry said as he squeezed his friend's shoulder.

Looking back at the portal it began to become more clear and he could finally see you, but you were being held by those black vines the same way he last saw you.

In Front of you was a tall thing, it was nowhere near a man, he was a monster with red glowing eyes floating off the ground.

“Y/n!” Hal yelled out, making both of you turn your heads in the direction of the portal.

“She’s got to hurry it up, we can't hold it open for long.” Constantine said, trying to focus on the spell.

Hope ran through your veins as you saw Hal standing on the other side waiting for you, this was your chance it was all or nothing.

“They can’t save you, not from me, not from yourself.” he said looking back at you, you’d learned his name to be Darkseid.

Slowly the vines holding you down began tightening around your neck.

Turning back to look at Hal one last time, enough was enough.

Focusing all your strength you forced a blast strong enough to destroy the vines and blast Darksied in the process.

Dropping to the floor you tried to balance yourself as you looked at the portal once more and started running.

“That’s my girl.” Hal whispered, his heart was racing almost as fast as Barry could run the closer you got.

From where he stood Darkseid sent parademons to try and stop you.

Dodging their attacks you kept running as fast as you could, one of them managed to throw a boulder your way knocking you over.

Feeling the blood rush out of your head and a pain in your leg you looked up again, you were close.

Standing up once more you began limping as fast as you could, the closer you got the more you could see Hal's arms opening for you.

Tears began forming in your eyes as you took one last leap and finally felt the comfort of his arms as he pulled you as far away from the portal as he could.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay now, I've gotcha.” he said as he pulled your face into his hands.

Turning your head back to the portal you realized the parademons stopped all movement, Darkseid at the center.

“Close the portal.” you said, Darkseid didn't say a word he just raised his arm and pointed directly at you with a smirk.

Slowly the portal closed.

Finally you felt as if you could actually breathe.

Looking back at Hal you smiled, he was wearing his suit but he had taken his mask off to see you better.

His hair was grown out, he had bags under his eyes and you could tell he hadn't shaved until recently.

He was just as handsome as ever, Your Hal.

“We need to get that checked out.” Barry said, interjecting in your little moment.

Hal turned to his best friend with slight annoyance, when was he not a cock block? But he was right.

Hesitantly Hal let go of you and let Batman take you to a lab.

Z followed behind closely.

Before you Batman started you hugged her tightly, “ I knew you could do it, thank you Z.” you said, she hugged you back tightly as she too tried to hold back her own tears.

“ I couldn't have done it without you, you’ll still be my teacher right?” she asked, she always worried you’d step down after this.

“Of course, I wouldn't miss seeing you become the best of us.” you said as you finally took a seat.

“So how did you end up in that place?” Bats asked, you weren't surprised the best detective never stopped.

“ I was practicing some new spells and then suddenly I was pulled into the portal and I ended up on Apokolips and he wanted to use what I knew. He kept me trapped in a prison saying the right moment would come so I tried reaching out to Z when he was gone and it worked.” you said smiling at you apprentice.

“What was his name?” Batman asked as he patched up your wounds.

“Darkseid.” you whispered, chills going up your spine as you remembered his last words to you.

“Alright, are you all done here? I think it's time we go home.” Hal said, coming up behind you and leaning over your shoulder.

Smiling you turned your head to see his side profile while he looked at bats, his mask was back on but there was still a whole lot to admire.

“Fine, we can pick this up tomorrow.” Batman said as both him and Z walked out of the room.

Stepping off the table Hal brought his hand to your side as the two of you walked side by side towards the boom tube.

By now everyone was gone, Hal kind of insinuated that he wanted some alone time with you and of course everyone understood.

Once you made it home you made it a priority to shower first, the warm water relaxed you after six months without it.

Stepping out you grabbed one of Hal's white shirts and put it on smiling at his familiar scent.

His shirt went past your thighs and laid right on top of the cut Batman patched up it lightly grazed it as you walked back into your bedroom.

Walking in you chuckled at the unmade bed, “ I swear I make it everyday.” Hal said, walking in with a cup of cocoa.

“Oh yeah? And what else did you do while I was gone?” you said as he put the hot drink down on the nightstand.

Reaching for you again on instinct your arms went to the back of his head and his went to your waist.

“Missed you.” he said as he lightly pecked your lips, resting his head on your shoulder after taking in the smell of your shampoo.

You could feel him smiling into your neck, “Show me.” you whispered into his ear sending shivers down his spine.

Standing up straight he looked at you with a worried face, “Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt-” he tried to say but you cut him off pulling you down into a deep kiss.

Any hesitation Hal had before immediately disappeared as he picked you up deepening the kiss.

Moving to the bed Hal laid you down gently pulling away to take off his shirt, impatiently you pulled him down by his dog tags for another kiss as your hands moved down to his belt.

Getting his pants off you moaned when you massaged his bulge through his boxers.

“Told ya.” Hal said breathlessly as he smiled down as he took his shirt off of you to reveal your naked body beneath him.

“So damn perfect and just for me.” he said as he pushed you further up the bed and began kissing your neck moving down to your chest.

“Hal.” you moaned when he reached one your breast.

“Tell me what you want baby.” he said as he looked up at you.

“ I want you to fuck me, hard.” you said bringing his face back up to yours and pumping his member in your hand.

Kissing you to muffle his groans Hal didn't take a second longer to comply with you.

Slowly he pushed himself in letting you adjust to his size as he bowed his head into your shoulder.

Giving one last push he was fully in and you moaned into his ear, “Good girl, you take me so well baby.” he said smiling as he began pumping himself into you slowly.

Arching your back you gripped his biceps not knowing what else to do with the amount of pleasure Hal was giving you.

“Faster Hal.” you moaned, gasping when he pulled your legs up to his shoulder picking up his pace and going deeper all at once making you see stars as your moans grew louder and louder.

“That's it baby let yourself go for me.” he groaned as he took one of your breasts in his hands massaging your nipple.

Quickly you began to feel yourself building up under his touch, “Hal I‘m so close.” you moaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“Me too baby, fuck.” he said as you tightened around him encouraging him to go faster.

And just like that you felt euphoric as you came undone and he fucked you mercilessly through your high.

He was beginning to lose his pattern and you could tell he was close too.

Kissing the side of his neck all the way up to his earlobe you whispered, “ Come on baby, do it for me.”

And just like that Hal filled you up pumping into you slowly switching from fucking to wrapping your legs around his waist and making love to you.

Pulling himself up he looked at your face and admired every single feature that was being lit by the moon.

Until then he hadn’t noticed it got dark out.

Opening your eyes you massaged the back of his head and met his eyes.

Smiling you bit your lip to muffle your own moans as he leaned in to lay soft kisses all over your face.

“ I love you so much Hal.” you said as you felt him smiling into his kisses.

“ I love you so much more baby.” he said back as he felt you tightening around him once more.

“Mmmmmh debatable.” you replied as you felt yourself coming undone again.

Chuckling at your response Hal just held down your hips with one hand and put the other beside your head.

Just looking at your state brought him close to the edge.

“You gonna cum again for me baby?” he asked, holding your hips tighter.

“Yes.” you moaned, closing your eyes, your head going deeper into the pillow.

“Look at me.” he said softly.

You moaned at his request, feeling yourself get closer and closer.

“Look. At. Me” he said again this time you did, your lust filled eyes met his and this time you both came undone together your soft moans being the only sound in the room.

You kept your legs wrapped around him as you both rode out your highs together Hal leaning his forehead against yours.

“Guess you really did miss me after all.” you whispered, smiling making him open his eyes with a grin.

“ I‘m gonna have to go warm up that cocoa again.” he said as he kissed your forehead and got up from the bed, dressed himself and going back to the kitchen.

Smiling to yourself, you put his shirt back on and waited for him to come back, walking was not an option your legs offered thanks to Hal Jordan.

#hal jordan #green lantern #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan x y/n #dc comics #dceu #dceu x reader #dc #harold jordan

212 notes · View notes

madame-wilsonn · 2 years

Text

Take me back to Hawaii

MASTERLIST

Request: "Do you want to tell me what happened?" with Lenny Miller - @look-at-the-soul

Summary: Lenny has a long day at work but you help him feel better.

A/N: yay finally starting to post those celebration requests!! I haven’t written in a while and I feel a bit...rusty but I still hope you enjoy it!! Also, first time writing for my darling Lenny, and I’m very excited! And just so you know, it has no reference to the movie so even without watching it, you can understand! All you need to know is that Lenny is a CIA agent!

Warnings: mentions of injury and a lot of fluff!!

Word count: 1,846 words

Collapsing on his desk chair, Lenny let out a deflated sigh. He passed a hand over his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, the tension from a day of endless meetings visible on his features.

As much as he was passionate about his job, days like this really made him reconsider his career choices. Lenny leaned back, his gaze falling on the small frame on his desk. It was a picture of the both of you in Hawaii. You had gone there to celebrate the New Year, convincing your workaholic husband to take a week off to relax. A subtle grin made its way on his face at the memory.

Lenny reached for his phone, clicking on your name when it appeared on the screen.

After a few seconds, a cheerful voice greeted him, only making his smile grow bigger.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned with his feeble tone.

He could have told you. He could have said “no” and explained everything wrong with today. But instead, Lenny sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice…” your husband rubbed his eyes, quickly changing the topic of the conversation. “Are you home already?”

“No. Alicia wanted to try this new Italian restaurant so we went with her. She’s been talking about it for at least two weeks and…”

But Lenny wasn’t listening anymore. Coming home to you was the only thing that kept him going ever since his boss told him their last mission was a complete failure. And now, even that was snatched away from him. He knew how childish it was of him. But he longed for a quiet night in with you, watch some stupid show that makes you giggle and hold onto you for a bit.

“Lenny? Honey?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. I…uh, I have to go now but have fun with your friends. I’ll see you when you get home,” he cut the conversation short, trying to hide his disappointment.

Lenny dropped the phone on his desk, closing his eyes. He desperately needed a warm shower and to lay in bed. But he knew he was still far from going home.

A knock on the door made him jump, tearing him away from his reverie. Lenny took a second to pass a hand in his hair, clearing his throat as he allowed his colleague in.

“Boss wants to see us in his office in five minutes.”

“Yep. I’ll be right there.”

The agent nodded before closing the door again. Lenny took a sip from his coffee and checked his watch. It was already half-past six. For what seemed the hundredth time, he sighed, his gaze lingering on your photo. Gosh, what he would do to go back there…

Lenny cut off the car’s contact, staring blankly at the wall. An agent was in the hospital, severely injured. Because of the orders, he had given. His boss said she should be okay but it didn’t remove the guilt of sending one of his colleagues into a trap.

He walked into the building, dragging his feet to the elevator as he checked his phone. He considered calling you for a second but decided not to. You were having some well-deserved fun with your work friends, he wasn’t going to bother you with his own issues. He knew you wouldn’t mind. You’d listen to him for how long it was necessary, probably even propose to come home early. But it wasn’t fair.

Instead, Lenny considered the idea of taking a hot shower and going straight to bed. Maybe treat himself with a glass of whiskey before that.

It would have been the perfect evening a few years ago. Now, coming home to an empty apartment filled him with a dreary sensation.

Grabbing his keys, he opened the door mechanically, still checking his emails. But as soon as he stepped into the hall, Lenny frowned.

The supposedly empty house smelled like spices and a faint jazzy tune could be heard. For a second he wondered if he was so exhausted his brain was making things up. Nobody was home. He knew that.

Maybe he was just asleep. Maybe he was still in his office, resting his eyes after one too many meetings. Maybe his subconscious realized he would not be getting any peace today so he might as well create some.

“Hey, you’re home!” Lenny blinked a few times as you appeared before him, a bright smile on your face. “I was starting to get worried!”

“W-what are you doing here? Didn’t you have dinner with your friends?”

Your husband was completely lost. He was so tired his brain couldn’t function properly. To the point where he wondered if, during a second of inattention, you mentioned coming home early.

“I did but I chose not to go,” you replied simply, helping him out of his coat. “You didn’t sound too good on the phone earlier.”

Lenny sighed a familiar pinch of guilt in his chest. He was thrilled you were home but he also knew the only reason you came back was because of him. Although his night would have been terrible if you were out, at least you would be having fun.

“You didn’t have to do that. I just had a long day, I’ll be fine.”

For a moment, you kept quiet, working on undoing his tie and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Lenny just observed you, inhaling the faint scent of your perfume as you leaned in.

“Honestly, I really wanted to come home. It’s Friday night and all I want is a quiet night in,” you shrugged simply. “Besides, I wasn’t going to miss a perfect evening with you to listen to Alicia complain about that ex of hers.”

A light chuckle escaped Lenny’s lips as he followed you to the kitchen.

“But I have to say, all that talk about the Italian restaurant really made me crave some pizza,” you pointed towards the oven to show the meal you had prepared. “Even had the time to make the dough myself!”

Your obvious cheerfulness seemed to rub off on your husband who managed to tease you. “As long as it doesn’t end like the french fries!”

You gasped dramatically “It was just one time! And I was distracted, you know that!”

Lenny hummed, raising his eyebrows. You shook your head as you realized he was making fun of you and threw a towel at him.

“Out of my kitchen! Now!” you ordered but you couldn’t help the grin on your face. Your husband lifted his hands in surrender, walking over to you.

“Alright, that was mean. I’m sure your pizza is going to be delicious,” he rubbed his thumb over your cheek where he noticed some flour. ”Even better than the one we ate in Venice.”

He finished his sentence by lightly dropping his lips on the tip of your nose.

“Do I have some time to take a quick shower before we eat, chef?”

You nodded, checking on the slightly golden crust. He left the room while you grabbed glasses and plates to set the table.

By the time Lenny came back, you were getting the pizzas out of the oven, humming along with the record player.

You had a lovely dinner. Much better than if you had gone out, that you were sure of. Lenny was quiet. He asked you to tell him about your day, about anything. Just to hear you talk.

It was an unusual habit he had. He was never the chatty kind but after long days, he got somehow even more still. The only thing he found to lift his spirit was to listen to you. He adored watching you get lost in explanations, and make the most bizarre facial expressions while moving your hands around. It always made him smile, no matter how drained he felt.

After your husband took the time to praise your culinary skills, you were ready to start cleaning everything up. But Lenny’s hand stopped you from moving.

“Do you mind leaving this until tomorrow? We can go watch that show of yours you like so much.”

You were about to remind him he hated it but you changed your mind. Maybe it was the way he squeezed your hand, almost desperately. Or maybe it was the pleading look in his eyes. You realized today had probably been much more than just a “long day at work” and at this moment, he needed you.

As soon as his back hit the soft mattress, Lenny closed his eyes, allowing his tensed muscles to relax. He was aware the show had started when he heard the now familiar voices.

It didn’t take him more than a second to wrap an arm around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. Your hand found his soft, raven locks as you fell into a comfortable silence.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" you whispered. You knew your husband well enough to ask him about an issue rather than wait for him to come to you. He didn’t have to talk about it but you always made sure to allow him to vent if needed.

You felt his warm breath against the skin of your neck as he tightened his hold on your body.

“The last mission I organized failed. And an agent was injured,” he blurted out after a moment of quiet. “She should get by fine but…I’m still responsible. I rushed into it and didn’t plan well enough.”

“I don’t think that’s fair, darling. That agent trusted you and she followed your orders because she knew it was the best solution at the time. If she had noticed something wrong, she probably would have mentioned it to you. And the same goes for all your other colleagues. You did what you had to do with the information in your possession,” you spoke softly, trying to find the right words to comfort him. “And you have a dangerous job, there are always risks. Maybe if you hadn’t been in charge, the damage could have been worse.”

Lenny hummed, letting your words sink in. Although he couldn’t help the guilt, the feeling seemed to ease a little after pondering on what you said.

“I just…I think I’m tired,” he added hesitantly. “I have been working too much and I can’t anymore.”

You gazed at him, surprised. He was never one to admit his limits. He enjoyed feeling like he was invincible like nothing could stop him. It only made his statement even more serious. Your heart clenched in your chest as you realized the amount of pressure he must have been under.

“Take a break if you need it, it’s okay,” you assure him after kissing his forehead.

You felt him nod against you, nuzzling closer. The only sounds in the room were the various characters bickering on the television along with your rhythmic breathing. After a few minutes, you were convinced Lenny had fallen asleep but you heard him mumble:

“What do you think about going to Hawaii?”

#mar tag ♡#friends #lenny miller #lenny miller x reader #anna (2019)#anna's grand ball #500 followers celebration #anna’s fics

335 notes · View notes

wwilloww · 3 years

Text

sh. | chapter eleven | ot7

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 6k WARNINGS AND TAGS reference to reader with she/her pronouns. kissing. food play. discussions of sexual boundaries/expectations. discussions of kink culture.

← || series m.list || →

AN: this chapter has been so long in the making and i couldn't have done it without the possums sprinting with me or without the support of @calixwrites @xjoonchildx @thatlongspringnight and @illneverrecover who helped me pull together the mess that is this chapter. thank you so much to them. if you enjoy this chapter, i'd love to hear from you!

CHAPTER ELEVEN: PERSEPHONE'S TABLE

“I’m in.”

Seven pairs of eyes widen as you stand in the door, your red dress flowing around you, hair a little ruffled from the wind, face stinging from the cold. You look like a spirit of winter, flown in from the storm.

“Are you okay—” Hoseok begins to say, but Jungkook quickly stands up to speak.

“Fuck yeah,” Jungkook interrupts, clapping his hands together. “I mean, I thought we were going to eat first,” he adds with a sigh, looking longingly at the food at the table. “But me too. I’m in.”

“There’s no doubt I’m in,” Jimin adds. “I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to get my hands on seven lovely people.”

A giggle escapes Yoongi, a sound so foreign that you have to double check it's him. “This is a lot easier than expected—” Easy is not the word you would use to describe the last 36 hours. “But I think it’s pretty obvious where I stand considering I suggested it. Namjoon?”

Namjoon looks a little flustered that he’s been called on, but nonetheless, nods. “I think… I thought it through—” His eyes flick up to yours. “And think this might be a good idea. After all…” When he begins to trail off, you nod encouragingly, goading him on. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex. And more than that, being cramped up here with you lot—” someone snorts at the word cramped. “—has brought back things I thought were in the past.” Before you can linger on what that might mean, Namjoon is already spiraling off in another direction, “And I’ve read! I’ve read so many things about the multiplicity of romance and, ahem, sex, and how the capitalisticstructureofoursociety really reliesuponthetwofamilyunit to produce workers and continue the cycle of poverty, and polyamory—” his eyes widen at the word. Is what’s happening between all of you polyamory? That sounds so… official. “Or just sex, sex with multiple partners can be an active way of pushing against the patriarchy and impending capitalistic doomsday.” And then more quietly, as if he’s only just realized that he is in a room with seven people but needs to get the final word in: “Plus, the stigma against multipartner sex is historical, not biological.”

“Reading is nice,” Jimin says. “But you can’t have a book tell you what you ought to do in this situation.

Namjoon nods. “Yeah, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Well. I do, um, want this.” And then a second time, but bolder: “I do. Really. It’s… important to me.”

Yoongi and Jimin nod eagerly. Taehyung seems contemplative as he reads Namjoon’s features carefully. Jin keeps glancing at the food. Jungkook, who looks a little nervous at first, whispers something to his neighbor, Jimin, a big dopey grin spreading across his face. Hoseok, however, holds a blank expression.

Taehyung looks to Jin. “Well, we’re both in, based on our discussion last night.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Uh, yes, of course we’re in. But I just thought we would eat first before all of this.”

That’s seven yes’s. And one unanswered. Seven pairs of eyes turn their attention to the one man who has been silent since you entered the room: Hoseok.

The man stands there, hands in his pockets. Out of all of you, Hoseok has always been the one to laugh first, crack a joke first, get on the dance floor first. And yet in this moment, he’s the only one who holds back. The look on his face is one that you know well, if not frequently: that expression he gets when he’s entirely focused. To an outsider, it might look like anger. But to one who knows, they understand that his features are drawn close in perfect concentration, his eyes locking on the center of his attention, his mouth pursing into a set line. It was one of the many things that you loved about him, these moments of intense focus that sat so opposite to his usually playful mannerisms.

Shouldn’t it be you in his place, hesitating, worrying that this step is going to fuck everything and everyone over? Instead, it feels like the cold wind from outside has cleared out your insides and left you with nothing but want.

When Hoseok still hasn’t answered, Jimin pulls him aside to whisper something in his ear, his hand stroking over Hoseok’s back in a sign of comfort. You try to make out what he is saying with no luck.

“I can’t—” Hoseok says, looking directly at you, heartbreak written across his face. And he turns on his heel and steps out of the room.

You watch the house of cards you’d carefully built up in your mind tumble to the ground, unaware that failure was even an option. If all eight of you weren’t in, none of you were in. But you didn’t imagine it going this way. Not really. There was some part of you that thought it could just be this easy, really, this easy, that everyone would say yes and all of you would just fall into it in one swift, simple motion. That all the tension that’s been living in this house, strung between the lot of you would simply cease, like it was cut through with a hot knife.

A collective gasp shudders through the group. Your friends turn to one another, expressions of concern dancing across their features.

“What—” Jungkook begins, his brow furrowing as he watches Hoseok disappear. “Is he okay?” The others mumble in alarm.

“I’ll take care of it,” you say, though, truly you have no idea how you’ll take care of this.

You follow Hoseok out of the room, but he seems so lost in his thoughts that it’s not until you catch up to him as he’s crossing the glass bridge and reach for his shoulder that he stops.

At first he seems surprised that it’s you, but he wraps you up in a hug that shocks you. It’s not until a moment later that you wrap your arms around him too and squeeze back.

“What’s going on?” you murmur into his chest.

He’s quiet for a moment before answering, pulling back and swiping a hand through his hair.

“It’s just ridiculous. The whole thing’s ridiculous.”

Ridiculous? Just last night he had said it hadn’t been so wild of an idea.

“What? I thought you said—”

“I remember what I said and I just, I got to thinking today and I’m not going to make you do something horrific like this.”

“Horrific? What the hell do you mean?”

Horrific is the last word you would use to describe any of this.

“I’m not going to force you to become some sort of concubine to seven men,” he says.

You laugh, thinking he can’t be serious. But when you see the frown on his face, you quiet. He is serious.

“Is that what you think this is?” you ask softly.

“Of course that’s what this is—”

“No—”

“Of course that’s what this is!” He grabs your shoulders and stares into your eyes. “But the thing is, you don’t have to do it just because you think that they’re, what? Horny after all this time stuck in quarantine? Like you’re just supposed to go along with it, like some kind of sex slave or something, reduced to nothing but a set of holes to be used by seven horny men?! What are you going to do? Lay around the house all day just waiting… waiting to be….used? Like a sexual vending machine?”

“Hoseok.”

It’s clear he’s spent an absurd amount of time in his head, sinking deeper and deeper into his anxiety. And while the image he’s painted, well, it might not be the reality of the situation, it’s also not the worst idea he’s ever had. You, at the whim and will of seven beautiful men. Still, the man needs some course correction. He’s still gripping your shoulders, and you gently wrangle out of his grasp to step closer to him. You reach out and place a hand on his arm, trying to bring him back to you, to this, to reality.

“No, no.”

“No, really, they’ve pressured you into this and…” His brow furrows, as if he’s hearing his own words for the first time and speculating at their reality.

“Hoseok.” He finally stops, his lips setting into a firm line. “No one is pressuring me.”

He frowns at you, contemplating what you’ve said. Gaging whether to trust it or not.

“What’s really going on up here?” you say, tapping on his forehead. But when you begin to withdraw your hand, he grabs your wrist and presses your palm to his face.

You blink.

He’s warm beneath your touch, but you can feel a slight tremor when he speaks. But now, now, all there is are his eyes, brown and wide and searching.

“It’s happening so fast,” he says hurriedly, the words whispered into the ever narrowing space between you two. “I can’t keep up.”

“What’s happening so fast?”

“Everything. Everyone. I thought—I thought I had more time.”

“More time for what? Nothing’s ending tonight, Hoseok.” He flinches under the formal name as if he’s finally heard it, but it’s too late to correct. If anything, tonight feels like a grand beginning. For you, tonight is the opening of the door to a whole new world. But when he looks at you, you know what you’ve said isn’t true for him. Loss, heartbreak, flutters behind the warmth in his eyes. He’s losing something. Someone.

Still, he shakes himself out of his thoughts. His gaze comes back to you.

“You’re sure there’s no one, no expectations or anything, that others are putting on you—You’re sure this is something you want?”

“Of course I want you, Hoseok—”

“What?”

It’s only when it’s too late that you realize what you’ve said.

“You want me?”

“I want you…” You say slowly, like testing the words on your tongue.

“And you want the others.” He’s so quick to jump to the next thing. You just want to linger on what you’ve already said, how big it feels, hovering between you both.

“Can’t you just listen to what I’ve said?”

Sure, of course, it’s been a long time without sex. And even with the introduction of your nightly romps with Jungkook and Jimin — and your quiet moments with Namjoon — you’re still left wanting more. Your time with Jungkook and Jimin didn’t erase any of the rest of the longing that lived in your chest. If anything, it merely stoked the flame higher. A flame that yearned for Hoseok, too, with a particular kind of ache.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

Hoseok rubs the back of his neck.

“Why should I?”

He’s so thick, he’s so frustrating, you have no idea how you’re going to get through to him.

So instead, you reach up, press your hands to his cheeks, and kiss him.

It feels like a mistake the moment you’ve done it. It’s like walking across a bridge, without knowing that there’s an end in sight. You don’t know how he feels, and for all you know, he could be saying all this bullshit about you being a concubine because he just needs a way out, and it’s easier to turn it back on you than it is to look within. He’s always been this way. It’s been a long history of him keeping his emotions just beyond reach of you. Just beyond reach of himself, too. Even his thoughts, which felt less threatening to him than his own feelings, those too he kept caged up and hidden out of sight from you.

Hoseok is shocked, you can feel his shock shoot like ice through his body, like a bad memory,

All of a sudden it feels like that cab ride again, back in January, the silence sliding like a winter storm between you as you both stare out of opposite windows.

But his hands are gliding gently up your waist.

And he’s stepping closer.

It’s awkward, fumbling, like re-learning to walk.

But then the ice of his shock begins to melt as your lips meet his, sublimating into something explosive. Something that sings of fire ravaging through a frozen forest, flames licking at icicles, ice vaporizing beneath touch.

Your chest burns with desire larger than you know how to name, how to know. It burns like a winter sun, shining through the trees on a dark day. Like eyes, aching as they adjust to the light.

His hands fumble across your skin, he presses in closer.

The burn intensifies.

And so abruptly, you pull away, like you’ve been scalded. And force a soft smile to your face, despite the way you are quaking inside. And say:

“I wanted to do that. Does that say anything?”

He nods, swallowing quickly and tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Yes.”

Silence hangs between you as he searches your face, looking for an answer to a question you don’t know.

“Do you—did you… want? Want me to do that?” You stumble over the words.

He nods. “Yes. Yes, I—” He grips your hand in his and pulls you closer. “I did.” For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you again. Breath is the only thing that hangs between you. But then he says, “Are you sure this is something you want?” and nods back towards where the others are waiting.

“Yes,” you say.

He looks down and swings your hand back and forth, his gaze locked on your interlaced fingers.

“Alright,” he says.

Part of you wants to linger, wants to kiss him again and give it a real shot and make it right. Not some fumbling, half-burnt mess of a kiss. But you see the thoughts spinning in his mind and so you say: “I’ll give you a moment,” and step back. The walk back to the dining room blurs in the mess of your pounding heartbeat. The boys are waiting for you.

Most of them are ogling the food greedily, Jungkook is even licking something off of his pinky finger. The rest are kind of lounging around, the chairs scattered, and that same warm feeling from before cuts right through your chest and warms you from the inside out. Whatever that was, back in the hallway, this, here, is at least familiar.

Even as a blanket of tension hangs about, which is fair, considering Hoseok had just run out of the room, there is a groundedness to the group. They take turns glancing at the door, picking nervously at the food, and mumbling to one another. But beneath it all, familiarity. Even if Hoseok is missing.

Your fingers unconsciously drift up to your lips, tracing over the skin where his lips were just a moment ago.

Jimin’s eyes follow your movements, attempting to parse together what’s just happened. Your gaze catches his and you smile softly. He nods towards the hallway with a raised eyebrow and you shrug. I’ve done my best.

Though, you’re not sure that kissing the man who’s been swirling through your head all week was your best. Or in your best interest, let alone his.

Finally, Hoseok returns back to the group, face set and determined. For a just a second, his gaze flicks to you before he sets his face sternly and speaks:

He clears his throat. “Sorry about that.” And you know it’s an apology directly to you, though, in all honesty, you’re not exactly sure what for. “And, um, me too,” he states, his voice soft. “I’m in.”

A collective sigh echoes around the room, like a breath that’s been held has finally released.

“Well that’s settled, we can just get straight to it—” Jungkook says, slapping his thighs and standing up. He gazes around the group while everyone stares back in silence.

Oh. Oh!

Get straight into it meant nothing other than sex. It feels scandalizing in a sense, that the lot of you would just jump right in, no preamble, no introductions — though, in a way, you all have been playing around the edge of foreplay for days now.

And what would follow?

Touch. Kiss. Dampness gathering. Fingers swiped through slick, brought to greedy mouth.

What would the lean muscle in Jin’s shoulder feel like under your fingertips? Would the soft skin of Yoongi’s neck taste the same after all that time? Would Taehyung be the same kind of lover as before, quick-witted and starving for pleasure? And what about the others, the ones who you haven’t touched, haven’t seen bare, haven’t taken within you — what would they be like? Gentle? Greedy?

Who would taste you? Who would want to taste you?

Everyone in this room apparently, and the thought is confirmed by the hungry looks that are passed around the room.

Jin sighs. “Sit down, Jungkook.” JK looks at him with a confused face. “We need to have a conversation first, don’t we?”

Jungkook nods.

“We’ll eat and talk at the same time,” Jin says. “So much for a composed dinner.”

“Jin, you didn’t really believe you were going to get any kind of composure out of this lot, did you?” you chide.

You all gather around the table. Jin and Namjoon take either side of you, the two broad shouldered men squeezing you into your seat. Not that you mind.

The food is already prepped and waiting on the table, like some glorious feast. The table is heaping with food, rice piled high in what must be the house’s finest bowls, and brightly colored vegetables.

Plates are filled with the bounty that Jin and Yoongi had prepared during the day. The piles and piles of food almost seems like too much, but then again you know that nothing goes to waste with this eternally-hungry group. Your gaze roves over the feast: the table is laden with meats and noodles and variations of stir fried vegetables sat among beautiful arrays of autumn squash, both cooked and on display. And at the end of the table sat what you can only describe as an overfilled cream pie.

“Champagne?” Yoongi asks, and the room fills with enthusiastic agreement.

Yoongi stands at the head of the table, a stark reminder of where he sat just yesterday morning, sleepy and propositioning the rest of the group. It feels like it has been years since that moment.

When he twists the champagne bottle open with a dramatic pop!, it feels like a representation of tonight. The tension building, bubbling beneath the surface and ready to explode at any moment. Though as you watch him gracefully pour into several champagne flutes, laughing and chatting with his friends, you realize that even with your communal agreeal, the cork hasn’t loosened yet.

There is more to come. Abundance. Warmth. Like the food on the table. Like the men around you.

Hoseok, under Jin’s guidance, begins to carve the meat. The way he handles the knife, his knuckles tense, and you feel it in your core. As your cheeks warm at the thought, his graceful hands expertly carving, you glance back down at your empty plate, trying to shake your mind of the images that fly through.

Hoseok, his fingers dancing over your back. Hoseok, leaning over you as he slips his hands down your pants, gliding along the delicate skin before plunging—

“Can I get you something?” Hoseok’s voice breaks through your thoughts as he stares at you with a note of concern in his voice. That’s when you realize you’ve been spacing out, mouth hanging open, staring at him.

“Um, yes please.”

Your plate is passed around the table and quickly filled with the help of your friends.

“To… us.” Yoongi raises a glass and you all cheer, warmth spreading through the room as you all smile at one another, reaching across the table to toast each person individually.

“Hey, hey,” Jin says, when you clink his glass. “You know what it means if you don’t make eye contact when cheersing?”

“Hm?”

“It means seven years of bad sex.”

“Oh.”

He holds his glass up again, and you do it properly this time, a sly smile spilling over his lips as he lets his gaze linger on you.

“Though I wonder, if you’re septupling your sexual partners overnight if you might be able to make up for that bad luck in a seventh of the time.” He shrugs. “We’ll leave the math up to the fates.”

As you settle into dinner, a comfortable clatter of eating fills the room. Hums and cries of delight rise from the table as everyone exclaims at the deliciousness of the food.

“Thank you, Jin,” you say, reaching over to pat him on the leg. “And Yoongi,” you raise your glass to your friend at the head of the table.

As everyone settles into dinner, Namjoon is the first one to speak, getting straight to the point. “The first thing we should do,” Namjoon coughs, “Is address the elephant in the room.”

Jin nods. “We can’t keep secrets around each other — we should have privacy in our own lives, yes, absolutely — but this whole sneaking around thing is no good for any sense of trust in our relationship.”

Your heartbeat hammers in your chest. He knows. How could he not, when you nearly told him everything yesterday? You just thought you’d be able to tell everyone that you, Jungkook, and Jimin had been fucking on your terms, not like this. But too, there’s a kind of relief in it finally coming out.

Jungkook hangs his head but doesn’t say anything.

“Anyone?”

A long silence hangs over the group. Jimin catches your gaze from across the table.

“Jungkook? Anything you’d like to share with us?”

The young man’s head snaps up as he takes in the room around him and the weight of all of his friends’ eyes upon him. His body is tense, but he takes a deep breath, and on the exhale, his shoulders fall. “Fine. I admit it,” Jungkook grumbles at a barely audible level. “We’ve been fucking.”

The room explodes.

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“Fucking?”

Someone’s chair screeches backwards and a glass of wine tips over, staining the white table cloth. Hands dart out quickly to dab it up.

“I thought you were just planning a surprise party?” Someone says.

“I thought this was some kind of flashmob thing?” Hoseok says.

“Me too!” Namjoon chimes in. “That’s, that’s what we talked about.”

“Flashmob?” you snort.

“The sweat, I mean, come on!” Namjoon fades into silence as the realization dawns on him. “Oh. The sweat. The fuck?!”

“How could we not?” Jungkook continues. “Goddamn I hadn’t come in someone coming up on a year and here are two very very attractive—”

“Two?!” Namjoon exclaims.

“Two?!” Yoongi cries. “And you didn’t include me?? And who?”

“Well, we’re including you now!” Jungkook says back.

“Me,” Jimin says softly from his seat.

“Fair enough,” Yoongi says, sitting down again. Hoseok is quiet. Namjoon however, is still wildly flustered.

“And here I was thinking it was the right thing to hold back…” he grumbles.

“You were a perfect gentleman, Joon,” you reassure him. “It’s quite a flattering look on you.” He catches your gaze and flushes at the compliment, looking down at his hands.

“Still, I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

The room quiets as the knowledge and understanding settles on all of you.

You slip your hand underneath the table, letting your palm settle on his knee before gliding up to rest on his thigh. Namjoon looks shocked but composes himself and throws you a sheepish smile. After a moment, his hand drifts down and settles atop yours. Not holding it, just, just resting.

“If anyone cares to know, we were fucking,” Taehyung says, gesturing between himself and his boyfriend.

“Shut up Tae,” everyone echoes.

“But on a more serious note,” Jin cuts in. “Does that information change anything for anyone? That some of us have already been sleeping together?”

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers to Yoongi. For a moment, you feel like it’s January again, his dark eyes shining at you from across a dark room, a secret shared between the both of you. But you tear your gaze away from him when his flickers up to you.

Everyone is looking at one another, reading for Jin’s question: does this change anything? Yoongi seems unfazed, but beneath it you know he’s curious. Jimin looks cool and collected, lounging on his chair, examining something on his palm. Namjoon looks a little nervous but reflective. Jungkook, waiting. Jin and Tae, playful as ever. And Hobi, well. He seems to be in complete and utter shock.

You wonder what kind of shock. If he’s still reeling from the information that you, Jimin, and Jungkook have been playing the beast with two, well, three backs. Perhaps he’s still processing this whole change in relationship between all of you. Or maybe he’s still in shock from the kiss. You stop yourself there. Either way, he doesn’t look too pleased, staring into his wine glass, unspoken words brewing behind his gaze.

So you give him a minute, shushing Jungkook by nudging him with your foot beneath the table when he starts to say something.

“I guess it doesn’t change anything,” Hoesok says, finally. “We all have pasts. We all have… needs.”

That’s the word. That’s what it feels like, wanting him. It feels like a need. His gaze catches yours and you smile reassuringly. You hope the layer of worry that hides beneath your smile doesn’t show through.

Lost in thought, you’re surprised when Namjoon interlaces your fingers beneath the table. He gives you a little squeeze, as if to say You alright? You squeeze back, throwing him a soft smile, a reply of Better, now.

“The next thing,” Yoongi cuts in. “Before we go any further with this—We need rules.”

“Rules?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hand tightens beneath the table.

“Expectations, understandings. Boundaries.”

“Well the most obvious one: is anyone straight?”

Silence settles in the room.

“Jungkook? I thought you were—”

“Uh no.” Jungkook says sheepishly. “Not, um, anymore.” Anymore? “Quarantine might have changed more than one thing.”

Some of your friends look surprised, while others just nod along, like they expected this the whole time. Taehyung is one of the former, taking the news sincerely and chewing over. But the conversation quickly moves on.

“No blanket consent statements,” Taehyung adds thoughtfully to the conversation.

Yoongi pouts. “Really? None?”

“Only if you’re the one giving them out,” Taehyung corrects. “I don’t know, it just seems too messy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi says, though there’s a note of disappointment in his voice.

“Everything should be negotiated day-of, moment-of. With eight people, there’s too many moving parts.”

You all nod in agreement.

Yoongi takes a long drink of his wine and you watch as his throat moves as he gulps, and as a little bit of the red liquid dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. He swipes it away with his thumb, catches your glance and sends you a wink. You smile and look away quickly.

Jeez. How the hell are you supposed to be doing serious thinking right now when all of your friends somehow look like sex gods doing nothing more normal than eating their dinners?

“Any hard boundaries?” Jimin asks.

“Oh my god please no vore,” Jungkook blurts. Seven pairs of eyes blink back at him. “Please don’t eat me,” he adds softly.

“What kind of deep dark internet hole did you go down? ” Yoongi asks. “That’s even darker than where I go.” Hoseok leans over to Yoongi and you catch a whispered: Where do you go?

Jungkook flushes a deep shade of red before hiding his head in the crook of his arm.

“Quarantine was a long time,” he says, in place of explanation. “And reddit is a vast resource.”

The rest of you share some of your hard limits one by one. There’s the usual: no poop, no punching or kicking, nothing non-consensual. You insist on no anal fisting. There are a couple that surprise you though. When Jin states that he, under no circumstance, will engage in cock and ball torture, Jungkook pipes up and says he’s willing to try it. Hoseok shares that he has never bottomed, but when asked, he says he wouldn’t mind giving it a shot under the right kind of circumstances. Though someone reminds him that that’s a soft limit, the boys exchange glances, as if fighting over who will be the first to top their friend.

The reality is, that at the end of the conversation, there is a broad range of exploratory space between you and your friends. A space so large it nearly frightens you.

That’s when you notice across the table, a shining, waxy red fruit.

“Where on earth did you find pomegranate?” you ask Jin, bewildered.

“I knew it was your favorite.” Jin grins back at you, and Jungkook tosses the red fruit to you from across the table.

“Catch!”

You toss Jin a brilliant smile as the red fruit lands in your hands.

An imperial orb, Jimin had once described it as.

And holding it, you feel the weight of not only its flesh, but its significance. For a moment, the image of Persephone, reaching for the pomegranate flits across your memory. Reaching for the dangling fruit, it was the sweetness that had sealed her fate.

You dig your fingers into the hard skin of the vibrant fruit and—oh—it squirts out, staining the white table cloth and, you quickly realize, your neighbor.

Namjoon has already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, his chest smooth and shining in the candlelight. And now, pomegranate juice drips from his chin, rolling down his neck, about to stain that beautiful white shirt—

“Lick it up,” someone calls, probably Jimin, and before you know what you’re doing, you reach for the broad man, running your tongue first along the hard planes of his chest and trailing up, up, up to his neck. He shivers when your tongue traces his throat, the skin especially sensitive. You smile at that, and he looks down at you, brown eyes gleaming with amusement. And more.

“Me too,” Jin says, and you feel a hand on your back. With regret, you lift your lips from Namjoon’s neck and turn towards him.

Jin has smeared pomegranate across the cut of his chin, and it dribbles down his neck, already staining his collar. But you’re not one to refuse a beautiful man, and so with care—and leaving a hand on one of Namjoon’s thighs—you press your lips to Jin’s neck. The juice stains your lips, turning them a bloodied color.

You take your time kissing up the column of his throat, painting the smallest of caresses against the soft skin of his neck. Unlike Namjoon, he doesn’t tremble beneath your touch. Instead, his grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer. You gasp when you are pressed skin to skin against his chest, your hands reaching to his collar for stability, nearly falling into his lap.

“You can use more than your lips, darling,” Jin murmurs in your ear. “I never did mind a little nibble.” And so with that, you skate your teeth along the hard edge of his jaw, drawing a sharp his from the tall man. You end it with a peck to the corner of his jaw.

When you look back at the table, everyone is staring at you, mouths hanging open.

“That was hot as fuck,” Jimin says, throwing a wink at you.

Jungkook, though, looks a little miffed. The table is dressed with both main courses, side dishes, and desserts, and as Jungkook reaches for a baklava, you realize just how delightful it is to eat sweets with the main course.

He frowns as he takes a bite, honey spilling down his lip. Jimin, next to him, leans over and swipes the golden liquid from the younger man’s pouting lip. Jungkook watches in awe as Jimin sucks the finger into his mouth, a sly grin spreading across his features.

“What else?” Yoongi asks, clearing his throat, and finally all sets of eyes are on him.

“No leaving anyone out,” Jungkook says a little too quickly, glancing at you, Namjoon and Jin. Namjoon beside you is a little stiff and breathing hard. His hand fumbles for you under the table, and finally falls on your knee. You smile up at him.

“How does that work? What does that look like?”

“Say, for example, someone wants to have sex with six out of the seven other people in this house? That just seems like a setup for drama,” Namjoon adds.

“Fair enough,” Jin echoes.

“So no more than five in a group.”

Five. Wow. Five still seems marginally larger than you know how to coordinate.

Jungkook chuckles nefariously. “That means that we could split up, hyungs, maknaes, and—” he waggles his eyebrows as a sign of what he means to fill in the blank with. Group sex, with different iterations of the group. Your stomach tightens in anticipation of the hundreds of different arrangements there might be.

Namjoon and Jin pressing you up against a shelf of books.

Jimin and Taehyung fucking you in the pool.

Yoongi, Jungkook, and Hobi having their way with you on the dinner table. You, spread out like some garnished and carefully prepared delight.

Frankly, the possibilities are endless. And you have a feeling that your day-to-day life might finally surpass the fantasies of your dreams, the ones that have come to haunt you with desire for months now.

Taehyung’s voice breaks through your reverie. “It feels a little unfair that she gets to sleep in Hobi’s bed every night,” he says quickly, his eyes flashing up towards you.

You bristle. “It’s my bed too!” you say before you can consider the implications of what he’s just said. Taehyung wants you in his bed. Again.

“You know what he means,” Jungkook corrects.

“I suppose I could see what he means by that,” Namjoon adds, just a little too casually. You raise an eyebrow at him. You hadn’t pegged him as the jealous type.

“I’ll choose where I sleep,” you say.

“Like a wandering bed ghost,” Yoongi cuts in.

You glare at him. “The other option is that I get my own room. Who’s willing to give theirs up?”

The room falls silent. One person raises their hand.

“Put your hand down, Namjoon,” you sigh. “I’ll be the wandering bed ghost of the Kim manor.”

“Do we have to do a seance to summon you?” Hoseok chirps.

You light up at his humor. It has felt like a long moment since he cracked any jokes.

“You’ll have to sing a mating call,” you joke back.

But the reality of your words finally hits you when no one laughs. Instead you find all of your friends staring back at you, a mixture of shy and blank and yearning expressions splayed across their faces.

In reality, you’ve all just agreed to add a big long mating dance to your friendship and there’s only one thing left to do: dance the dance of the beast with, well, eight backs.

← || series m.list || →

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

🔆 if you enjoyed this, please consider telling me what you think by leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! i love chatting with you all! 🔆 want to read more stories?

taglist 2: @min-mary @giadalin @plutoneu @kjooniesbabygirl @elly-007 @soloikeadates @black-rose-29 @moments-of-melancholy @jeonsjiddies @uniquekindofgirl @97liners @beeeb05 @bryophytas @bt21chim @melaninkay12 @milkteallday @emmmui @lovelye79 @kawaiikiwithefruit @soraiaimnida @sugashaye @theflowerbangtan @gguksfilter @winter-melontea @stayyarmy @middlefingerstoyou @joonsbias @bts-enthusiasts @gukssunshine @mylittlestrangeandsweetworld @namjin-fangirling-again @kookima @veryuniquenamegoeshere @kpop-trash08 @princessrose110297 @little7bitchh @ladysandy @speed-of-wind @55west81st @mini-coop25 @honeyspillings @japzalileo @naajix @joyouart @dariangarcia @fanoffandomss @tanbae-blog @illneverrecover @frisianqueen

#ot7 smut #ot7 x reader #ot7 fic #namjoon smut #jin smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #yoongi smut #jimin roommates!au #nonidol au #bts x yn #bts x you #bts x reader #house of ddaeng #whalien 52 #ksmutclub

701 notes · View notes

outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

533 notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

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

(series masterlist)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

but your parents were the opposite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and apparently, so will you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how was your semester?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you okay with the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

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

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

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

never looking so... teasing and playful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you didn’t have to know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he doesn’t know when this happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he did).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but she could’t know that.

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

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

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

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

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

“do you still wanna come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“eunbi...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you miss seeing them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what? she beeped at me.”

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

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

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

“where to first, mr. park?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is this what you wanted?”

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

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

“w-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

two can play at this game mr. park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“true. it’s really good.”

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

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

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

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

“hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unless the pull was so desperate.

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

strike one:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

strike two:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n...”

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

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

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

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

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

“no. no, no, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that, and because you’re both really hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something in you tells you it’s him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“goodnight, mr. park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

get all of his stress out in the form of-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

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

“oh shit...”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

especially when it hurts students like you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

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

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

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

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

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(part 2)

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

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

#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

2K notes · View notes