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celestie0 · 1 year ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined ��✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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minhosimthings · 7 months ago

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Sweet As Cherry Wine || KSM, 18+

In which the cold librarian's heart gets melted by his best friend's sister

Synopsis: Kim Seungmin was the assistant librarian at your uni's library and the love of your life. Oh and also your brother's best friend.

Pairings: Seungmin × fem!reader, includes rest of skz, Winter (aespa)

Warnings: brother's best friend trope, a play on Hades and Persephone, secret relationship, flufff, seungmin is a menace, SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), brief choking, slightly sub minnie?, just a lot of me simping after his fingies, semi public sex (in the library)

A/N: YEAH ANOTHER SEUNGMIN FIC WOOHOOOOOO LETS GAURRRRRRR an official thank you to Mona's creative juices for actually working hard to complete this. Hope y'all enjoy!

Word count: 7k (so.many.synonyms)

“And how she let the pomegranate juice,

Drip from her smiling lips,

Even Hades trembled under sweet Persephone’s gaze.”

The tantalising smell of old leather and paper hugged your nostrils as soon as you crossed the threshold of the outdoors into the library. The entire room had the faint smell of sandalwood wafting through it as well, which your lungs appreciated as you breathed the air in.

Having spent only six months in your university as a freshman, you had never dared to step foot into the university’s famed collection of books more than five times. You were far too intimidated by it. That, and also the fact that you had a tremendous amount of work hanging over your head. And you certainly did not want to disappoint your parents, who worked day and night in ensuring that you had a proper education.

“Y/Nnie come on!” Your best friend, Jeongin, grabbed your hand and dragged you further into the grand building. Jeongin was the first friend you had made in college, having argued furiously with him in your sociology class on the modern feminist forms of thought. Deciding that he was smart enough to never keep you bored, you promptly shook hands with him. He must have thought so too, because the very next day, he introduced you to his band of friends, with whom he had grown up since childhood.

And now, you could see one of those friends waving to the both of you from a very large table. It was Lee Minho–dance prodigy, archeology student in his third year, frequent arson enthusiast and a cat dad. That was what you had gotten from him, six months into your friendship

“Hyung!” Jeongin practically leapt on the stunning man as soon as he came near him, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Minho made a face of disgust, but you could see the faint smile threatening to spill out as he hugged Jeongin back.

“Let go of me before I suffocate you, brat.” Minho said, giving you a smile as Jeongin reluctantly pulled back, “Alright, Y/N?”

“Good as always.” You responded with a grin. “Oh, congratulations on your win at the Dance Masters by the way!” Minho tilted his head at you as a ‘thank you’, with his ears turning furiously red, and his smile widening.

“And what about me?” A smooth voice made you jump as the ever-present smile of Hwang Hyunjin appeared before your eyes.

“Give me a warning before you pop out of nowhere!” You laughed, being engulfed into a tight hug by Hyunjin, “And congratulations to you, as well.”

“Why thank you.” Hyunjin did a dramatic sort of curtsy after unleashing you from his arms, “Hyung, have you seen Lix anywhere? He forgot his keychain with me.”

“He’s still stuck in class.” Minho muttered, raising his arms up abruptly and stretching with a very loud sigh, “My bones are so stiff, I swear to God.”

“Could you keep it down, old man?”

Perhaps the most annoying voice in the entire campus rang in your ears as you spun on your heel to see the bane of your existence. The world’s most insidious bastard faced you, in the form of a 5 '10, history-majoring, glasses-wearing, probably drinks pomegranate juice in the morning sophomore.

Kim Seungmin.

The universe couldn't have made a more negative person.

And a more perfect secret boyfriend too.

“Seungmin!” Hyunjin reached his arms out to straddle the man into a hug. You snickered at the sight of Seungmin’s disgusted face.

“Haven't seen you around in a while, Seung.” Minho said, “Been cleaning any more books recently?” Seungmin sighed dramatically, and miraculously swept out of Hyunjin’s tight arms, giving a sarcastic smile to Minho.

“Oh no hyung,” He said in an overly sweet voice, “Nowadays, I’ve just been spending my time wondering how on earth you thought purple was a good colour for your hair.”

Minho glared at Seungmin, who only smiled sweetly. His gaze caught yours in a swift glance.

"And I see that Miss Shorthead has decided to visit me.” He said, bending down a bit to be at your eye-level, “Do the other dwarfs know how to read as well?”

“Would it kill you to be nice for once?” You said, trying to send you a glare, which instantly disappeared when Minho decided to coo at you.

“Aww you look so adorable when you’re angry.” He chuckled, leaning against the table, “You look like my cat, Dori.”

You looked at Minho with a pleading look as if to say ‘not now. ‘Not in Seungmin’s presence’. Although that didn't work very well, evident from the smirk forming on Seungmin’s face.

“Well that’s maybe because–” Seungmin’s words were gracefully interrupted by the long-haired dancer.

“Well, I’m just going to go ahead and take this to Lix.” Hyunjin sighed, sending you a smile. You sent him one back, silently thanking him for saving you from Seungmin’s taunt about your height.

“I wanna come too.” Jeongin said resolvedly, swinging his bag over his arm and looking at you, “Do you wanna come? We can see Lix hyung after so many days again!” You nodded frantically, avoiding Seungmin’s curious expression. Anything to get out of that situation.

“Well that’s settled then.” Minho groaned like an old man, “Yah Kim Seungmin, got any books for stiff shoulders here?”

“Wow hyung, I didn't know you could actually read.”

“You little–”

You were already halfway out the door by the time both of them started bickering like a divorced couple again, frolicking away in the autumn sun alongside Hyunjin and Jeongin, the latter still holding your hand.

“Keep dragging her like that, and Changbin hyung will have your head for dinner.” Hyunjin chuckled, in response to which Jeongin rolled his eyes.

“He knows we’re friends, pabo.” He said, “Plus, no offence Y/Nnie, but I’ve already fallen for someone else.” He sighed dramatically, letting go of your hand and clutching his chest, “She’s the most gorgeous female person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Use the phrase ‘female person’ in front of her and you’re not gonna get so far as a glance.” You joked making Hyunjin laugh raucously, “It's Min-Jeong from our econ class right?”

Jeongin didn't even bother asking how you knew, all too aware of your highly observant nature, one that rivalled Minho and his cats.

“Glad to know you have enough brain to know not to date your best friend’s younger sister.” Hyunjin sent you a wink, brushing his long hair back, “Anyone going to Seungmin’s book-reading thing tomorrow?”

“I am.” You piped up, casually fixing the button of your coat, and looking back up to see the utterly shocked faces of the two boys, “What?”

“You.” Jeongin gasped, “Oh my god.” He gasped, looking at Hyunjin with wide eyes and then pumping his fist in the air, much to your alarm, “Oh my god, I knew it! I knew it, I WAS RIGHT!” Hyunjin pressed his hands to his ears, very annoyed by Jeongin’s sudden screaming. You, on the other hand, sported a confused face.

“Mind telling us what you were right about, Newton?” You said, slapping Jeongin’s arm. He cleared his throat and looked at you with a teasing expression.

“You like him, don't you?” He giggled, “You like Kim Seungmin.”

“Did we accidentally feed him drugs?” You laughed awkwardly, avoiding both of their eyes, to which Jeongin gasped dramatically again.

“Suspicious how you're not looking into my eyes, Seo Y/N.” Jeongin stated with the air of a detective, “Very suspicious.”

“Hyune, mind informing my brother that he needs to go and hunt down a fox today?” You glared at Jeongin, who kept giggling like a villain, “Yang Jeongin, if you don’t stop laughing, I will put a frog in your pants.”

“Alright, alright.” Jeongin laughed, clutching his stomach, “I’m not getting off the SeungY/N train anytime soon though.” he threw you a wink, to which you gagged theatrically.

“There’s nothing to like about that asshole.” You defended yourself, climbing up the steps of the building that you had reached, “Look, I’m just going to the book-reading to support him. You know, like a good friend would do.”

“Huh, I didn't realise good friends call their friends, assholes.” Hyunjin interjected, eyeing you up and down, quickly raising up his hands in defeat when he saw you turn maliciously towards him, “Hey, I’m just making an observation.”

“I’ll take that as an observation then.” You eyed him suspiciously to which he chuckled, “Kim Seungmin is the most insipid, emotionless, inhumane bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Alright, I think Lix should be out by now.” Hyunjin brought the conversation to the end, checking his watch, “You two better get to class.”

“Ugh don't remind me.” Jeongin groaned, “Miss Baek will be out for my soul today and I’m dying to get to bed.”

“I heard Min-Jeong is looking for a date in our class, for Haechan's party on Sunday.”

“And suddenly I’m awake.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Persephone would climb onto her husband’s lap like it was her throne.

To the world, Hades was an unyielding, merciless king,

For her, he was tender and vulnerable.”

“You know–” Seungmin’s voice dropped to a lower tone as soon as your back collided with the bookshelf, “—Changbin hyung will actually kill me if he finds out about this.”

“And?” You said, toying with the collar of his shirt with both your hands, “Don’t tell me I bagged a man who's too much of a pussy to stand up to my brother.”

“Your man huh?” Seungmin’s teeth bit down on his bottom lip, his hands drawing shaped against your waist, “Well, let’s just say your man is merely following the orders of his queen.”

A blush crept up to your cheeks at his words as you giggled, resting your hands on either of his shoulders. God did he look handsomer than ever, with the pale yellow night-light of the library illuminating only one side of his face. In the darkness, you could still see those beautiful eyes of his, with constellations swimming in each corner of them.You wondered how he didn’t go blind from carrying all those stars in his eyes.

“What are you staring at hm?” Seungmin whispers, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Just….....you.” You said, bringing your hands up to his hair. Your fingers automatically intertwined in his gorgeous locks, effectively massaging his head as you ran your hand through them. Seungmin melted into your touch.

“Keep doing that and I’ll go and confess to your brother tomorrow.” He chuckled, leaning down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his soft lips touched your neck, moving across the skin to press a number of sweet, feather-light kisses on it. It tickled you quite pink.

“Min..” You trailed off, but he didn't stop with his quest, “your lips are so soft, it tickles!”

“I could spend the whole day doing just this.” Seungmin mumbled, rising up and grabbing your waist with his right arm, whilst his left wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer towards him. Your hands pressed flat against his chest, wandering there before you tensed as his fingers brushed through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear before trailing along the side of your neck. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if savouring the moment.

The longing was palpable, igniting when you threw yourself against him. Your lips crashed together fiercely, without hesitation, as if you both need this like a sick person needs medicine. The kiss was urgent, as if time was running out and every second was too precious to waste.

He presses you against the bookshelf harsher, the force of his body pinning you in place, leaving you unable to move. But there’s no fear, only a growing desire that intensifies with every movement of his lips against yours. Seungmin’s hands explore your body with an intensity that makes you shiver. You feel his nails digging into your skin, the overwhelming blend of pain and pleasure only fuels your craving for more.

You reciprocate with equal intensity, your hands roaming over his body, pulling him closer, as if mere proximity will never be enough. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as he trails kisses down your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you.

“Fuck…Seungmin…” You gasp in between the kiss. He tastes so good, like melted sugar and hints of your chapstick; you want nothing more than to devour him, sink your teeth in deeper and let your bones fade into his as the earth keeps spinning on its unimaginably prosaic axis. You don’t want to end this, this dance of your souls pirouetting together towards the end of the world.

Unfortunately, the library was a public place, where poetry-drunk students barged in even at midnight.

“Seungmin!” A voice cried, “Kim Seungmin, where are you?!”

His lips stopped moving on yours abruptly, as he squeezed your waist and turned his face to the side, towards the source of the voice he had just heard. Being an assistant librarian really did a number on his listening skills, though he had to admit that the footsteps were loud and the voice was familiar enough for you to quickly pull your arms away from him.

“What the fuck is he doing here at this hour?” You said in a panicked tone, whipping your head around to look for a hiding place. Anyone could identify your brother’s voice easily, that distinct child-like yet powerful tone lacing it in a sweet manner.

Your brother was a music major, now in his third year. You were surprised to have been ‘introduced’ to him by Jeongin, who was completely oblivious for a month about the fact that both his best friends’ names started with ‘Seo’. And of course, much like your other friends, he didn't know anything about your and Seungmin’s relationship, having believed the white-lie that you two were just friends who liked to occasionally demolish each other’s egos.

After all, why on earth would his sweet little sister fall for such a menace like Kim Seungmin?

“Wait, what section are we in?” Seungmin’s eyes browsed through the books quickly, lighting up brightly when he fell on a bunch of books lined up perfectly under the title ‘Modern Economics’. He grinned at you with all his teeth.

“You’re getting a book on Performance Based Incentives aren't you babe?” He smirked, quickly pulling a bunch of books and setting them on the table, “And I just happened to be such a sweet friend and helped you out, right?”

“Now why–” You flicked his forehead with your finger, “—would I be getting a book this late, idiot?”

“Punctuality problems.” Seungmin stated simply, rubbing his forehead with his hand. You didn't get the opportunity to question him any further when he picked up a random book and started flicking through the pages. He cleared his throat very loudly and started speaking in an overly exaggerated voice.

“So if you’ll see this paragraph Y/N,” You stifled your laugh at his dramatic narration, “this will help you loads in your essay.”

“There you are!”

Before he could continue further, a shadow crept over in the form of your brother, Changbin. A mop of unruly curls framed his face while a tight compression shirt framed his sturdy figure. You quickly took a step back from Seungmin, which thankfully your brother didn't notice.

“Oh hey hyung.” Seungmin said calmly, with a snicker, “Since when did you become a book-worm huh?” Changbin didn’t respond to Seungmin’s teasing, instead narrowing his eyes at you.

“What are you doing here?” Changbin said, in that same over-protective brotherly tone he always used.

“I’m building a dam.” You said with a face so dead-pan that Seungmin burst out laughing, slamming his hands on the table. You grinned innocently at Changbin, who was now standing near you.

“Seriously, Y/Nnie.” Changbin gave you a soft smile, “You shouldn't be out so late at night, it's dangerous.”

“Why, because I’m a woman?” You raised a brow at your brother who shook his head in early defeat, “Bin, I’m fine seriously. Plus–” You gave what you hoped was a ‘friendly’ smack to Seungmin’s arm, “–I have this asshole to protect me. Right, asshole?” You glanced at Seungmin who, much to your alarm, smirked at you in the most flirtatious manner possible.

“Uh huhhh.” Changbin drawled out, crossing his arms over his chest, “But why ar—”

“Hyung, did you need something?” Seungmin interjected, giving a dramatic yawn, “I was gonna shut shop fifteen minutes ago, but this woman here–” He turned his head towards you, “—came in five minutes before closing and asked for very specific books.” He furrowed his brows at you in a playful manner, “Really Y/N, a man needs his beauty sleep you know?”

Beauty sleep, my ass, you thought. Your eyes lingered over the faint traces of your chapstick still stuck to his lips and the back of his head all messy from how you pulled his hair. You hoped fervently that his amazing kisses on your neck didn't leave any suspicious marks.

“Good lord, I should stop watching dramas.” Changbin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, “Here I was thinking the both of you were canoodling or something.”

You and Seungmin made gagging sounds at the same time, giving each other a little smirk when Changbin wasn't looking.

“Do not use the word canoodling ever again.” You laughed, “Go on then, satisfy the librarian and tell him what you need.”

“No wait, let me guess!” Seungmin piped up before Changbin could even open his mouth, placing a finger to his chin and pretending to think, “You’re here…..to pick up that musical anatomy book for Chan hyung!”

Your brother’s jaw dropped open comically and Seungmin raised his chin up in a triumphant sort of way. He started speaking again before Changbin could.

“It was simple really.” He said, in a Sherlock Holmes tone, “Chan hyung asked me to keep that book on hold for him today and he never arrived to pick it up.” Seungmin beamed, “So you’re here for it, as a bribe to get him to sleep!”

Your eyes traced over Seungmin’s handsome features in the dim light, you hoped you weren't smiling too much lest Changbin raised his suspicions, but god damn did your boyfriend look so attractive when he was being smart. Even though you'd never admit it, you would have let him take you right there and then on the table in front of you. Perhaps even let him—

“Y/Nnie, are you alright? You’re red as a tomato.” Changbin looked at you with a concerned face, “Should I drop you home maybe?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You tried hard not to glare at Seungmin’s smug face, evidently he knew you were thinking about him, “I will take that drooping me home offer though so–” You picked up your bag from the table along with a random economics book–to keep up with your and Seungmin’s little lie, “Thanks for the help.” You said to Seungmin, before walking straight out of the section with a ‘I’ll wait outside’ to your brother.

“She does realise that she needs to get that thing registered right?” Seungmin said, walking along with Changbin to the front-desk where he worked, “It’s alright, just tell her she can do it tomorrow.” He started typing away on the computer in front of him, giving Changbin the book for Chan. he glanced up at the library’s entrance, lined with huge glass windows, where he could see your crossed-arm figure, tapping your foot and waiting for Changbin to come out. Cute, Seungmin thought, I have the cutest girlfriend in the world.

“What is up with you and Y/N turning all red this evening?” Changbin interjected his train of thoughts. Seungmin leaned back when Changbin attempted to check his temperature with a hand to the forehead, successfully shoving him out after five minutes of whining about how tired he was.

Plus, he did have a big day to get ready for tomorrow. The annual book reading that the university hosted was going to be held in less that 14 hours, according to Seungmin and as the revered assistant librarian, he had the courtesy of reading a passage along with the author that was to be invited.

He wished fervently to the stars to make sure that you were there to rest his nerves tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Under Persephone’s lips, white stars bloomed,

In his hair, only for a moment,

Then they wilted and fell,

And Hades fell.”

The sound of the autumn leaves crunching underneath your boots satisfied you as you briskly strutted to the library. Donning an orangish-brown cardigan over a little black skirt, you looked like the most autum-coded person ever. Of course, that was done on purpose, after hours of you and your friend Jisung digging through your respective closets to style the most perfect pumpkin fairy outfits. Your hair was done perfectly and your makeup was on point. You made sure to use your darkest shade of lip-gloss, one that you knew always drove Seungmin crazy whenever he saw it.

The library looked extra gothic to you today, with beautiful hues of orange and brown framing its magnificent structure. But you had no time to waste in admiring the beauty of it today.

No, today was meant for one person and one person only.

The love of your life, Kim Seungmin.

You glided into the library through the revolving doors, immediately being greeted by a patient crowd, most of them sitting on the chairs and some of them standing. Your eyes zoomed around the room before they landed on a blue haired boy. Your friend, Han Jisung, stood restlessly, tapping his foot away and adjusting his glasses every now and then.you walked over to him, smiling as he spotted you.

“I knew you’d come!” Jisung engulfed you in a tight hug, almost choking you, “Thank god you arrived in time, I was almost about to leave.” He let out a short laugh, “I have no idea who these nerds are.”

“Ji.” You said scoldingly, looking apologetically at a wide eyed girl who was sneering at Jisung, “Do you know when they’ll be starting?”

“Yeah, in about five minutes.” A deep voice behind you made you flinch. You turned around to see the smiling face of Lee Felix, Minho’s younger brother and your baking buddy.

“Lix!” Han cried, scaring the wide eyed girl again, “Man, I haven't seen you guys in forever.” He ran a hand through his hair. You chuckled.

“Isn't sophomore year supposed to be the hardest, Ji?” You said, to which Jisung responded with a frown, “I suppose our resident old man is working hard to graduate.”

“He hasn't slept in, let me see….” Jisung began counting on his fingers, making you and Felix laugh, “oh yeah thirteen years.” He scoffed, “No wonder he hasn't noticed I went out to drink with Changbin hyung yesterday.”

“Old man huh, Y/N?” Felix laughed, “Seungmin is really rubbing off on you. Oh and that lip-gloss is on point.”

Before you could respond however, the lights dimmed and a weird sort of spotlight shone on the two high legged stools which were kept at a distance, surrounded by books which sat upon miniature round tables. Your eyes started adjusting to the sudden change in light, when the familiar shape of your boyfriend stepped forward along with a black haired lady, who you assumed was the guest speaker for the day.

“Good morning everyone.” Seungmin spoke into a mic, “Please welcome our talented speaker for the day, Han Kang!” You applauded along with everyone else as the lady bowed slightly and settled down on the stool, with Seungmin sitting down next to her.

“He looks nervous, doesn't he?” Felix whispered to you. You merely nodded, silently agreeing. He did look like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Which he probably was.

But in the next moment, Seungmin’s eyes landed on yours and the world around him faded. The scattered applause and the lady speaking next to him merged into silence as he looked at you. He felt his lungs ease up and his breathing become calmer, as if you were the oxygen that he so desperately needed to get through the entire day.

You were just standing there in your ridiculously orange outfit, which he made a mental note to tease you about later, and your smile was all he needed to convince himself to man up and get through the thing that he’d been preparing for, for weeks.

“Shall we begin?” The lady’s voice and the snapping of a book’s spine alerted Seungmin. He nodded and picked up his own copy, turning to the first page and catching the underlined words just as the lady started to recite. He glanced up once more to see you taking in each and every word being recited with rapt attention.

Seungmin smiled to himself.

He couldn't wait to be in your arms after this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh how Hades’ hair is softest

When he’s down on his knees

Coaxing spring out

From inside of Persephone.”

The library was never an ideal place to be after 10 pm. It was practically isolated, far away from any dorm room or living spaces. The closest refugee area was a 24/7 convenience store about 2 kilometres from it. But it was the perfect place for a certain librarian and his girlfriend to hide out and get away from the world for a peaceful night.

Well, almost peaceful.

“You’re so beautiful…..” Seungmin’s hands dance your hips around the hall, before finally pushing you into the most perfect corridor. It was lined with books, along with a few chairs and a table. Seungmin loved this spot for many reasons. Particularly because it wa a blind spot to the CCTV camera,

The heat of his touch burns your skin, even through the fabric of your clothes. He leans in, his lips colliding against yours in a bruising kiss. His features are like fallen angels, you thought, so soft and yet so powerful. His hands slid lower, pushing up beneath your skirt. He stops there to squeeze your thigh gently. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes dark with need.

“Admit it,” he smirks, “You wore this little thing on purpose didn't you?”

“And what if I say I did?” You say boldly, you had nothing to lose, “What if I said I wore my best gloss—” You started pushing him back until he reached the table, “—and my best skirt just for you?”

You see the lust flash through Seungmin's eyes. Slowly, he releases you, allowing you to take a step back. He looks at you, desire and fear tangled in his gaze. And then, as if he had made a decision, his resolve breaks. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

He walks towards you, closing the gap between you, and whispers huskily, “Show me then.” He toys with your hips once more as you lay your hands flat on his chest, “Show me what’s under that best skirt of yours.”

Seungmin’s heart races as you unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation. His hands roam your clothed body, exploring every curve and contour with desperate hunger. He can’t get enough of you, the feel of your skin under his fingertips, and the taste of your lips on his.

“You’re desperate today, aren't you darling?” he sighs, his voice rough with desire. "So needy for me."

He reaches out, his hand gliding over the curve of your breast, tracing the delicate curve of your waist. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine and lighting a fire deep within your core.

With that, he pulls you close once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both desperate and possessive. He pours all his longing, all his desire, into that one moment, and you can feel the intensity of his passion coursing through your veins.

“Nuh huh.” You say, breaking the kiss abruptly, and walking forwards, forcing him to walk backwards until his hands are gripping the table once more, “You did such a good job today, you deserve a reward don’t you?”

Without a word, you bent down in front of him, pulling at his pants with urgency. He helps you pull the fabric to the side, exposing his hard cock, you were mesmerised by how perfect it looked, thick, long and pretty with a pink tip.

You started teasing him, your mouth moving slowly, hands caressing his balls, but the teasing did not last long. Seungmin grabbed your hair, gently tugging your head forward. “Suck my cock,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “No teasing.”

You hummed, the vibrations travelling through his shaft making him lean his head back, he would have almost fell were it not for the table behind him, supporting his weight. Your eyes closed shut as your lips wrapped halfway over his dick, caressing your tongue over the bottom side as you savoured your favourite salty treat in the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, as you worked your tongue along his shaft. “You’re such a good girl, feels so good.”

Once satisfied with the feel of his heavy weight against your wet pink muscle, you widened out, ushering your mouth to take more as you felt his hand tighten around your head, his fingertips digging into your scalp, a low groan escaping his chapped parted lips.

"That’s it. Just like that, love…." He groaned, his fingers gently tangling in your hair at the back of your head as he guided you forward slightly. Though he didn't say it out loud, you knew he wanted you to go further in, conveyed perfectly by the way he was forcing your head forward by his hand. The harsh grip he had on your hair made you whimper around his cock.

You obeyed, taking him deeper, your mouth moving faster as you pleased him just the way he liked. Your knees scraped against the carpeted floor as you scooted further on his silent instruction, your face almost smushed into his pelvis.

“So fucking perfect…” he said through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “Keep doing that baby, that’s a good girl.” The words sent a shiver through you, and you moaned around him, sending vibrations along his length. He gasped, tightening his grip on your hair.

His other hand reached down, his thumb caressing your cheek as your pink glossy lips stayed parted on his thick girth. Tears brimmed your eyes as he pushed forward once more, a part of you wanted to protest but all that came out was jumped whimpers around him.

You couldn’t respond, your mouth full of him, but the moans you let out told him everything. You took him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, and he cursed under his breath, his abs tightening.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

You nodded eagerly, his hands guided your movements, and his moans filled the air, telling you how perfect you were, how no one could ever make him feel like this. It only took a few more strokes before his hips jerked, and with a groan, he spilled into your mouth.

His head fell back, and he moaned, “Such a good girl, my good girl. You did so good for me…..sucked my cock so well.” You swallowed everything, licking him clean before pulling away, looking up at him as he watched you with hooded eyes.

Seungmin helped you up on your feet, guiding you into his arms as your lips met in a soft kiss. You could still taste his arousal on your tongue, sickeningly sweet, like some poisonous wine. That, combined with the fumes of his cologne only made you rub your heated, clothed core against him.

“My turn now, baby.” He whispers against your mouth.

Before you knew it, he was pushing you flat against the bookshelf, pinning you in place in a familiar position with his body. His mouth crashes against yours, the kiss is fierce and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves you both breathless. His hands roam your body, groping and squeezing, leaving no inch of skin untouched.

“Min–baby—Seungmin.” You forcibly broke the kiss, “We’re in a library, what if someone—”

“Don’t give a damn,” he muttered, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing right in front of him. “I’ve been thinkin’ about your cunt all fuckin' day.”

The way he talked to you—filthy, raw, unapologetically possessive—set your body alight with anticipation. You had never actually fucked in the library before, but hey, new day, new learning opportunities, right?

Seungmins hand roam your body higher and higher until they reach a point where they’re pulling your cardigan off, leaving you in an undershirt, which quickly went down too. Your eyes never left his hands, lined with beautiful veins like bolts of lighting. God, did you miss them inside of you.

“Staring darling?” Seungmin cocked his head to the side, his left hand leaving your hip and grabbing your chin with his fingers. He tilted your jaw towards him, admiring your features for a moment, before taking your skirt off in an instant, leaving you in your panties and bra.

“How about we take these off, hm?” He mumbles, his hands already fiddling with the lining of your underwear. One nod from you was all it took for Seugmin to bend down, pulling your panties along with him, revealing your pussy to him, you hissed at the exposure. You gasped softly as he trailed his way back, fingers dancing on your bare legs. His hand reached your back, smoothly unbuckling the clasp to take your bra off.

“My gorgeous baby.” He crooned at your naked figure, practically glimmering to his eyes in the dim light. The moon was full tonight and slivers of it were slithering in through the windows, decorating your body with ribbons of beauty.

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savouring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself closer to you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Your fingers tangled in his hair when he sucked on one of your nipples, your eyes closing as you let out a soft hum. His teeth gently scraped the tender flesh, and you pulled him even closer, his hands roaming up your back, making you arch into him.

“You’re so wet, baby.” Seungmin slid his hands around your hips, gripping them tight as he positioned you just where he wanted you. He taps his cock against your velvety skin, eliciting a moan.

“Go on then.” Seungmin’s voice is powerful and dominating, “Spread those legs nice and wide for me.”

Your legs trembled as you obeyed, spreading yourself open for him, your wet, swollen clit exposed to his hungry eyes. He groaned, his breath ragged with lust as he looked at you, his lips parting slightly. Both his hands were trapping you in between them, effectively pinning you in place with your back hard against the bookshelf.

Seungmin waits for nothing else, easing himself into you, he groans loudly against your neck, the warmth surrounding him feeling euphoric. His arms wrapped around you, both of you moan as he finally sinks his cock into you. He slides in too easily, so easily you almost think he’d hadn’t meant to do it.

His hips start rutting into you fast, he needs this and he has you now, he can’t stop himself. You grip his shoulders hard, gasping and wailing, the sounds only egging him on.

He’s fucking you good as ever but there’s a sort of reckless confidence in his movements. His hands reach up to your neck, grabbing it harshly. It's so hot your head spins. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Seungmin!” You cry out, your voice ripping its way out of your throat, “Min–harder..pl-please.”

Seungmin’s chuckles vibrate through your body as his fingers grip your neck even tighter. There were sure to be marks all over it the next day, but you owned makeup and he didn't give a damn. Your mouth parted open as he kept on chocking you, fuck it felt so good, you could have coated his dick with your cum right there and then. Your mind went blank; it was him and only him.

Pleasure surges through you like electricity, Seungmin’s thick cock hitting all the right spots from this angle. While you weerent expecting sex agasint a bookshelf, the intensity which he fucks you with right now makes you think you could get used to this.

But it didn't last long, as your erratic breaths turned into deeper ones, when Seungmin’s hands left your throat painfully. You whined at the feeling. But you couldn't even complain, all too distracted by his sweet cock making you ascend to the heavens.

“Min—oh fuckkkk—you feel–oh! You feel so good!” You cry out, not caring whether you were loud or not.

“Yeah?” he groans between thrusts as you whine sweetly in his ear. “You like that, princess?”

He pounds into you, glad that you don’t seem to mind his ferocity. He’ll be gentle with you some other time, but right now, all this pent-up energy needs to come out, and you’re receiving it so well.

“Taking me so well. My dirty little baby…” he chokes out, and you moan in response, seemingly touched by his words. He lifts himself up onto his hands, staring down at you, his hips slamming into yours. He watches your beautiful face in fascination as it twists with pleasure.

“mm, that’s it…f—fuck...” He grunts in your ear, making you whine in response. His thick, girthy cock was stretching your pussy out, your hole gripping his dick each time he pulled out and slammed right back into you.

His moans resembled a growl almost, as you both reached your climax. You were rendered speechless as your orgasm pulled on your core, about to send you over the edge with a few more sloppy and languid thrusts. You cry out as he stuffed your pussy, thick, hot spurts of his cum filling you up to the brim.He continued leaving sloppy kisses across your shoulder blades, beads of his sweat dripping onto your warm skin.

Seungmin doesn’t pull away until he’s certain that there’s nothing else left to give, and he winces out of sensitivity as he slowly moves back to pull out, his cock laying limp against his thigh.

“What–” You gasp out your words, despite the absolute exhaustion, “—the fuck did we just do?”

“I don’t know–fuck?”

There were mere seconds of silence before the both of you burst into giggles. You leaned your head forward to rest on Seungmin’s shoulder. Now feeling the actual effect of your tiredness.

“I’ll drop you home.” Seungmin mumbled in your ear. You nodded, feeling way too sleepy to respond. Seungmin’s eyes wandered down to your neck. He smirked at the dark blue bruises in the shape of his fingers. He would have to buy you coffee for the following year just to make up for it. He wondered what on earth you would tell your brother, lest he asked how you managed to burn your neck with a curling iron.

But that would be to wonder for later, Seungmin thought, brushing all ideas aside and helping you get dressed, his touch so soft and sweet, a contrast to his persona five minutes ago.

“Min?” You said, as Seungmin slipped your cardigan onto you. Your voice was slightly strained and slightly drowsy.

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you.”

Seungmin’s lips morphed into a smile, before they gently touched yours in a short, chaste kiss.

“I love you too, my dearest.”

Suddenly telling Changbin about you two didn’t seem too scary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And the God of the underworld loved the Goddess of Spring,

He was her darkness, and she was his light,

Without death, spring would never come,

And without spring, there would be no death.”

The air in the room stilled dramatically.

To your right sat Minho, Jisung, Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin–all with their mouths hanging open, although Jeongin’s was threatening to form a smirk. To your left sat a smiling Chan, who had his arm around another man’s shoulder. The man in question?

Your wide-eyed brother.

Since childhood, you could always figure out Changbin’s mood easily, he was practically an open book. But now, as you sat in front of him, with your now official boyfriend Seungmin next to you, yourbrother’s expression was practically impossible to read. Was it anger? Or betrayal? Or happiness even?

“Bin?” Chan soothingly said, trying hard not to laugh at Changbin’s face, “Do you have anything to say?”

Changbin’s mouth opened for a second and then closed. And then it opened again.

“So that night–” He began slowly, you saw the other boys’ heads whip around to face him, “—when I was getting the book–” He looked up at you, “–you two were....?” He ended the sentence, but everyone in the room knew what he meant. Taking a gulp, you nodded.

“Right..yeah.. Right.” Changbin exhaled, slumping back against the sofa, “Yeah..no makes total sense, yep.”

“What he means is, he’s happy for the both of you.” Chan grinned brightly. Seungmin pulled you ever so closer with the arm he had around your waist.

“Yeah.. I’m so happy.” Changbin said through gritted teeth, before suddenly sitting up straight. He directed his eyes at you, fixing you in a stare that you knew meant you were in trouble.

‘You, we’ll talk at home.” He said, before directing his eyes to Seungmin, “And you.” He narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend, who gazed on, unfazed, “If you ever break her heart or do anything to make her sad–” He straightened his spine, “–I’ll break every bone in your body.”

“That’s it?” Seungmin piped up to everyone’s surprise, “Cool, well I don’t really prefer breaking hearts so we’ll be fine hyung. Now if you’ll excuse us,” He stood up, pulling you along with him, “My girlfriend and I have a date to get to.”

Jeongin coughed loudly while the rest of them looked on with pride, barring Changbin, as you and Seungmin quickly exited the room, running off with interlocked fingers and intertwined hearts.

The room fell silent again as the boys all stared at Changbin, who was holding his head in his hands.

“Hyung?” Jeongin began with uncertainty, “Are you alri–”

“HOW ON EARTH DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM?” Changbin all but screamed, making the other flinch, “MY LITTLE SISTER, WITH HIM? I MEAN WHAT THE F–”

He continued screaming for the next five minutes, unbeknownst that the lips of two allied souls were dancing with each other, right outside the room.

As they would dance for eternity.

fin.

Taglist: @vixensss @miyeonna @15092000volcano @berntbang @cookiesandcreammy @babrieeee

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enjakey · 4 days ago

Text

Small Town Boy

Pairing: [student!Sunghoon x student!famous!fem!reader]!long lost family friends

Summary: growing up in a small town, that was all Sunghoon knew. He didn’t have big dreams of moving away and being part of the city life. His only dream was to become a chef- he didn’t know how, but he’d do it. His life in his small town is simple, serene and sometimes lonely. But he never complains. But something shifts in the familiar briney air when Y/N steps foot into town and old stories of their parents are uncovered.

i. small town boy

If there was anything Sunghoon would pride himself on, it would be the fact that he was born and raised his whole life near the coasts of the ocean.

Well, perhaps not his entire life. For his first year of high school, his parents shipped him off to boarding school in Incheon to provide their son with better education and a modern technological experience.

And a modern experience he got.

Sunghoon spent his weekends strolling around Songdo Central Park with his roommate, Jay. Every time they went out, he insisted on taking the subway and every time they had a long weekend, he would drag Jay to explore Wolmi Theme Park or spend the day snacking in Chinatown. He even had his first girlfriend, garnering his first sexual experience, which he thought he could never get enough of. But he found that his favourite thing to do was drive down the Incheon Bridge- especially at night.

Being allowed to stay past seven pm was rare, his legal guardian at the boarding school was a strict old man. When the students he was responsible for broke any rules, he would round them all up and start a lecture about how life isn't all about having fun and youth shouldn't be wasted on temporary highs.

Jay would always ask, "but shouldn't your teenage years be about memories?"

And Mr Chu, their legal guardian, would comb his bony fingers through his grey beard and say, "you can make memories when you're rich and successful."

But whenever they were able to get away with staying out past seven pm, they would be at The Tri-Bowl watching theatrical performances and admiring exhibitions before taking a taxi back to their dorms. They would drive through the Incheon Bridge on such nights and Sunghoon would always dip his head out the window with a cavernous smile and let his hair blow through the wind, eyes admiring the variety of cars zooming past him and scanning golden city lights, street lamps and apartment buildings. It was a sight unlike what he was used to, opposite to his bedroom view of the ocean crashing against a beachy shore. Instead of shady palm trees, he awed at towering street lights and instead of sighing at the smell of salty water, he inhaled the unfamiliar scent of petrol and cigarettes- which he oddly didn't mind.

Freshman year ended sooner than he expected and he found himself packing his dorm room cupboards clean. He loved the city and if he could, he would give a piece of himself to modern life but he missed his bedroom. He missed falling asleep to soothing sounds of crashing waves rather than beeping traffic. And he missed waking up to the calls of seagulls rather than annoying school bells. Before he left, Jay made him promise to keep in touch and when he reached home, Heeseung, his best friend at the time, knocked his head and questioned why he would leave behind the dream of every small town boy.

"Is dreaming about living in the city what makes the personality of everyone living here?" He asked with glossy eyes, a certain kind of loyalty towards his hometown glowing behind his irises.

"Pretty much," Heeseung shrugged with confidence, spitting out the gum he was chewing into the sandy grounds of the beach they had been sauntering.

Sunghoon gazed at the many boats drifting about the waters through wrangled air, fishermen throwing green nets in hopes of catching enough feed to sell in their stores. Then he saw a girl, about two or three years old, struggling to walk on sand as she gripped the fingers of her grandmother. Near the far end, where fishing boats were parked, was a group of middle schoolers attempting their first cigarette and indulging in their first sip of alcohol. As seagulls crooned above him, sand dusted into his eyes when Heeseung kicked his feet. A grin grew on his face, similar to the jovial laughs of the fishermen diffusing with the sulphurous air, the giggling grandmother and grandchild and the smirking group of rebellious middle schoolers.

"No," Sunghoon shook his head. "I don't think so."

Sunghoon loved the small town he lived in. He loved the misty blue sky and equally blue, vast ocean. He loved that his house was built on a beach and he loved waking up and sleeping to the lulls of waves. He loved the smell of brine and seaweed mixing with the scent of his grandmother's cooking. He loved the underqualified teachers that worked in his worn-down, ancient school. He loved the stories his grandfather told about the history of their town. And he loved that his roots were secured in his village, that his ancestors fought for the place his family held in their community.

Sophomore and junior years passed faster than the sun setting on the beach. Sunghoon spent his nights falling asleep in his mother's arms, helping his father with his logs and assisting his sister survive middle school. He spent a lot of his free time learning various recipes for how to cook fish, shrimp, tofu and beef. He found that he had quite a knack for cooking and would regularly hold dinners for his friends. His grades were better than what they were in the boarding school and he was certain that the purpose of his entire life was to go to culinary school and become a five-star Michelin chef.

The first day of senior year rolled around. When Sunghoon walked into his homeroom, there was a shift in energy unlike what he had felt the previous years and it immediately made him anxious. There wasn't much chatter, to begin with. The classroom he was once used to, the one where guys were shooting paper planes across the rooms, girls gossiping in one corner and friend groups yelling from across either end of the classroom was now filled with hushed curses about how they were all afraid of the college admissions process. Some were scared they wouldn't get into college and feared they would end up stuck in their small town working whatever mediocre job would hire them. The guys weren't worried about asking out the hottest girl in class and the girls weren't concerned about their social status. He was even surprised to see some of the backbench mischiefs sitting quietly with their textbooks open, preparing for the maths test that had been promised when everyone was back from summer break.

Or perhaps his anxiety stemmed from Heeseung's absence. Though he was a grade above him, Sunghoon always felt comfortable knowing they were at least in the same school and would meet during lunch. He felt less lonely when Heeseung was around but now he was off to college in Seoul to study economics and business management. Their only form of communication would be through the phone, a few occasional texts, and maybe a visit during Christmas if he was lucky. There would be no more late-night drives to the 24/7 convenience store to get slushies and no one to spend a whole day to game with.

With a sigh, Sunghoon slipped into the seat beside Sunoo, the only other person he was merely friends with in the rest of the school. Well, there was also Wonyoung, the it girl of his class, but that was only because they were paired up for an assignment during junior year geography and were merely acquaintances ever since.

"Everyone's so quiet," Sunghoon commented in a whisper, leaning closer to Sunoo in hopes of starting a conversation. "I would never expect this from us of all people."

Their school was rather small, as anyone would expect. They were the only school available for teenagers in their small town. The building was old and previously a funeral home before being turned into the centre of education they were burdened with now. Tearing wallpaper, lab equipment that didn't work, musty library books and shattered windows were what the students were used to all their lives. And as for Sunghoon's batch, they were the infamous ones, known for causing havoc and discord wherever they went. The teachers hated them and the principal had given up on disciplining them before the sophomore year even started. Sunghoon had never fit in, which led him to become closer to Heeseung and his peers. He was closer to the previously graduating batch but now that they were gone, he had no particular plans on befriending those in his class.

He found them obnoxious and rather immature. But knowing that he would be alone for a good chunk of the year, he wished he was back in Incheon at the boarding school with the annoying school bell. There, he would still be with his former girlfriend and with Jay and he was actually fond of most of the guys there.

Perhaps his classmates were the only thing he would deem a plague to his small town.

"This silence won't last a month," Sunoo scoffed and flipped his maths textbook shut. "I mean, have you not been with us these past years? We're a goddamn menace," he said, a chuckle almost echoing pride.

"Kind of the reason why I wanna get out of here," Sunghoon mumbled. "It'd be nice to see everyone giving a shit about their future for once."

"In your dreams," Sunoo shook his head. "You know some of them are planning to drive downtown and visit some pub? You know, Wonyoung and that gang of hers."

"So much for having a peaceful year," Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

"Savour the rest of the week, it's the only peace you'll get out of them," Sunoo gave him a firm pat on the back. "But have you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"About the new student?"

"We have a new student?" Sunghoon was almost dumbfounded. "We have new people in town?"

"How did you not hear about this? Everyone was talking about it," Sunoo gaped. "Dude, they're actors!"

"What?" Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Why would a famous family move to a small town?"

"Apparently they originated here and wanted to move out of the city for a bit," Sunoo shrugged. "But dude, she's appeared in a few movies and K-dramas. Like, she's rumoured to be the best actress of the next generation of actors!"

"Do you, like, know their names, at least?"

Before Sunoo could answer, the door to their classroom opened and he could hear soft conversation flowing between his homeroom teacher, Mr Kang, and a pair of parents that he thought looked familiar. Behind them came a girl wearing their school uniform, a vexed look on her face and clasped hands resting in front of her skirt. He recognised the father as Lee Jong-Sang, an actor exclusively limited to playing love interests. He had watched a movie of his only a few months prior and remembered critiquing it with Heeseung. The mother was an award-winning actress, Jung Eun-Chun, who starred in multiple thrillers and romantic comedies. In fact, she was the actress that played in Heeseung's favourite K-drama. As for the new girl, Sunghoon couldn’t figure out if he had seen her play a role in anything that he had watched, not even as a small character. But with the loathing she held in her face, the utter distaste she seemed to already have for the place she was standing in, she seemed like she was entitled- a stereotypical trait he thought most privileged kids had.

"Good morning, kids," Mr Kang bellowed and everyone turned to him in silence, greeting him back with expected respect. He had on his usual smile that everyone found infuriating. "It's good to see everyone back. I'm sure you've all heard the rumours about having a new kid in class; a new family in town," he raised his hand to introduce the family behind him.

Lee Jong-Sang and Jung Eun-Chun smiled between themselves and gave a brief nod. Their smiles gleamed like they were walking the red carpet and Sunghoon wondered if they were putting on a show at the moment like they did in the handful of interview clips he had seen of them. He wondered what they were thinking; what they expected each kid to act like and what their first impressions perceived each student. He wondered what convinced them to pull their daughter out of a high-class education in the big city to enrol her in a musty high school in a town that was usually forgotten to be added to the Korean map.

Lee Jong-Sang placed a protective hand on his daughter's shoulder, willing a forced smile on her face. And smile she did, but her eyes pierced through the class, a wave of indifference only Sunghoon could seemingly feel. Everyone else gawked at the family, oblivious to the obvious uninterest of the new kid.

"No one's moved here in a really long time so everyone here is kind of overwhelmed with surprise," Mr Kang chuckled animatedly. "I'm sure most of you recognise them, they're quite famous."

The parents gave a slight wave and the new kid rolled her eyes and turned her head to the side. Everyone else waved back, some even squealing in excitement.

"And here, we have Y/N," Mr Kang pointed to the girl. "She's going to spend the rest of the year with us and I'm sure most of you already know her-"

"Let's not bore them with details," Jung Eun-Chun cut in, her voice soft yet firm as she nodded at Mr Kang. She had a strong and calming energy about her, the kind a queen was expected to have; tranquil but deadly. Mr Kang nodded profusely with a flustered laugh, stepping away with a bow.

"Introduce yourself, Y/N," Mr Kang encouraged and the new kid, Y/N, took one step forward and the expression on her face flipped- annoyed to enthused.

She was a pretty good actress, Sunghoon would give her that much.

"Hey, everyone," she waved her hand slightly, cocking her head with a smile and the entire class responded back with an excited hello. She looked innocent, almost like she was trying to mimic a skittish child. "Mr Kang pretty much introduced me. I'll be looking forward to getting to know you guys, I'm sure it'll be a good year."

With another wave of her hand, she took a step back and the protective hand of her father was back on her shoulder. Y/N scanned the classroom for a brief moment in an almost obvious manner. It felt like time had stopped as her eyes moved from one end to the other, quickly taking in the expressions and features of everyone she would spend the rest of her year with. As she made her quick judgments, her previous smile disappearing into another scowl, her eyes met with Sunghoon. Barely for a brief second, perhaps less than the time taken to make up a moment, he could tell that she was already analysing him. But then she looked away and let out another inaudible scoff.

"Why is she judging us?" He mumbled under his breath, hoping that Sunoo had heard him but he was ignorant of his surroundings and concentrated on the family of celebrities- Y/N, specifically.

Mr Kang let out another chuckle, now almost resembling a giggle as he started looking around the class with squinted eyes, gaze jumping from one student to the other. He looked as though he was processing all the information he knew about each of his students- the good, the bad and the questionable. And finally, in a moment almost ironically comical, his gaze landed on Sunghoon and something metaphorical in the equally metaphorical wheels in his head clicked. His eyes widened and he sharply shook his head, but Mr Kang nodded slowly and almost knowingly before he looked at the famed family.

"Park Sunghoon could be Y/N's guide for the next few days. You know, until she gets the hang of this school," Mr Kang raised a hand towards Sunghoon.

He stood up to bow, showing his respect and willingness to help. His gaze stayed on his shoes, though he could hear the envy of everyone else's by the way their mouths gaped and eyes widened. This was probably the most amount of attention he had gotten in a long time.

"He's a good kid, does well in class," Mr Kang continued to explain to the parents and Y/N, who had a monotonous look on her face as she listened to him speak. "Also very respectful and responsible; I believe he and Y/N could become very good friends."

ii. the new kid

Lunch break came around after an excruciating period of Mrs Yang's history class. Sunghoon, up until last year, had always questioned what the significance of the subject was. It wouldn't benefit anyone that didn't want to pursue something similar. He wasn't sure how he survived the class or the ones before but his primary concern was who he was going to sit with during the break.

With a worn down, low-budget school like his, a cafeteria did not come under the list of amenities they could provide. Most kids sat under the shade of the trees with a makeshift mat made of their jackets. Others sat on random flights of stairs or on the small soccer field where the sun would beat down on them during the summer. When Heeseung was still a student, the pair would lean out one of the windows and chat about their day or the next installation of their favourite video game. Sometimes, he would bring along another friend, Jake, from his class but most of the time, they liked to enjoy each other's company.

Now, Sunghoon prayed he wouldn't have to hide out in the grungy, unsanitary bathrooms until classes started again. The now yellow tiles were rumoured to once be white.

Anxiously doubting his self-esteem, his dosirak box held with both hands, he walked down the seemingly barren hallways of his school in search of Sunoo, hoping that he would accept him into his circle until Sunghoon found an alternative to his crisis. He hated wanting to depend on other people, especially people he barely knew. For a long time, he thought he was well off alone and that he could handle the dilemma that came with not having anyone to share space or time with. But with Heeseung gone, he supposed his thin exterior of bravery left with him.

The dull, musty and chipped grey paint on the walls didn't help his mood. The colour even made the sunlight depressing. The railings to the windows had patches of some sort of fungus growing on them and some windows didn't even have railings. With the correct lighting and camera angle, he was convinced the school could be used as a perfect setting for a horror movie.

"This fucking school used to be a funeral home, perfect," he mumbled to himself, gripping his dosirak box tighter and taking longer strides.

A sudden set of footsteps startled him, making him hunch into himself and jump. His dosirak box almost slipped out of his hands and he questioned why he had to ponder about thoughts that frightened him. When he realised it was Y/N running towards him, he almost felt ashamed of his reaction.

"Sunghoon-ssi!" She called with her hand raised mid-air, sneakers meeting the floors with soft thuds as she jogged his way. Behind her stood Wonyoung and a few of her friends, expressions of awe and defeat as they watched Y/N run away from them. Literally. "Wait for me!"

Sunghoon was perplexed by the tone of her voice. She wasn't acting like she was while introducing herself in front of the class. Instead, she sounded sweet and inviting even as she smiled while approaching him. Her eyes reflected emotions he didn't notice when her parents were here. Sunghoon blinked twice at the stark contrast between who he was looking at now and who he was staring at only hours ago.

"You can eat lunch with us, you know?" Wonyoung offered from the other end of the hallway, her lips pursed into a scowl.

"That's okay," Y/N answered with an obvious ease in her voice. Her eyes relaxed into a siren, her lips offering a smirk to her obvious apathy towards Wonyoung's offer. "Sunghoon is supposed to show me around school, anyway."

While Wonyoung and her friends walked away with sneering frowns and echoing scoffs, Sunghoon stared at Y/N with a half-gaping mouth and eyes that were as wide as saucers. She was oblivious to his reaction, eyes blinking innocently as she tilted her head to look up at him. The cracked window behind them carried a gust of wind towards them, causing her hair to blow forward into a mess and his styled bangs to fall in front of his eyes. Sunghoon was briefly reminded of Jay, positive that if he were beside him, he would scold him for having messy hair and that the first rule of fashion was to have neatly kept hair- not that Sunghoon ever cared much.

"You want me to show you around school?" Sunghoon's question came out rather offensive, as though he wasn't ready to fulfil the role he was assigned. When he saw her nodding with a grin, fixing her hair with both hands, he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Yeah, sure but uh- we should probably eat first."

"Ah, fuck," she cursed while following him as he led her outside the building. "I think my parents just assumed lunch was provided so I didn't pack any food."

Sunghoon led her to the grassy field outside where students sat in their cliques, hundreds of conversations eventually morphing into white noise. Upon Y/N's statement, his eyes widened and brows furrowed, concern for her health shining in his frown when he turned around to look at her. "You're gonna starve," he said, leading her to a mouldy bench where he and Heeseung used to sit before discovering they could simply hide out in classrooms. He assumed it would be best to show Y/N the beauty of the outside rather than the worn-down ugly of the inside of their school- which he was sure she had grown accustomed to with the classes before lunch. "You can just have some of my food."

"Oh, no, that's alright," she waved her hand, making light of her situation with an embarrassed smile. Then, she stared at the bench Sunghoon had settled on, eyeing the broken wood and fungus growing from the cracks.

Sunghoon noticed her discernment towards the bench and raised his brow in question. "You're fine with starving yourself but don't wanna sit on the bench?"

"Don't say it like that," she cringed and sat beside Sunghoon, the only place that seemed clean enough that it wouldn't ruin her skirt.

"Why not?" Sunghoon slid out his chopsticks, clanking them together before indulging in his rice and pork. He didn't look up, gaze stuck to his food while he felt her eyes staring at his side profile.

"Makes me sound like a bitch," she chuckled.

"We have worse people in our class, don't worry," he offered, bringing his chopsticks into his mouth.

"Like Wonyoung and that gang of hers?" she scoffed and Sunghoon was reminded of the girl he saw standing in front of the class, the same girl that glared at him with judgement in her eyes. "They seem like a real treat."

"Wonyoung tries," Sunghoon shrugged. "Just comes off the wrong way."

"I'd say the same thing about myself," she shook her head and pursed her lips.

"Yeah, you looked like you wanted to murder us when Mr Kang introduced you," he pointed out, picking up a slice of eggroll between his chopsticks and bringing it towards her.

"You noticed that? My bad," Y/N hesitated before grabbing the eggroll with her fingers, meekly thanking him.

"Pretty sure I'm the only one who noticed," Sunghoon pursed his lips, looking back to how everyone else was staring at her and her parents with starstruck eyes. "Everyone else was... distracted."

“My parents, you mean?”

“Exactly,” he shrugged, lightly nodding as he brought his chopsticks to his mouth again. “Why’d you guys move here anyway?”

Y/N brought her palms to her thigh, sucking in a breath as she thought about her answer. “Well, it’s a long story,” she cringed. “But the gist? They just wanted me to experience the simplicity of coastal towns or something. You know how rich parents get sometimes.”

“So, you acted like a brat and this is your punishment?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

The silence between them that followed wasn’t awkward like Sunghoon expected. Instead, it was filled with Y/N comically clearing her throat, her fist covering her lips that pursed in a straight line. Sunghoon chuckled at her, recognising the reflection of a character from a Disney movie from back when he was in middle school. He was reminded of Camp Rock, that one movie starring Joe Jonas who was booted to a musical summer camp because his music career was going awry. Not only did he redeem himself at the camp but he also found the love of his life. In a way, maybe the run-down high school located in the outskirts of their small town could be Y/N’s summer camp.

In the midst of his chuckling, Y/N joined in with him and they looked at each other for a moment, eyes squinting from glee and teeth peeking from behind their lips. Sunghoon hadn’t properly conversed with anyone since Heeseung packed his bags and left for Seoul, let alone have a laugh with someone. The last conversation he could recall that lasted over five minutes was probably with his sister who was complaining about never having been to a mall- no actually, it was with his dad who was talking about his days serving in the military. That happened around a week ago.

“So, what’d you do?” Sunghoon asked, pointing his chopsticks at her.

“What?”

“Your big fuck up,” he clarified. “The reason why you moved here?”

“Oh, well,” she started. “I tried sneaking out to this party the night before an exam and yeah… now I’m here.”

“Ah, so you’re a drinker,” he observed.

“That’s a bit presumptuous.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“No, you’re right,” she sighed in defeat. “But only once in a blue moon!”

With another laugh, Sunghoon offered her his last eggroll and he was leading her to their next class- Geography with Mrs Choi. The class was known to be infamous for forging new friendships and relationships. It was where Sunoo got the guts to talk to his future girlfriend and it was where Heeseung met the girl he lost his virginity to. It was also the class where Wonyoung and Sunghoon became acquaintances but that relationship didn’t become anything bigger than that. Mrs Choi’s Geography class, though it was tremendously boring and was also known to be a class where most could sleep in the back of the classroom, was where a lot of blessings took place.

And it would also become the class Sunghoon found a bigger reason to befriend Y/N.

A week into school, Mrs Choi had assigned one of her notorious assignments- to pick a country and outline its natural landmarks in five thousand words or above. He used to laugh at Heeseung and Jake whenever they complained about the very assignment last year but now that he was suffering through it, he understood it was no laughing matter. The assignment was to be completed in pairs and last year, Heeseung and Jake did it together on India. Now, Sunghoon was being paired up with Y/N and when they started discussing the project, neither of them had any clue on how to do it or which country to research on.

During that week, Y/N had pretty much gotten the hang of surviving in their school. She started bringing her own lunch and learned to never use the school washroom regardless of how big an emergency it was. She didn’t get lost in the hallways anymore, which meant that she didn’t need Sunghoon to lead her around. Somehow, using her fame to her advantage, she had befriended Sunoo and his friends but it never stopped her from sitting on the mouldy bench to eat lunch with Sunghoon. However, when they looked at the assignment paper in front of them and then at each other, all they could feel was awkwardness.

If there was anything that Sunghoon realised about friendships or any other sort of relationships that developed, it was that they all had a line that shouldn’t be crossed. His and Heeseung’s line, despite knowing almost everything about each other, was detailing their sexual experiences because talking about it would just become unpleasant- they didn’t need that image in their heads. His limit with Sunoo stayed within conversations during homeroom. If they ever tried hanging out outside of the safety of their classroom with Mr Kang, they wouldn’t know what to say to each other. Just like that, his and Y/N’s line was chatting during lunch and sending each other the occasional wave of hands when they walked past each other. The pair did not know how to work together on a project that could possibly be worth a quarter of their final grade.

Group projects had always been nerve wracking for Sunghoon. It meant giving up his freedom and independence to create something on his own and it meant listening to ideas that he would definitely never approve of. His best grades came from assignments he worked on alone and his best grades came from exams he studied by himself. Now, as he looked at Y/N, he wasn’t sure what to expect of himself or her while working on this essay.

When Y/N came to the small town and when her parents enrolled her in the crumbling high school, she didn’t think she needed to put much effort to pass her classes. Surely, a terribly funded public school would have less of a syllabus than that of the high-end private schools she attended in Seoul. She assumed it meant less studying, less preparations for exams and no complicated group assignments or essays to complete. She assumed such a school wouldn’t give elaborate assignments that would accumulate to a quarter of her final grade. Sitting in front of the assignment paper brought a wave of nerves to the tips of her fingers, her hands moving to pick at loose skin surrounding her nails. In a moment of frenzy and awkwardness, she gulped and looked at Sunghoon with a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“You’re smart, right?” She asked, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Depends on how you define it,” Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, darting his gaze across the contorted features of her expression- raised brows, wide eyes, quivering hands and trembling lips. “Not a fan of group work, huh?”

“Gives me anxiety,” she admitted. “Are you?”

“I hate it, too,” he said. “But for different reasons.”

After school, Sunghoon found himself walking in the direction of Y/N’s house instead of his own. He was expecting her to have a driver pick her up and drop her off everyday but turns out, her only modes of transportation were her feet or her baby-blue bicycle- which she rarely used. Besides, in a small town like such, there wouldn’t be much need for a car when everything was less than a ten minute walk away. There wasn’t much talk between the pair as she led him to her house. He would point out some of the town's significant landmarks- there was the bakery that was opened by the town’s beloved Ajjuma before the town was even established as an individual entity and there was the only bar that unemployed men in their twenties would visit from time to time. There was also the statue of a fish that was placed right in the centre of the town square where many local events would be held. There was the famous food fair that was held every June and the place where horror movies would be projected onto a white sheet every Halloween night; people would spend the entire night out in the open, watching these movies with friends and family on huge picnic mats and large jugs of beverages. Every Christmas, the mayor would ship out a huge tree so that the kids could decorate it with all sorts of ornaments and pictures.

There was a reason why he loved his town and this was it.

When the pair finally reached her house, they were met with an almost cinematic and dramatic view. Her father was leaning against the white picket fence that lined their front porch. His hair followed the direction of the wind, mimicking the swift ruffles of the wet clothes that hung from a wire on the other side of the porch. Behind him was a white wicker coffee table where his wife, Y/N’s mother, sat. She sipped on what looked like a mug of tea, its steam forming a cloud of smoke above the red, porcelain mug.

Their house looked pretty much the same as his, except it was a tad bit larger and its porch wrapped around the circumference of the house. They also had a small shed for parking their car. White paint was chipping and a few tiles from their roof were missing. Exactly three stairs led to the front door and the windows were identical to the ones in his house. To be fair, most houses in his town looked identical.

When Y/N called out for her parents, her arm raised in the air as she waved to them and greeted them with a toothy smile, they snapped out of their daze and turned their head towards her. Their eyes wandered to Sunghoon, eyeing how he meekly followed behind her footsteps. When he realised he was being watched, he offered them a lopsided grin, bowing ever so slightly as he approached closer to them.

“I see you’ve brought a friend,” her father observed as he wrapped an arm around Y/N in a hug. “Sunghoon, right? Mr Kang introduced you.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunghoon bowed again, his hands fisting at his sides. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“My dad is very involved in school matters and shit,” Y/N said, patting her father on the chest before coaxing Sunghoon to come closer to the house.

“Language, Y/N,” her mother rolled her eyes and set her tea aside. Slowly, she turned towards Sunghoon and bowed her head as a greeting and he offered her one back. “What are you kids up to?”

While Y/N moved to stand on the patio, Sunghoon stood frozen on the other side of the picket fence. He could hear floorboards creaking and focused on the melodies it created rather than the judgemental looks her parents were passing him. A random boy invited to the home of a famous family- he supposed it was only natural to be wary of him before becoming comfortable around him. After all, through various media articles he read on his phone, celebrities needed to be cautious around the public so as to not get doxed or sabotage their personal lives.

“We were assigned a project,” Y/N said. “So I thought we’d get started.”

“When is it due?” Her father asked.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Sunghoon from over her shoulder, hoping he would know. “By the end of the semester,” he said with a gulp.

“Then you have plenty of time,” her father enthused with a gleaming smile. “But it’s better to finish it sooner rather than later.”

“I say we finish little by little,” Y/N grinned and made her way to the front door. Sunghoon followed suit, ignoring the eyes of her parents and slipping in without saying another word.

The interiors of their house were rather different from his. It was more spacious, more empty. They had the same white walls but their curtains were blue, their kitchen larger than the living room. Most houses had items scattered around them to mark them as home of the families living in them. Pictures, per se, hung on the walls or medals and trinkets collected on vacation. Throw pillows and stuffed toys, perhaps. Y/N’s house, however, had nothing of the sort. The living room was only furnished with a large grey sofa and a flat screen television that was definitely purchased in the city. Their kitchen looked like it had barely been touched before, the dining table standing mere inches away from the countertops

“You’re house is so-”

“Barren? Yeah, I know,” she said and Sunghoon cleared his throat while following her up the stairs. They were creaky like they were in his house, floorboards bending with the weight of his step. “It’s my dad’s childhood home.”

“Would I know your grandparents?”

“Your parents might know them.”

When she opened the door to what he presumed was her bedroom, he was met with the site of three kittens lounging in front of her bed. They were little, literally what he could describe as tiny balls of fur- one white, one grey and the other orange. When he approached them, they didn’t scurry away like he expected but instead turned to face him and tilted their heads to meet his gaze. Their meows could barely be heard over Y/N’s chuckles, their tails wagging from side to side.

“You have pets,” he stated, surprised. He stared at the kittens blankly, only allowing the corner of his lips to tug up when the grey one started tugging at the end of his jeans.

“Yeah, we got them like two days ago,” Y/N sat at the edge of her bed, her arm stretching behind her so she could glance at Sunghoon’s interactions with her pets. “They’re adorable, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“You can pet them, you know? They don’t bite.”

Slowly, Sunghoon crouched down and stretched his hands to pet the kitten closest to him. Two fingers stroked the space between its white ears and it responded with a purr while closing its eyes. He chuckled in response, letting it find shelter under his palm while the other two stomped towards Y/N. She picked them up and placed them on her bed, letting them get swallowed by her cushiony duvet.

“They’re named Cloud, Silver and Cinnamon- I guess you can figure out who is who,” with a grin, she plopped herself in the middle of her bed, head nestled in her blue pillows while her kittens climbed on top of her. “All girls, all blue eyes.”

“Must have cost a shit ton of money, huh?” He breathed and picked up Cloud with his hand. She was as light as a feather, bending like a spring as he brought her onto the bed and sat on the edge himself.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” She asked.

“You just don’t seem like an animal person, is all.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I love animals, love pets.”

“They’re gonna be distracting,” he mumbled, watching Cloud climb and tumble over his thigh. He giggled. “They’re so fucking adorable.”

He brought Cloud close to his chest, a bright smile in his face as he stretched his legs out and leaned against the headboard. When he felt his shoulder brush against hers, he observed her room. The windows looked like they were new instalments, wispy blue curtains moving ghostly with the wind. She had a bay window- something that most kids in the town, including him, didn’t have- that was aligned with stuffed toys of all sorts. There was a classic brown bear, an elephant, a shark, a purple giraffe, a dog and a leopard- she wasn’t kidding when she said she loved animals. Her desk was tidy with a few scattered pens and a pile of books in the corner, her bed equally as neat and comfortable. Sunghoon leaned further into the bed, letting out a comfortable sigh.

“They’re great to be around with when you’re stressed,” Y/N said, guiding Cinnamon as she climbed her torso and perched on her shoulder. Silver stayed nuzzled in her palms, purring herself to sleep. “They’re so small and fluffy.”

“Yeah, they are.”

For about an hour or so, honestly Sunghoon couldn’t keep up with time, the pair sat on Y/N’s bed with no conversation flowing between them. Their attention was on the kittens, getting lost in their crystalline blue eyes and giggling at their feline antics. If he was being honest, Sunhoon was mostly glad for their lack of interaction. He wouldn’t know what to talk about if they had nothing else to say about the cats and talking about their assignment- the whole reason he was at her home, in her room, in the first place- would become too strenuous. The sun set behind them and moonlight filtered through her blue curtains when finally, Y/N led her pets out of her room and brought out the assignment paper.

Even then, they could only focus on it for about forty-five minutes because her mother came in and insisted on their guest staying for dinner. “We had the chef cook up something special,” she said and he didn’t have the heart to decline her offer.

When he walked down the rickety stairs, wondering how Y/N was used to such an environment after growing up in luxurious houses and driving around on roads that could certainly occupy more than two cars, he saw the dinner table filled with all sorts of freshly cooked dishes. Steam rose from the heat of the rice and broths and disappeared into flickering tubelight. The moon was already up and Sunghoon was sliding into the chair beside Y/N, opposite of her father.

As everyone ate, her father was booming with excitement while starting all sorts of conversations. His chopsticks were raised in the air as he spoke enthusiastically with different hand gestures, his eyes squinting as he entertained himself and everyone else on the table. Y/N humoured him by making jokes and laughing at his statements, her mother chuckling and softly adding in on the conversation. Sunghoon, not feeling out of place, only laughed awkwardly when he wasn’t answering any questions thrown at him. His thoughts wondered a lot as he listened to the family of actors speak, poking around his rice and seared beef. He always thought Y/N’s family would be cold and distant, similar to how famous and rich families were portrayed in movies and shows. But her family was rather warm to the sight, seeing how everyone got along. He tried piecing together how Y/N ended up being the drinking and sneaking out type but he couldn’t wrap his finger around it. He supposed not everyone could be explained and defined so easily.

“By the way, Sunghoon,” her father looked towards him, raising a curious brow. “Where do you live?”

“Oh,” Sunghoon clears his throat, shifting in his chair and gripping his chopsticks tighter. “Not too far from here, actually. I live near the further end of the coast? Right by the two palm trees?” He explained and watched as his eyes shimmer.

With raised brows of realisation, a sparkle in his eyes, he asked, “you’re not Park Kwangho’s son, are you?”

“You know my dad?”

Y/N’s brows raised when her father started beaming, letting out a hearty laugh as he looked at his wife. “I can’t believe it! This is such a coincidence!”

“Is he the one you always talk about, honey?” Her mother asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Our dad’s know each other,” Y/N turned to Sunghoon, her voice falling flat like she was stating the obvious rather than revealing a secret. “Wow.”

“We were quite close in high school,” her father smiled widely, making Sunghoon and Y/N focus back on him. “We lost touch a while after we graduated- but my dear, I am so glad to meet you Sunghoon,” he laughed.

Sunghoon offered another flustered laugh. “I’m sure my dad will be excited to know you’re back in town,” he said, wondering why his father would never mention such a piece of information. If he knew anything about his father, Park Kwangho, he would have bragged about it with anyone he conversed with.

“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” Y/N grinned. “How you and I ended up becoming project partners?”

“Yes, it really is amazing,” her mother reveled.

“You know back then? Your high school used to be a funeral home and us kids had to take the best to the neighbouring town for school,” her father enlightened with a nostalgic taste on his tongue. His eyes wandered as though he was reminiscing his younger days, the easier times. “It was where your father met your mother, in fact.”

Sunghoon was only starting to realise how little he knew about his parents and their teenage years but he certainly knew the story of how they met. It was a sweet story, really. It’s exactly something one would expect out of a nineties high school romance. He would always have to take the bus to the neighbouring town on the weekend if he wanted to see her, sneaking behind his parents’- Sunghoon’s grandparents’- backs. He would always bring her hand picked flowers and they always hang out at the local theatre because it was the only place they could find privacy.

It was cute, like something out of a movie. High school sweethearts.

“How does he not know we’re in town?” Y/N asked in confusion. “Surely he must know, I mean, apparently the entire town was gossiping about it for a while,” she said and her parents encouraged an answer out of him with a nod.

“I don’t know,” Sunghoon lowered his head, almost ashamed. “Maybe he knows but just doesn’t have means of contact, I suppose. I haven’t mentioned anything about school recently either, so,” he shrugged, defeated.

“Oh, our families must meet soon,” Lee Jong-Sang, apparently his father’s old friend, clapped in enthusiasm. “I know you and Kim Jiyoung will get along very well, honey,” he looks to his wife, Jung Eun-Chun, who he met during his time in the acting industry, who had no connection to the small town whatsoever.

Sunghoon almost gaped when he heard his mother’s name rolling off his tongue with ease. How did he remember their names even after so many years? Years of no contact?

“Are you an only child, Sunghoon?” He asks.

“No, I’ve got a younger sister. Yeji.”

“Oh, I’m just so happy right now,” he clasped his hands together, lolling his head towards his wife with the happiest smile, a smile that shone with pride. “Kwangho always used to say he wanted an older boy and younger girl.”

Sunghoon almost cringed as he said the words and Y/N stifled a giggle, noticing his shifting expressions. He and Heeseung never talked about such a thing with each other, discussing what they envisioned their future families to look like. As far as he knew, Heeseung just wanted to sleep around from girl to girl until he was old with back pain and even this was an assumption he was making. He supposed the nineties were rather mellow compared to what society was now.

“I don’t know why my parents never told me they knew you guys,” Sunghoon mumbled. It was surprising to him, especially considering the fact that he and Heeseung had talked about them before and praised their characters in whatever movie or K-drama they starred in.

It was weird to even comprehend the fact that he was sitting across from them, sharing dinner with them, while only a couple months ago, he was watching them on screen.

“I’m not surprised,” Lee Jong-Sang waved it off. “I know them well enough. They aren’t the type to talk much about the past. Am I right?”

Sunghoon wearily nodded. The most his parents had ever told him about was how they met. He and his sister were in the dark about their childhoods and high school experiences, how they came about convincing their parents to get them married or how they invested in their business that required his father to make constant visits to Incheon. He wasn’t sure if he should consider asking them, at least now, after so much he learnt from somehow he should consider a stranger.

iii. high school reunion

When Sunghoon reached home, he felt an eerie shift in the atmosphere of his familiar living room. Everything was exactly as he remembered seeing it before, the couch, the television, the pictures of his family and his ancestors hung on the walls- it was all occupied with memories of his own childhood. But it was only now that he was realising a whole lifetime of events had taken place in this very house, from before he was born. This very house, the house he loved to live in because it was on the beach, was where his father made his childhood memories, had his friends around for birthdays and it was probably where he hung around with Lee Jong-Sang, his high school friend. He failed to ever consider the history of his house and his eyes opened to a whole new point of view.

When he crept to the kitchen, he saw his mother sitting on the dinner table, scrolling on her phone while a huge pile of unwashed dishes stacked on the sink. From upstairs, he could hear his father speaking on the phone, probably with an investor for his business. His grandfather had a habit of snoring loudly and tonight was like no other, the low rumbles of his snores filling the house like white noise. From his sister’s room, he could hear music playing and he wondered how loud it must have been for her ears.

Everything seemed standard, just like it was everyday, repetitive and comfortable. But today, there was a ball of uneasiness growing in his throat, it almost felt like rage, disappointed that he knew so little about his parents- but he wasn’t sure who to be disappointed in, himself for not asking questions or his parents for never mentioning anything about their younger days in the first place.

“Oh, Sunghoon!” His mother yelped when she saw him entering her line of vision. “You’re home,” she smiled, watching him slip his coat off and drape it on one of the chairs. “Grandma said she missed your cooking today, said you make the best scallion pancakes.”

Sunghoon ignored the wistful softness in his mother’s voice and he almost felt guilty. But he also knew he’d get no sleep if he spent the night wondering more about Y/N, her family and their relationship with his parents. “Why didn't you ever tell me you knew Lee Jong-Sang?” His question came out with a scowl, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” Sunghoon was sure that in that split second where his mother blinked at her thoughts, she was trying to act oblivious. Her lips pressed into a thin line and her cheeks grew redder by the second. Sunghoon wasn’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or something else utterly. “Honey-”

“Lee Jong-Sang. The actor. You knew him, you and dad,” he wasn’t questioning her now, just stating what he knew to be sure after seeing his mother’s expression.

He didn’t know if it was simply perfect timing or if he had heard what was unravelling in the kitchen but his father walked in, his phone held a few inches away from his ear as though he had just ended a call. His brows were furrowed, presumably at the mention of a familiar name, and his lips were parted in thought. His presence made his mother calm down, a sigh visibly existing her lungs and her eyes shut for a brief moment in relief.

“What are you talking about, Sunghoon?” He asked, stepping beside his wife.

Sunghoon looked between his parents with eyes that never relaxed, chewing his bottom lip before repeating himself. “You knew Lee Jong-Sang?”

His father was silent for a moment, his expression blank as though he was thinking of a viable answer to respond with. Sunghoon was certain that, like his mother, that his father too wanted to feign oblivion. But then he cracked a small smile, one that told Sunghoon that he accepted that another secret of theirs had been revealed. It was the same smile he’d seen on his father when he would accidentally ruin a surprise, like the time he told Yeji about the bicycle he had bought for her eleventh birthday. His mother, now completely relaxed, looked between the two and then breathed a chuckle of her own.

“Yes, we went to high school together,” his father mused. “Who told you that?”

“I was just in his house.”

At that, his parents’ eyes widened more in confusion than in shock. “What?” They exclaimed in unison.

“I’m project partners with his daughter,” Sunghoon flailed his arms, looking between them. “They told me that you three used to be close. He was saying how our families should meet soon. How do you not know that he’s back in town?”

“Well, we heard rumours that his old house was occupied but I didn’t know it was actually him,” His father scratched the back of his, stretching his shoulders which made his shirt slightly expose a bit of his stomach. “This is almost embarrassing.”

“It certainly was for me,” Sunghoon huffed.

“Oh, honey, is that why you’re angry?” His mother chuckled. “That we never told you?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon gritted. “Why did you never care to mention that you knew him? Heeseung and I have mentioned him and his shows so many times, we’ve watched him on screen together so many times but you’ve never bothered to mention-”

“Honey, I think you’re looking too far into this,” his mother insisted while his father agreed with a hum and nod. “We just felt that some things are better unsaid, you know? We always thought you and your sister would get too excited if we ever told you and would ask to meet him but… when he left, we didn’t keep in touch.”

Sunghoon turned his gaze towards his socks-clad feet, his lips now pursed in thought. He supposed their explanation made sense. He supposed it was one of those things where parents’ logic in general didn’t make sense, like how sometimes they wouldn’t let him have fun two days in a row or wouldn’t let him eat a certain brand of chips even after having consumed it so many times before. He chose not to question it further, thinking that he’d become more frustrated with the vague answers they would always give him during most conversations. The more he thought about it, the more he realised keeping such a piece of information in the dark wasn’t so out of character for his parents.

“But, yes, I supposed we should go pay them a visit soon, no?” His father suggested and looked between Sunghoon and his wife, hand still scratching the nape of his neck.

That night, Sunghoon had texted Heeseung about the revelations of the day. At first, when he told Heeseung that he was alone with a girl in her room, he assumed that he had gotten laid. But when he finished his story and explained how his parents had known Lee Jong-Sang, of all people, and was in the home of one of his favourite actresses and was project partners with the couple’s daughter, Heeseung immediately called him and screamed into the phone.

“Why does shit like this happen when I’m not there, goddamn it! I’m coming back for winter break and you better fucking introduce me.”

Sunghoon could only laugh into the speaker, his hair splaying across his pillow as he twisted and turned. “If you think you’ve got any chance with Y/N, though, then get that thought out of your head.”

“Why? You think you’ve got a chance with her?”

“Ok, that’s it. Good night, Hyung,” he said with a roll of his eyes and hung up.

Sunghoon couldn’t sleep a wink that night, his mind playing the events of the day in a loop. He thought of Y/N and her room, her three little pet kittens that looked like they came out of one of those cute animal videos from the internet and her parents that were too good to be true. He thought of his parents again, how their life must have been like in high school, how it would be experiencing a life from their generation. Things sounded easier back then, especially when it came to crucial subjects like education, finance and careers. Obviously, he knew living in their generation, the golden nineties, wasn’t what the internet made it seem like- flower bouquets, jazzy fashion, groovy music and grainy films- but he found himself wondering if he would have been better off in times like those instead of his generation, the generation of technology.

Fortunately for him, the next day was a Saturday and he slept into the afternoon. He woke up groggy, his mouth covered with stench when he stumbled into the living room, the ends of his hair going against gravity to stand straight up. He found his parents and grandparents gathered in the living room, sipping on tea while they engaged in some conversation that required light chuckling and nodding of their heads. It was only then, while he brought a hand up to scratch the side of his head, that he realised there were guests in his living room. And not ordinary guests, oh no, it was the celebrity family relocated to their small town, Y/N and her parents.

Just as he was realising this, Y/N and her parents turned to him with wide smiles as greetings and his hands immediately flew to hair to tame it. Everyone laughed as his eyes widened, slowly making his way to stand behind his grandma while waving at the unexpected guests.

“Morning, Sunghoon,” Y/N grinned, shyly flickering her gaze between him and her tea.

“Hey, everyone,” he grogged, embarrassed by his existence. “Sorry…”

“Honey, go freshen up before you embarrass yourself more of yourself,” his mother coaxed while shooing him with her hands.

Sunghoon flashed Y/N another grin, his sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips, and he dashed back into his room. As he closed his door, he could hear his grandparents proudly explaining how he was going to cook brunch because it was a tradition that’d been kept up since he decided he was going to culinary school.

After Sunghoon styled his hair and wore something that was more presentable than his striped pyjamas- jeans and a white shirt, he sauntered into the kitchen without bothering to polite himself in the living room again. He was still trying to process the fact that Y/N was in his house, talking to his parents like it was the easiest thing in the world. Sunghoon could never do that, talk to strangers without stuttering or feeling self-conscious. He was never really a people-person, it was a miracle he even had Heeseung as his friend.

While he cooked, he also continued to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place in the living room and chuckled whenever he found something funny. His grandparents were reminiscing on the mischievous antics of his dad and Lee Jong-Sang back in their high school days and how shocked they were when they found out his dad was dating some woman- now, his mother- from the neighbouring town. “We always thought Jong-Sang would get married first,” they said and Jung Eun-Chun burst into laughter.

When the rice cooker dinged, he heard footsteps leading into the kitchen. Like most teenagers of his age, he knew how to recognise the specific member of his family based solely on their footsteps. His mother’s was fast and clanky while his father’s was slow and heavy, just like his sister’s. His grandparents walked like they floated, their footsteps barely making any sound. He learned to guess accurately, though, after a certain amount of this. This set of footsteps wasn’t anything he recognised. It couldn’t be Lee Jong-Sang or Jung Eun-Chun because he could still hear their voices from the living room. It also couldn’t be his sister because she had woken up early to visit her friends. So, he deduced it was Y/N.

He was right.

She hovered behind him for a few seconds, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking back and forth on her feet. A nervous smile cracked on her lips and she moved to stand beside him, her palms splaying flat on the kitchen countertops. “Your grandparents were telling us stories,” she sounded like she was excited to start a conversation with him. She looked at him while she spoke, her eyes trailing the curve of his nose and angle of his jaw. “Wanna hear some?”

“Don’t worry, I could hear everything,” he said, smiling as he took the rice out of the cooker. He refused to reciprocate her eye contact, scared that he might find himself blushing.

He was only starting to accept the fact that he wasn’t only surprised by her presence in his house but also flustered. He swore he felt more self-conscious while dressing himself than he ever had before, wondering if Y/N would like the particular shirt he was wearing or if she would judge by his choice in jeans. In the end, he decided that dressing simple was his best bet in impressing her- and he was scared to even accept that.

What changed? He asked himself the same question over and over again before Y/N had walked into the kitchen. It’s probably just a crush.

“Our dads were stupid enough to get stung by a jellyfish,” the laugh she was trying to suppress squeezed out of her throat as a giggle. The back of her hand covered her mouth as she turned to lean her back against the counters. “I do not want to know what happened after that.”

“You know what they say you should do after getting stung by a jellyfish?” Sunghoon smirked, pausing from chopping carrots and pointing his knife in her direction.

“Exactly,” she said. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But I’m gonna say it anyway,” he teased. “You gotta p-”

“Sunghoon!” She laughed, flinging her hands up to cover his mouth. They stayed in that position for exactly a second before Sunghoon turned away, his bangs falling on his eyes as he continued to chop vegetables. “So, you cook, huh?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“And you’re going to culinary school?”

“Yup.”

“I think that’s really cool,” she mused. “I wish I knew how to cook. Seems cheaper than ordering fried udon every time you crave it.”

“Aren’t you rich?” Sunghoon raised a confused brow but his grin never faltered. “Since when did you need to worry about money?”

“Hey, I get a very limited amount of pocket money,” she defended, a twinkle in her eyes as she leaned closer to him. “Saving is good,” she stated with a finger in the air.

“Can’t argue with you there,” he sighed. “You like fried udon?”

“Love it,” she admitted.

“Maybe the next time you come over, I can make fried udon,” he offered. He had tossed all the chopped vegetables into a wok and was about to burn the oven.

“I’d like that,” she said, slightly taken aback. Just yesterday, Sunghoon was talking and acting like a robot around her, forcing out responses to their conversations. But he was more easy-going today like some kind of weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Do you need any help?”

Around an hour later, everyone had taken their seats on the dining table. The grandparents sat at either end, Sunghoon’s family on one side and Y/N’s family on the other. As far as Sunghoon could remember, brunch went by in a blur of compliments towards the chef, laughter and more stories from back when his parents were in high school. For the first time in a long time, he had seen his grandmother laughing without worrying about chest pains. Occasionally, he and Y/N would make eye contact from across the table, grinning awkwardly at each other and hiding their smiles whenever their feet knocked against each other under the table. Sunghoon found himself doing it purposely just so he could see her flustered smile.

“This impromptu reunion was amazing, huh?” Lee Jong-Sang beamed and everyone nodded as if it were their second nature.

“Maybe if you guys gave us a heads up next time, we can clean up the house,” Sunghoon’s mother joked.

“What does she mean?” Sunghoon turned to Y/N, leaning over the table so she could better hear her whisper.

“We kinda… surprised you guys in the morning,” she shrugged. “Pulled up last minute.”

“Ah,” he nodded with pursed lips and gave her a thumbs up.

Just as the conversation steered into Sunghoon’s dad’s business, he jerked a look at Y/N and nodded towards the stairs that lead to his room. She nodded, finishing up the food left in her bowl and slowly pushing her chair back to follow Sunghoon.

No one noticed their disappearance upstairs.

Y/N wasn’t expecting to see the walls of Sunghoon’s room to be practically empty. She was expecting to see posters of rock bands and whatever it was that geeks were interested in but it was the complete opposite. His walls were painted the same colour as hers and his bedsheets were black, along with his pillows and blanket. His laptop rested on his study table beside a pile of neatly stacked textbooks. There was a small framed picture of him and his sister together, standing in front of a ferris wheel while throwing up peace signs. She picked it up to examine it, thinking he hadn’t changed at all, while he plopped himself on the foot of his bed.

“How long ago was this?” She asked, brushing her fingers along the frame.

Sunghoon sucked in a breath through his teeth, leaning against his palms as he pondered. “I don’t know,” he said. “Seven… eight years ago?”

“Well, you look exactly the same.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot.”

And that was it. The easy chemistry that was brewing between them downstairs had bubbled back down to the awkwardness that hovered over them like the day before. Sunghoon squirmed in his bed, stretching his collar with his finger to ease the drop of sweat dripping down his neck and Y/N, seemingly reading his mind, stood with her back facing him, her eyes wandering to the bookcase hung over his study table. She let her fingers slide down the spines, recognising famous titles like How to Kill a Mockingbird or Romeo and Juliet, but there were others she didn’t recognise- The City of Eight Graves, Coin Locker Babies and there was one about Korea’s changing history.

“You like to read?” She asked.

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Do you?”

“Sometimes,” she looked over her shoulder to reveal her smirk and turned so she could face him. Swiftly, she relaxed herself in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, continuing to examine his room to subdue whatever awkward air there was.

“Hey,” he called before he even stirred up a question in his head. He wanted to slap himself, almost cringed before a lightbulb flickered in his brain. “What do you wanna do for college?”

“Architecture,” she answered without missing a heartbeat, smiling fondly to herself. “There’s this school in Zurich that I’m really keen on going to.”

“I didn’t peg you as an architecture girl,” Sunghoon cocked his head and leaned forward, balancing his chin on his fist and his elbow on his knee.

“Well, yeah,” she pursed her lips. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I guess I’m like Ted from How I Met Your Mother.”

“Never watched that show.”

“Are you kidding?” Y/N was truly stunned, gaping her mouth and widening her eyes at Sunghoon as if she were feigning offence. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I really haven't!” Sunghoon raised his hands in defence.

“Have you watched Friends, at least?”

Sunghoon shook his head hesitantly.

“Brooklyn nine-nine!?”

“Yeah, I’ve watched that,” Sunghoon nodded proudly, relieved that they had at least one thing in common. “Attack on Titan?”

“Oh my God, you like it?” She yelped in excitement and he nodded again. “I’m so glad you like it, none of my friends back home like it!”

iv. halloween

Y/N had set up a mat separate from her parents and Sunghoon’s parents so she could enjoy the town’s Halloween movie night with him. She bought caramel apples and buttered popcorn from the stalls scattered around the town centre and spread a blanket over her legs because autumn’s chilly wind seeped through the fabric of her tights. She had put more effort into her clothing choice, hoping to look better and perhaps get Sunghoon’s attention in her skirt and sweater. She was wondering if she should have just worn pants if it meant she might catch a cold.

Ever since that brunch at Sunghoon’s house, all those weeks ago, the pair found themselves at each other's house every consecutive day. Sometimes, their excuse would be working on the geography project and other times, they would watch Friends or How I Met Your Mother on Y/N’s television while playing with her kittens. They had grown noticeably, their tails much longer and fluffier, their torsos longer than she had remembered. They ate more now, which meant a lot of her pocket money was spent towards cat food.

They only ever worked on their project when they were in Sunghoon’s room but they would most probably start talking about something else. She would tell him about the gossip Sunoo would fill her in on and Sunghoon would simply nod because it wasn’t something he was interested in but listened regardless because he liked when she rambled. He would make her fried udon a lot of the times when she came over and he even taught her how to make it so that she could make it at home.

In the time that they spent together, it was only natural that they learned a lot about each other. And it wasn’t like one night they had just decided to spill their deepest, darkest secrets, no. It was a arthur slow process, one that took a myriad of random and embarrassing conversation starters that got Y/N to open up about how she hated the fact that her parents were famous and got Sunghoon to admit that he had a hard time making friends only in the small town because it was hard to relate to everyone else. He admitted that making friends in Incheon was much simpler; it was like making lemonade, he said.

One night, when Y/N had trouble sleeping, she called Sunghoon at around two in the morning. “Wanna come over?” She whispered into her phone with plea and hope. Sunghoon could almost hear her doe eyes through the plastic screens.

“You want me to sneak out?” He muttered groggily, running his palm down the side of his face as he fought a yawn.

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you sneak over?” He challenged. “We can sit out at the beach.”

“I hate the beach,” she said it like he was supposed to know- which he did, he just chose to ignore it because he was sleepy. “Plus, it’s too risky for me.”

“And it’s not risky for me?”

“You know it’s not.”

She was right, his parents were more oblivious than hers.

“Come on,” he tried. “You come over, it’ll be fun.”

“I hate the beach,” she repeated. “It’s icky.”

“It’ll be romantic,” he partially sang and partially said it with sarcasm.

Y/N snorted. “Stop joking around and sneak over. We can hang around on my roof,” she hung up after that.

Surely enough, Sunghoon showed up around ten minutes later and the pair stealthily climbed to her roof through her window. They sat there listening to The Neighbourhood and Arctic Monkeys while eating leftover apple slices they found in the fridge. They thought they would indulge in conversation but they were left alone in comfortable silence, their only company being the twinkling stars and the moon that looked blue. If they listened close enough, they could hear the waves crashing onto the beach and trees rustling.

A few nights later, when they had finished almost half of their geography project, Y/N called him late in the night again, but she called much earlier this time. “Do you know how to drive?” She asked in the same whisper that she had when she asked him to sneak over.

“Depends why you ask,” he answered in the same groggy voice.

“I wanna go for a drive.”

Sunghoon showed up at her front door wearing a red scarf around his neck and Y/N handed him the keys to her family’s car like she was confident he wouldn’t crash the car- and he didn’t. Y/N sat in the passenger seat while Sunghoon drove a little out of time, to the 24/7 convenience store that he and Heeseung would normally get their slushies from. Y/N didn’t get a cherry slushy like Sunghoon did. Instead, she bought a can of coke and a salmon onigiri. They enjoyed their snacks and drinks on the hood of the car and when Sunghoon was finished with his drink, he showed her how red his tongue was. They laughed and then got back in the car.

On the drive back home, Y/N was struggling to stay awake and Sunghoon was fighting the urge to hold her thigh while he drove- it was like an instinct, like it was the right thing to do. Eventually, she fell asleep on his shoulder and he drove slower so he could savour the moment.

Over the days that lead up to Halloween, they had a lot of nights where they snuck out to sit on the roof or drive out of town. They even discovered a lake not too far past the convenience store but it was covered in moss and a DANGER sign hung not too far from it. They also spent a lot of time with each other's families, going to the local theatre or taking the bus to the neighbouring town to enjoy cuisine at the only Chinese restaurant nearby. When they were finished watching Friends and How I Met Your Mother, they would watch the movies they never had a chance to watch, like The Notebook or some of Adam Sandler’s movies. In school, they would eat lunch together and sit next to each other in class when they got the chance.

When Halloween finally came, there was an obvious shift in their friendship that neither of them had acknowledged before. It was little things like getting flustered when their knuckles brushed while walking beside each other or glancing at each other in the middle of class for no reason at all. Sometimes, they found themselves holding hands and eventually leaning on each other on the couch while watching movies and whenever Y/N would accidentally fall asleep at his house, she would always have her head on his chest and he wouldn’t move her. He’d simply pull the blanket up to her chin and wrap his arm around her to sleep.

There was also a time on her roof where they looked at each other for too long and almost leaned into each other- but they would never talk about it, never bring it up.

From the corner of her eyes, Y/N saw Sunghoon greeting their families before sauntering towards her, his hands buried in his black trench coat and his bangs hiding under his grey beanie. With a beaming smile, he settled under the blanket with Y/N and wrapped his arm around her shoulders like it was second nature, pulling her into his side.

“Hey, you saved the best spot to watch the movies,” he praised.

“Did I?” She shivered and Sunghoon felt the thin material that covered her legs.

“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?”

Y/N shrugged, nuzzling into his side and holding the blanket closer to her chest. Wonyoung and her friends were sitting somewhere near the back, a carton of beer with them as they didn’t exactly plan on watching the movies. She was sure that they were staring at her and Sunghoon- they had become quite the centre of gossip at school but she chose not to comment on it. Sunoo and his friends were a few mats to the side of them and Yeji and her friends were in a far corner because they came too late to find a better spot.

“You can be really reckless sometimes,” Sunghoon continued, bringing his free hand to rub her thigh. “Do you wanna go home and change?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes hooded as she looked up at him. She wondered if he knew what he was doing, playing with the loose string that hung from her tights, pinching it and letting it snap back onto her skin. She shook her head. “Too late,” she said. “The movie’s starting.”

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum started playing on the white sheet that intricately hung over the huge statue of the fish and everyone started throwing popcorn into their mouths, eyes glued to the movie.

The thing about the town’s Halloween movie nights was that it was a competition. Movies would play all night long until six in the morning and the challenge was to stay awake through the entire night. The mayor would even have a few secret judges scattered around to judge who was awake and who was dozing asleep. Whoever could stay awake the entire night would win a fully paid trip to Busan for two days.

Y/N was the winner that night. Everyone around her had fallen asleep, including Sunghoon who had his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck as his chest rose and fell in steady rhythms. He had his arms wrapped around her waist and her hand absentmindedly moved to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. She only stayed up that night because her mind was plagued with thoughts about the boy that was sleeping on her shoulder and how her stomach would burst with butterflies whenever she was around him.

v. busan

The following weekend, Y/N’s family and Sunghoon’s family were off on their fully paid trip to Busan. Sunghoon’s grandparents stayed back to take care of the house and Y/N’s kittens while everyone else left for a relaxing weekend. They took the bus to the nearest train station and from there, they were off to Busan. The dads planned on drinking over cigars and the moms booked a day at the spa and had Yeji join them too. While they were off to do that, Sunghoon dragged Y/N to the pool on the roof and pushed her into the water.

At first, she yelled because getting into water with jeans and a shirt was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world but she started laughing too when she pulled Sunghoon in the pool with her- he had it worse because he was wearing a hoodie.

The pair trudged out of the pool and back into their room with a trail of water exposing their tracks. They took turns on using the bathroom and drying themselves off, getting ready for the family dinner their parents had planned at a fancy restaurant. Y/N came out wearing a red slip dress that had flowers embroidered into the fabric, beads embellished into the straps. Sunghoon stopped drying his hair with the towel when he saw her, blinking with parted lips while she leaned into the mirror and put on lipstick. His eyes trailed from her dress to her equally red lips, then he looked away and cleared his throat.

Coincidentally, his tie matched her dress.

“This whole family friends thing is quite nice, isn’t it?” Y/N chimed as she looked through her bag for something Sunghoon couldn’t figure out.

“What do you mean?” Sunghoon draped the towel over a chair and sat on the foot of the bed, watching Y/N as she moved about the hotel room and finally settled in front of the mirror again to fix her hair.

“As in, you know, our parents,” she said. “I like that our parents are close, too. It somehow makes everything better.”

“I think Yeji would beg to differ with you,” he chuckled. He felt bad for his sister sometimes when their families were together. She was usually alone on her phone or was dragged by their moms to accompany them in whatever errand or activity they were about to do- just like their spa day. But perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Yeah, I wish I had a sibling for her to hang around,” Y/N pursed her lips, fingernails continuing to part her hair.

“I know what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sunghoon liked it because it meant he was allowed to be around Y/N without his parents suspecting anything. They couldn’t tease him about how he was hanging out with a girl and her parents could trust him to protect her whenever they were together. Sunghoon liked it because they were sharing a hotel room and their parents weren’t concerned with it. But he was sure Y/N meant it in a whole different way but they weren’t about to clarify it to each other.

Y/N turned towards him with a soft smile, one that told him that she was ready to go out and Sunghoon stood up. Even with her heels on, he was easily towering over her and she had to fully tilt her chin up if she wanted to get a good look at him. He grinned down at her and she let out a soft breath. His breath hitched when he saw her hands moving towards his chest and her fingers cautiously wrapped around the knot of his tie.

“Still haven’t learned how to wear a tie properly?”

“I’m only seventeen.”

“You’re seventeen.”

Sunghoon didn’t feel seventeen while she tightened his tie. He must have skipped a few steps but in his head, he imagined that they were both adults, thriving in their careers and living together. He imagined that the hotel room they were in was actually a bedroom the independent home they would own in Seoul and that they were getting ready for the opening of Sunghoon’s restaurant or the celebration party to Y/N’s building that she designed. He thought this is what it would be like if they ever got married, simple and perfect.

Sungoon found himself reaching for her hand, his fingers sliding over her knuckles and eventually wrapping around her wrist. His lips parted and his breath fanned against her face as he leaned closer and Y/N’s eyes hooded, her lips parting along with his. If her phone didn’t ring, he swore he would have finally kissed her after all those days of waiting.

Dinner at the fancy restaurant went like most of their family dinners, except they were wearing fancy dresses and suits. There was a lot of conversation about taxes, the economy, the movie industry and work but there was a lot of college talk that Sunghoon and Y/N dreaded. Yeji was taking the pictures, asking everyone to pose and smile at the camera. Sunghoon’s mother even yelped in joy when she found the perfect picture of everyone together to have framed and hung on the wall. Kim Jiyoung agreed with her and said she would do the same.

Everyone went back to the hotel in cabs and Y/N was holding onto Sunghoon’s arm as he opened the door with the key card. She complained about how her heels hurt her toes and swore that she’d never wear them again but Sunghoon laughed and told her that she was lying to herself. While she took off her heels and washed her face, Sunghoon changed into his pyjamas. While she was changing, Sunghoon locked himself in the bathroom and slowly slid down the wall, his face buried in his palms. He groaned and lightly banged his head against the wall, frustrated that even while they had a hotel room to themselves, even when they were alone and didn’t need to worry about their parents walking in, he couldn’t kiss her or even muster up the words to tell her how he felt.

By the time he came out of the bathroom, Y/N was already asleep under the duvet.

The next day, everyone got up early in the morning to visit the Beomeosa Temple. They spent around two hours there, praying and walking around to enjoy the views and scenery. Y/N awed at the architecture and Sunghoon knew that in her head, she was thinking about being able to recreate such a wonder some day. There was a picture of Sunghoon and Y/N that Yeji took- it was in front of the gates that lead out of the temple. In traditional clothes, Sunghoon looked exhausted and was rolling his eyes, his hands clasped in front of him. Y/N stood beside him, looking at the camera with the brightest smile she could put on. It was a funny picture. Their moms said they would frame it up, too.

Then, they went to the aquarium and everyone took their time at every tank they stopped at. When they walked down the tunnel, Sunghoon took a picture of Y/N as she marvelled at a Stingray that swam above them. They saw divers in some of the larger tanks, neon lights decorating the jellyfish tanks. When they entered the gift shop, she turned to him and said, “imagine building something so beautiful.”

Y/N didn’t look like she had recovered from the aquarium when they were off shopping at BIFF Square. Sunghoon had to hold onto her arm because she kept getting lost in her thoughts, wandering off into alleyways that she definitely wasn’t supposed to enter. But when she smelt the street food, it was all she could focus on. They went back to the hotel with their stomachs filled with street food as dinner and shopping bags filled with jeans and graphic t-shirts. Everyone had fallen asleep by the time they entered their rooms but Sunghoon and Y/N, as most would expect, were wide away.

Y/N collapsed onto the bed, her hair strewn across her pillow and her hands clasped on her stomach. Sunghoon crawled beside her, sleeping on his side and propping his head up with his palm. He took a moment to admire her side profile, the curve of her nose and the parting of her mouth. Her eyes looked like they held stars but she was just staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“You know,” she started, wetting her lips. “I’ve been to so many countries with my parents but this two day trip was probably my favourite vacation,” she admitted, continuing to stare at the ceiling. She fiddled with her fingers, pulling at the loose skin at her thumb.

“Why?” Sunghoon asked and his voice dropped to a whisper- he wasn’t sure why. He felt his throat going dry, his heart rate speeding up.

“Because it was with you guys,” she said. She waited for a moment, opening and then closing her mouth as if questioning whether to say more. “Because you were here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

This probably would have been the perfect moment to kiss her. He could have kissed her when she tilted her head to look at him and he could have kissed her when she cracked him a nervous smile. But he didn’t, instead lowering his gaze to his pillow and adjusting so that he was laying beside her. Silence consumed them as they both stared at the ceiling. If Heeseung were here, he probably would have slapped him.

“Did you date anyone before?”

Sunghoon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she started a new conversation. But then he comprehended her question and he wasn’t sure it could lead to many endings.

“Yeah.”

“So you’ve…”

“No,” he shook his head. He lifted his arm to slide his palm under his head. “Have you?”

“No,” she shook her head, too.

“That surprises me,” Sunghoon admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Your lifestyle, I guess.”

Y/N laughed softly, her chest rising and falling. “You know I’m not like the type of rich kids you see in movies, right?”

“I mean, you never talk about your old friends, so I wouldn’t know,” he reasoned.

“True,” she pursed her lips. “But I’m really not the hooking-up type.”

“Ok,” Sunghoon breathed a grin. “I’ll believe you,” he chuckled and she did, too.

“I dated two guys before, though,” she added.

“Oh?”

“Both relationships didn’t end well.”

“Probably was for the best, anyway.”

She turned so she could examine the expression on his face but he looked serene, at peace as he stared at the ceiling.

“I didn’t peg you for the type to have a girlfriend,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re really quiet in school.”

“Remember what I said about making friends in Incheon?”

“Like making lemonade? Yeah, I remember,” she chuckled.

“Besides, I’m more myself around you.”

“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“What, you don’t believe me?” He was lying on his side again, head leaning against the headboard as he examined the changes in her expressions, how she went from grinning to pondering.

“I really don’t,” she said, hardly containing her smile.

“Why?”

“Because you always look like you’re holding yourself back from something,” she explained. “Like you’re scared to fully show yourself because of being judged.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Observation?”

“So, you’ve been observing me?” He teased, wiggling his brows.

“Shut up,” she tilted her face the other way, laughing lightly. “I bet you’re most comfortable around Heeseung.”

“And how are you so confident about that?”

“Jesus, what’s with you and these questions,” she whined and Sunghoon laughed at her.

“Just teasing you.”

“Well, stop it,” she pouted but it garnered no helpful reaction from him. “I can’t even imagine you kissing a girl, you know?”

Sunghoon cleared his throat, wondering what was going on in her head. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, you always look like you’re holding yourself back.”

“But I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” She lifted her pinky to scratch her brow. “Like, you don’t seem like the romantic type.”

“I don’t seem like the romantic type?” Sunghoon was flabbergasted. “After all the nights of driving you around and sneaking out, you’re saying I’m not romantic?”

“But it’s different when it’s with me, right? You wouldn’t do these things when you actually like a girl.”

“You don’t think I can kiss a girl I like?” He was taking this as a challenge and it might as well work in his favour.

“I really don’t.”

“Ok.”

Without thinking, without missing a heartbeat, Sunghoon leaned towards her in a swift movement and placed his lips on hers. It was a quick kiss, one that was too hard for either of them to comprehend but it left Y/N breathless as he pulled away, her eyes fluttering open to find Sunghoon looking back at her while he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. He didn’t break the gaze he held with her and a part of her refused to look away from him, scared that if she did then she would have to say something to fill the silence. His confidence levels were heightened, wondering why on earth he complicated the thought of a kiss when he could have done it so simply, so delicately.

“Proved you wrong, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Do it again.”

When he kissed her this time, he felt his heart slamming into his ribs. She pulled him closer to her by his collar, the span of his chest laying on top of her as he moved to place his hands either side of her head. They soon came to realise that such a predicament was uncomfortable so he let his hands find the curve of her waist and pulled her up until he was resting his back on the headboard and she was straddling his legs, their lips barely pulling apart. Her palms slid up and down his chest, then moved to explore the expanse of his shoulders but his hands stayed put, gripping her hips and waist like she’d run away if he didn’t.

vi. new year

Before winter break started, Y/N and Sunghoon had submitted their geography project and claimed to ace their exams while everyone else was begging for extensions. During the town’s Christmas gathering, the pair spend most of their time decorating the giant christmas tree along with everyone else, occasionally complaining about not having enough ornaments to hang up. His grandmother made her famous Christmas cake which had a mix of dark chocolate and vanilla frosting and a few rainbow sprinkles in the batter and they all had wine to celebrate the snow that was covering their roofs.

Heeseung came to visit and he finally met Y/N, clapping Sunghoon’s back with pride when he heard they had finally started dating.

When New Year’s came, they snuck away from their parents and had their New Year's kiss, pretending like they were in New York’s Times Square when the ball dropped.

“This year is gonna be so much fun,” she beamed but was met with a solemn stare from her boyfriend, his fingers numbly moving to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I hope so,” Sunghoon breathed.

“Why do you look so sad?”

“We start applying for college in a week, Y/N.”

“So?”

“You’re going to Zurich.”

This realisation only brought them closer, though some would find it concerning. This meant that when the time finally came for Y/N to board a plane or for Sunghoon to drive off to a culinary school, it would be harder to let go of their relationship, their emotions for each other and all the expectations they held for the future. Y/N would argue that perhaps they could try long distance, but Sunghoon, being the more reasonable out of the two, would tell her not to have hopes on such a feat.

A couple months later, after Valentine’s day passed with spending the day watching Hallmark movies together, Y/N got news from all the colleges she applied to. Surely enough, including a few colleges from America and Australia, she got into her dream school in Zurich, Switzerland. Sunghoon congratulated her with fried udon and their families celebrated by driving out of town to have dinner.

“You’re going to Zurich,” Sunghoon hugged her, his voice and smile faltering as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Me too, ‘Hoon,” she cried into his shoulder that night, crying about how good things never lasted and that life was always unfair and working against her.

“That can’t be true,” Sunghoon reasoned. “We met each other, after all.”

A few weeks later, Sunghoon got news that he got a full ride scholarship to a culinary school in California. His plans of staying in South Korea flew out the window and his parents were over the moon with the news. His grandparents even offered to shell out some money from their pension so he could use it for personal expenses when he flew to America.

For four years, probably more, Sunghoon was going to be living out of his beloved small town, missing falling asleep to the sound of crashing waves and the beautiful sunsets and sunrises he was used to. But it also meant that he would be living in California, the place of wonder and art and modern culture that he saw everyone swooning over on the internet. He’d be waking up to traffic, a different view to sunsets and rises and would be able to meet new people like he did in Incheon. He had a plan for his future- he would graduate, work, earn a few Michelin stars and come back to his small town to open a restaurant of his own. He imagined it would be one of South Korea’s hidden gems, underrated beauties.

“My son is gonna be the first person to fly abroad in this family!” His father cheered with his glass of wine pumped in the air.

Y/N cried even more the night they found out, both from pride and grief and Sunghoon, for the first time, let a few tears slip past his eyes as they drifted to sleep that night.

“Maybe in the future, when the time is right, we might meet again,” he mumbled.

“You’re lying to me and yourself,” she cried. “We both know life isn’t like the movies.”

vii. june

“You know,” Y/N said, her hands rubbing up and down Sunghoon’s forearms. “I always dreamed of having a June wedding when I was a kid.”

Sunghoon cracked her a grin, adjusting the straps of his bag. “Maybe it’ll happen with your future boyfriend.” He said it without meaning any malice, his eyes reflecting hope and sadness at the same time. He wished her happiness, he truly did. He wished that some day, he’d receive an invitation to her June wedding- but if fate was rooting for them, maybe he’d be her groom.

The pair of them were in the middle of Seoul’s airport, standing an equal distance between her gate that took her to Zurich’s flight and his gate that took him to New York. They demanded that they leave Korea on the same day and unfortunately, they had to miss the food fair. An hour ago, Y/N was crying about how the end had already come and Sunghoon was consoling her, feeling forced to be the stronger of the two. Now, they stood across from each other, a white bag slinging from her shoulder and a blue one hanging off his, preparing to enter a new chapter in their lives.

“I’m gonna miss the cats,” she whispered, puckering her lips and Sunghoon took it as an invitation to kiss her again for probably the millionth time in the day.

“Yeah, me too,” he nodded.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too.”

They moved simultaneously and wrapped each other in a hug just as announcements were being made for their final boarding call. With solemn smiles, their eyes growing, the pair pulled apart from each other and started walking their separate ways.

“Don’t be a stranger, ok? Keep in touch.”

“You too, Sunghoon.”

Their fingers slipped apart from each other and they didn’t look back as they walked to their gates. Airports were going to be their most and least favourite place in the world.

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jals-stuff · 1 year ago

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Some Rayne brainrot...

this is some stupid (and a bit horny??? no? yes? i don't know) stuff that went through my mind last night

MDNI PLEASE! this spawned in my head, no context

warnings: female reader, rayne is ooc and pervy, he is staring, dubcon (bit steamy at the end), bit of swearing, bit of horniness, mentions of boobies and peen...

i am very sorry, i wrote this with 0 hours of sleep. barely proofread. enjoy

Rayne Ames. The Divine Visionary, the Sword Cane.

If you watch animal documentaries, you are probably aware that cheetahs can stay in the same position for up to sixteen hours without moving at all…

Well, it so happens that Rayne’s facial expression is like a cheetah. He somehow always looks like you’ve told him a really bad pun, and he’s judging you for it (not funny, did not laugh). He probably even has this face on while he sleeps, eats, showers, and probably even while he decides to please himself.

And yet, despite looking annoyed every second of the day, despite looking like the unfriendliest guy in the whole Academy, he looks absolutely stunning. Anyone would agree that Rayne Ames is a feast on the eyes. And you, as his seatmate in class, aren’t one to deny this.

.....................................................................

It was your last class hour for today and you couldn’t wait to go back to your dorm room and rot in bed like the absolute lazybone you were. Changing out of your uniform was now an emergency, as the shirt you had picked today was somehow way too tight for you.

Being clueless with basic things such as laundry had its pros and cons. Sure, your clothes were smaller now and you could barely fit; but it made you look incredibly sexy! …or so you kept telling yourself. Maybe you were just trying to cope with the fact that you were incredibly bad at basic human tasks.

You made your way to the classroom and got your notebook out.

Today’s subject was pure theory, and you would’ve fallen asleep if you didn’t have the most scrumptious distraction sitting right next to you. You spent the hour doodling, taking notes whenever you paid enough attention to do so, and mostly throwing quick glances at your seatmate, Rayne, who was way too focused on the soporific theoretical experiments your elderly professor was passionately explaining, to pay attention to you.

When the old man turned around to write something on the blackboard, Rayne finally turned a fraction of his attention towards you. Of course, this happened during the minuscule amount of time you weren’t looking at him, and he took notice of a few things.

First of all, your notes were an absolute mess. Instead of trying to keep them consistent, you had picked a few words the teacher said, and chose to throw them into an adventure with other words, picked at different moments during class, resulting in an abomination that wouldn’t make sense, even to you. But you wouldn’t know, of course, since you never read your notes anyway.

He would give you bonus points for the adorable little bunnies you had been doodling for the majority of your time in class, though.

Secondly, you seemed like you were about to sleep, but given the way you were taking notes, everything sort of made sense. Not your notes though, only the fact that you weren’t invested enough to stay awake.

Third of all, your shirt. He wished his eyes hadn’t lingered for such a long time on it. Why was it so tight? “Is she so dumb she can’t even do laundry?”, he wondered to distract himself from the fact that the button that kept your shirt closed around the chest area had the strength of a thousand lions.

His eyes moved back to your face, and at this very moment, you chose to look at him. Your eyes met, and his expression was, as always, unreadable. Was he bored? Upset? Annoyed? At this point you were pretty sure he didn’t know any better. But it seemed a bit different this time, you could’ve sworn you saw his lower lid twitching slightly.

You decided to turn your attention back to the teacher— or at least pretend to, for a while, and it lasted for a whopping fifty seconds. Efforts had been made! You deemed yourself deserving of a little treat, and an attempt was made to look at Rayne once again.

His eyes were still on you. Now it really felt like he was upset. You were used to his icy glare but it was getting a little uncomfortable, and so, as one does, you had a great shitty idea. You decided that stretching your back could maybe help you release some of this discomfort, and your button, may it rest in peace, gave up on its sole task of keeping your shirt closed.

You couldn’t tell where it went at all. In fact, you didn’t even notice, but you did feel a little more comfortable now that your chest area was no longer being compressed, except it was in a literal meaning now, and not just figuratively speaking. You could still feel Rayne’s eyes on you, and decided that you wouldn’t look at him for the rest of this oh so boring class.

What you hadn’t noticed was that his eyes were no longer on your face, but rather on the missing button’s previous spot. “Is she so dumb she can’t take care of her clothing?”, he wondered to distract himself from the fact that he could now clearly see your bra.

He could see that one mesmerising spot where your breasts were pushing in a wondrous effort to get out of their insufferable lace prison. In fact, pretty much anyone could’ve seen it if they had turned around, but it seemed this professor was either hypnotic or soporific because everyone was staring in his direction.

You were then blissfully unaware of the fact that Rayne was now leading an internal battle. He had to get his eyes off of your cleavage, for your breasts were not the only things screaming for freedom anymore. Ah, perhaps Rayne was also bad at laundry, because his pants felt increasingly tight the longer he stared at you.

Divine Visionary or not, he was but a man, and what power does a man hold when presented with sweet bosoms? None. That’s right. He tried to think about anything else. Rabbits? His little brother, Finn? The concerning relationship Lance had with his little sister? The way alcoholism thrived amongst the ranks of the State police? No matter what went through his head, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

He had to do something about it, and you were probably not escaping this one.

.....................................................................

As soon as the bell rang, he closed his coat as much as he could, and grabbed your arm before you could leave, and this time you could tell he was pretty upset. Why? How could you know? You didn’t know anything. Had your head not been attached to your shoulders, you would’ve probably lost it already.

Instead of giving you any sort of explanation, he immediately dragged you with him. Your life felt like a movie that was playing in front of your eyes. My time has come, you thought, but… not quite.

You found yourself in Rayne’s dorm room, locked in with him. His roommate wasn’t there, and it was clear this crime would leave no witnesses.

It took him half a second to remove his coat and— oh. You were suddenly in Egypt.

Everything was there: the stone hard pyramid, the Sphinx (that seemed ready to pounce on you), and the heat. Oh boy, the heat. As a very refined lady (yes you are), you brought your hand to your chest in indignation, and oh, how distraught you felt when you realised that your beloved chest button was nowhere to be seen. It was all starting to make sense.

Without a word, he pushed you against the wall and his lips met yours in a rough, steamy kiss. Your whole body felt like it was on fire; his toned chest was pressing against yours and breaking your buttons further, his clothed erection was slightly rubbing against your clit through your panties and his hands roamed your body hungrily while his tongue left no corner of your mouth unexplored.

It was all a lot to take in but it felt so intoxicating, the way his large hands held onto your hips to keep you from squirming too much underneath his passionate touch, and how his teeth were grazing against your lips while a mixture of both your salivas dripped from the corner of your mouth.

His body was grinding against yours like waves on the beach, and both your breathings were becoming increasingly noisy. Only after long, delicious minutes of this make-out session did he break the kiss, panting for air, as he looked into your eyes with a lustful gaze you were now used to seeing.

It wasn't your first time pushing his buttons like this, and it certainly wasn't your last.

“You did it on purpose, admit it.”

Whaaat, you? Pfffft, never! But… let’s just say you’re not usually that bad at doing your laundry.

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smol reminder that i am very bored and i also take requests for mashle, hsr, genshin, jjk, elsword, tower of fantasy...

xoxo

#rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #mashle x reader #mashle #rayne x reader #magic and muscles #anime #anime character #mashle smut #rayne ames smut #rayne smut

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eunandonly · 6 months ago

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— • POINT OF CONTENTION : YOU.

ᝰ.ᐟ : why are you on a coffee date with jay? i thought you guys were the biggest rivals, no?

pairing! politicalsciencemajor!jay x politicalsciencemajor!reader | wc. 0.7k | warnings: attempted humour (failed), prob kinda cringe, inaccurate university stuff (im so sorry i’ve never been in uni) EN-

🖇️ : jay's version!! political science suits him so well, don't you think? also this became a debate fic for some reason… but i hope you guys enjoy ~ jake version is next ^^

political science is such a jay subject

someone says political science i think of jay

you first met jay at a debate club at your university

when you first saw him you thought "hmm, typical political science major with not-so-typical sharp jawline"

tbh you just saw him as competition he better get tf out of your way you're at university to get the best grades and graduate on top like you did for middle school and high school

you hated how jay was always at top

you admired him but hated him at the same time can he please fumble for once?

jay also sees competition when he sees you except the competition is a hot twenty year old girl with silver glasses and an immaculate fashion taste

but competition nonetheless

so one day you guys are having a debate about some political shit

you're even more competitive than usual

political science is YOUR major so YOU have to win

but guess what

your opponent is no another than jay himself

both of you are absolutely determined to win the debate

like bitch there's fire in your eyes you have to beat this man

he’s on the positive side and you’re on the negative so you think you’re completely cooked

but guess what gang

you won.

you just kind of stand there wondering wtf just happened until reality comes crashing down

you just beat jay, and he's the best political science student the school has.

you spent like 922929485 minutes making jay’s life hell for his loss before leaving the room in a very good mood.

and let me tell you

jay is down bad.

he just saw you give the most scrumptious, delicious, yummy argument to counter his equally scrumptious, delicious, yummy argument

nobody has ever beaten him like that before.

EVER.

but you did.

and that's very hot of you.

tbh the debate was a very close call

jay's arguments were sharper than his jawline and that's saying something (moment of appreciation for his 90 degrees jawline)

you're part impressed, part annoyed and part determined.

you NEED to beat him in the next debate as well

you're practically drooling when you think about beating him in the next coming debate as well

perhaps you're also drooling over jay but you'd never admit that

you just gaslight yourself into thinking that it's just begrudged admiration that's making you feel this way

you spend the next week researching the new topic for the debate you're going to have with jay to ensure that you'll be able to counter every single argument he throws at you

you don't know whether you're on the positive side of negative yet BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER YOU'LL JUST RESEARCH IT ALL

you like to study in that one little spot at the library but turns out jay also conveniently really likes that spot

you wake up ten minutes early everyday to get there before him

you're basically running on caffeine and caffeine only the whole week trying to juggle the preparations for the debate and lectures

somebody keeps leaving you a cup black coffee, your favourite, on your morning lecture tables

you don't know what's going on and why someone's giving you free beverages buttt free coffee, right?

idk if you're just oblivious or stupid or denying the truth

maybe all three because how tf are you not connecting the dots?

the debate.

jay.

the coffee.

when the next debate finally comes, you sit down across jay with your COLOUR ORGANISED flashcards and notes

you don't even have to look at them

jay's also been preparing as well, so it's a very tough debate

both of you shooting one argument after another BUT GUESS WHO WON

you. ACADEMIC QUEEN FRFR

you celebrate by another session of rubbing your victory into jay's too-hot-for-his-own-good face but you're aware that the debate was practically a draw

you both did so good it's actually crazy

the next day, you come to another cup of black coffee sitting at your lecture table except it has a little note saying

"nice debate yesterday. you wanna go out together tonight? - jay"

of course you say yes I MEAN LOOK AT THIS MAN HOLY SHIT

✉️: @icyy-hoon send me an ask or comment under this post to be added to my taglist <3

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thetrialsandtribulationsofeb · 1 month ago

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no, but it’s the way eddie saved buck by showing him how important his life is, and how he is so much more than he thinks

and the way buck saved eddie by showing him that he’s not broken and irredeemable, that he doesn’t destroy everything he touches, that he deserves understanding and forgiveness, that he has the light inside of him, that he deserves to be free and happy despite all his mistakes and failures

buck always loved eddie just for who he is - not only for how cool and “macho” he is, but for his silly, carefree side too

eddie always loved buck for his kind and brave heart, for his wisdom and stability (he’s the only one who sees and appreciates how reliable buck is, how he’s willing to stay and make broken things work, how he never gives up)

buck doesn’t see eddie only as this serious, cool guy with a dark past and a silver star - he sees his soft and pure side, the one that wants to be carefree. he lets eddie be himself, let go, and have fun (“i can know weird stuff too” you can tell that being around buck rubbed off on him so much “i know you watch telenovelas with christopher”)

eddie doesn’t see buck only as a funny and reckless himbo - he sees his reliable, selfless, mature, helping, supportive side (that’s why, when eddie is angry at buck, he accuses him of being selfish - and it hurts so much). he takes buck, his words, and his actions seriously

that’s why they’re perfect for each other - they’re each other’s missing pieces

and that’s why eddie’s love for buck is one of the major things that finally set eddie free from all his “catholic guilt”

because buck taught him how to love himself by loving him

thanks to buck’s love, eddie finally realized that he deserves forgiveness, and he deserves joy

and thanks to eddie’s love, buck finally realized how much he matters - how important he is as a person outside of saving people

eddie spent his whole life living a life that doesn’t fit him, but buck saw him and showed him, through his own freedom, that eddie can be free too. be himself. start living the life he actually wants, not the one that was forced onto him by his parents

buck spent his whole life feeling unseen, unappreciated, and abandoned, searching for a place in the world he could call home (he already found one in the 118, but it turned out to be trickier with romantic relationships). and eddie saw him and built a home for him, showed him that he never wants to leave, that buck is someone worth staying for (“there’s nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you” “but i hope you know, you do matter to me” “it’s not nothing” “i don’t like it anymore than you do”)

when ryan described his character in an interview, he said eddie is a team player kind of guy - and that’s exactly what he offered buck in the very beginning (“you can have my back any day”) as an olive branch, and he kept proving it throughout the show

he sees right through buck’s abandonment issues and even gets annoyed when they kick in, because he’s like, “damn, buck, when will you understand that we’re not going anywhere? that we’re a team? that i have your back? i trust you, i need you - in my life, on the field, with chris, as a best friend who gets me like no one else does” (“you’re stuck with us”)

eddie’s pov of himself: i’m broken and i can’t fix it

buck’s pov of eddie: i love all of him, with all his flaws and imperfections - he’s literally perfect in my eyes

buck’s pov of himself: i’m not good enough for people to want to stay with me

eddie’s pov of buck: this guy feels like coming home

the guy who likes to fix things fixed the guy who felt broken

a nester built a nest for someone who never had a home and was abandoned by everyone he loved

buck is eddie’s joy, eddie is buck’s home

eddie joined the 118 and met buck after he left his abusive home - his start of the journey to finding joy

buck met eddie after abby left - his start of the journey to finding home

everything happened the way it was meant to

i know that initially buck liked eddie because he’s this cool action figure brought to life, and eddie liked buck because he’s kind, cheerful, and reliable - but little did they know how interconnected they were

“you wanted us to bond. we might end up real close”

they saved each other - and that’s exactly why they’re endgame

nothing can compare to this level of love

- i'll take care of you

- it's rotten work

- not to me. not if it's you

so, every day is the best day ever. is that really love? right? shouldn't it be when you're at your worst, they're at their worst, you have every reason to give up, and you still decide you want to try again

isn't that what we all want in a partner? knowing that they have your back?

a few choice words can sometimes be the life raft that gets you home. to be seen. to be found. isn’t that what we’re all searching for?

#buddie #they can literally dedicate the lyrics of peace by taylor swift to each other #when some people think we ship buddie because they’re hot but it’s stuff like this that makes me crazy #also literally everyone on this show are hot what are you talking about #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 abc #911 show #buckley diaz family #they’re soulmates your honor #911 meta

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nicolesainz · 9 months ago

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“Written mine on my upper thigh” LN4

Lando Norris x f!reader

Author’s note: My comeback story HAD to be about the winner of the Dutch Grand Prix (by 22 seconds) and @freedaxf1 ‘s husband!! I present to you, possessive Lando Norris

Summary: Lando and you have been having an on and off relationship since your teenage years. While he lives his life in England, you’re back home trying to move on but everything seems impossible. What happens when Lando finally tracks the continues cycle?

Warnings: inaccuracies about Lando’s job and birthday, sexual themes, minors dni, 18+, nicknames, oral sex!

His eyes had been glued to my body for the better part of the night. I must admit mine were doing the exact same, given with how good he was looking. In all the years we have known each other this was one of the times where I have caught myself thinking “I will never share him with anyone. He is mine.”

I had come to London for a play with my friend group and we all decide to collectively separate our schedules and explore the city. In my case, I had been desperate enough to let someone else explore me. I knew that if I spent another month without his touch, I would need to buy a third vibrator.

As I was walking into the fourth bookstore of the day, trying to find as many new romance novels as possible, thankful I decided to pack very lightly, and my luggage had some extra space. It was at the very moment when my fingers laid on Shakespeare’s “Othello” when a raspy British voice tingled my entire body, “No surprise finding you looking at England’s most profound litterateur work.”

I turned around to be met with the most crystal blue eyes I had ever encountered in my life. They also happened to be the eyes of the man that drove me insane for most of my teenage years and fell in love with. I also was not surprised when I caught him licking his lips as he was staring into mine. Usually what that meant in both our minds was “Yours or mine?”

“I am starting to believe you have put a tracker on me given I can’t hide from you.”

“You will never find it sweetheart. I am better at hiding than you will ever be.”

“Now that you mentioned it, a certain pair of panties has me feeling uneasy every time I wear them on dates, maybe that’s your hiding spot.”

“Probably shouldn’t have worn them whilst you were with me. Or even when you weren’t with me, since it’s a sign that I have marked them as mine.”

“A tracker was unnecessary. The universe has sided with you, knowing all my dates were major failures.”

“I won’t lie to you, so I can’t say I am sorry for you baby. After all, I hardly doubt you reached a point with those poor fellas where you screamed their name as loud as you did mine.”

This probably would be an ideal time for him but very unfortunate time for me to admit that I once misnamed one of my dates and used his name instead. And an even more annoying fact that he was right about was that I had never reached a point with any of those guys to moan their names, or even let them touch me.

The past 3 months I hadn’t allowed myself to get physical with anyone else but him. Everyone was slowly starting to wonder why my visits to London were becoming more and more regular. As the months were going by quite fast, the use of my vibrator was becoming an even more usual habit. The moment I die I know there’s a place for me in hell, with the amount of times I have surrendered myself to the captivating voice of this Englishman, making the most unholy thoughts about his tongue and fingers touching the most inappropriate parts of my body, as I slide in my vibrator, imagining his insanely powerful body thumping against mine, groaning and moaning his name louder than a holy prayer.

“What brings you around my place this time? Missed my cock so much couldn’t get enough of it?”

“Friend group getaway if you so badly want to know. And trust me if I wanted to fuck you so much with one single call, I could have made you travel back home and wreck me, like the good obedient boy you are.”

“I think you are mistaking me for you darling. I don’t remember being the one who came knocking on one’s door begging for a night of pleasure. Or the one who screamed the other’s name so loud they lost their voice the next day and wanted to be fucked in front of a mirror so they could see how well I fit inside of them.”

I absolutely hate it how he knows exactly which buttons to push in order to play with my brain. Well, you’re the one who lets him so, it’s more your fault, not his. Although I absolutely love it when he pushes those buttons during sex.

I will never admit to his face that he is the best sex I have ever had. He doesn’t need to know that his ego doesn’t need more boost. Ever since I last saw him, he has changed massively. His hair has turned into a darker shade, the fuzziness in his hair has been replaced by a regular curly cut and only a few strands can be seen from the excess of his beanie. He probably has grown a few inches as well, hopefully his cock has as well.

“Say, how did you find me? If you are stalking me, I should get restraining orders now.”

“Happy coincidence. I was looking for new law books about school. And also, a gift for your birthday.”

My heart stopped when he said he was looking a gift for my birthday. I sent him a month ago for his own birthday a scrap book from my last visit in London with pictures we took of each other of the different sights we visited, maybe a few sneaky ones in bed as well.

“You know you don’t have to buy me anything. A text or a call is more than enough.”

“I know, my love, but nonetheless I had to get you something. Thought it was better than anything else.”

“Surely not better than being with you or hearing your voice.”

After I managed to escape from his eyesight, I went back to my room to get changed for the night out me and the guys were about to have. We mutually agreed not to pull an all-nighter so we would be in time tomorrow for the play. With the chilly weather I was met today, I decided that along with my tight dark blue dress, a pair of see-through leggings would be more than ideal. I was on a call with the girls and as I was applying my red lipstick, a message popped up on my screen.

“Try not to catch a cold tonight babe.”

Such small messages declaring his love for me were everything I was asking for in a man and I am thankful they are parts of him. We weren’t in a proper relationship but to the people that didn’t know me very well like my friends, I was always saying “Oh I have a boyfriend, but he lives in the UK”, because he indeed was the closest things I had to one.

When I finally found the location of the club, I managed to easily spot my friends, and I was greeted with many drinks to pick from. Alcohol heaven for sure. I decided to refrain from drinking over 2 glasses so I could enjoy their company more sober than drunk and in case I needed to carry anyone back to their hotels.

After 2 hours all the girls found themselves dancing on the main floor to a remix of Jason Derulo and Lady Gaga, the dirtier the better. All the lights were flashing on our bodies and every man around us was raising their glasses to the way we were dancing. One certain man though wasn’t very pleased with the way I was dancing.

My vision was slightly blurry, but I could tell from the facial expression and the crossed arms that his blood was boiling and the more I was shaking my ass, the more he was ready to throw hands to the other men that were drooling over me and then grab me from the waist and drag me out of the club. I slowly stopped and was about to go sit down with the boys of my friend group, when I felt a sudden arm forcing me away from the couch.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Or were you not thinking at all?” his voice has risen an octave higher than the music and had shaken me to my core. He has never yelled at me.

“I was just dancing. There’s no need to yell at me.”

“Almost 50 men were one step away from getting on the dance floor and laying their hands on you. Do you call that ‘just dancing’?”

“I wasn’t dancing alone, and I wasn’t the only one dancing in that manner.”

“Do you think I care what the other girls do?”

“I still don’t get where all this possessiveness comes from? I get that we have a good time together, I love you and you love me, but we aren’t in a relationship. You don’t own me. I can do whatever I want.”

“You do whatever you want and yet you let me play with you whenever you’re near me. You never stop me. You haven’t slept with other men since we last met and you always talk about how much you are missing me. I only talk about you to my friends, and I refuse to go on dates knowing you’re in another country saving yourself. So, forgive me if I care about you even though I am not your boyfriend.”

As much as it pains me sometimes to admit, I would give anything for him to be my boyfriend. He is the only man I trust with my heart and body. I hadn’t fallen in love with another man ever since we first kissed back when I turned 18. So yes, I can complain as much as I want.

“Feeling better now? I have stopped dancing, and I will go home to wear my nun costume so no man in sight sees any possible skin from my body. Will this please you? Or should I cover my face as well?”

“What would please me is if I had you every day close to my body, wrapped inside my arms, kissing your every inch day and night, claim you as mine forever but god forbid, we are ever in the same place for at least 2 weeks.”

I do not hold back, and I grab his face into my palms and kiss him fiercely. Every time we kiss, I get more and more intoxicated. I am being drugged by the best possible addictive poison. My heart is filled to the very top and I do not desire anything else more in this world that having him kissing me until my breath is cut short.

His tongue dances with mine and the feeling of vodka mixed with gin burns my throat in a pleasing way. I can feel my lipstick being smudged all over his face and as my hands are wrapped around his neck, my leg finds its way around his waist to pull him closer to my body. Everything betrays his power on me as I can feel him growing against me and moaning softly.

“Not here. I need you all for myself. Where are you staying?”

In just a few minutes I find myself slammed against the shower wall, with the water covering both our bodies, extending the heat. His lips found their way on my neck and his fingers are playing with my hardened nipples. My mouth can’t possibly contain the ungodly moans that he is producing and fuck him nothing can ever top this.

“Say once more than you aren’t mine and I will stop being gentle with you.”

“I am so yours. No other man kisses me the way you do. No other man touches me the way you do.”

“No sweetheart, no other man is allowed to touch you. Get it?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Words barely are being phrased properly as I scream in pleasure when he softly bites my nipple after having bitted my collarbone. I have come to terms with the fact that I love it when he is biting me. It’s his way of showing that he loves me. I literally have no control of my body the moment he lays his kisses on me. Its absolutely beautiful.

“I love no one else but you. Oh, how I adore you.” I manage to mumble through the groans.

“What an angel you are. From the moment I met you I knew I was done. Oh, you are never leaving my grasp.”

“Then don’t make me leave. I can be yours, I am yours.”

He then proceeds to fall on his knees, so he can be met with my womanhood as he raised my leg over his shoulder for better view.

“Facetiming you will never compare to the real deal. Oh, my beauty.” And my hands instantly grab against his hair and pull then tightly as his tongue is toying with my wet core. Every inch of my body is trembling and I can’t physically stop moaning his name that by now even the neighbours are well aware of his existence.

“Be mine. Be mine forever. I will give you anything, all I want in return is you.”

“Don’t stop. Oh, I missed you. You take care of me better than anyone else.”

“I can’t go another 3 months without seeing you. Stay with me.”

“I love you but oh my, you know I can’t.”

“Be my girlfriend. Please let me be yours. Let me claim you as mine. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life.”

I look down on him as his lips detach from myself and the cold breeze of the shower hits me with an open mouth from the shock he just caused. I never in my life thought he would ask me to be his girlfriend. It made my heart shutter when I couldn’t have him years ago and now that I am given the chance, everything restored. All I could possibly ask for.

“You probably found the best timing in the world to ask me such question. At my most vulnerable.”

“Want me to ask you after I am finished eating you up darling?”

“I mean, no, my answer would be the very same.”

“Which is? Care to share with an impatient man?”

“A million times yes. Do you think I have spent all this money in visiting you for you to ask me that question and then say no? I would have been insane.”

“You kind of are insane.”

“Excuse me?”

“You go insane every time we kiss and then you drive me insane so we are even.”

“Insane boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Surely the perfect match.”

#lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader

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marilynmonroefanfics · 1 year ago

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Scary Love

Y/N, much to the disdain of his father, had convinced his mother to let him spend some days with his grandmother, Demeter.

Zagreus and Macaria were also not happy about it, however as they player major roles in the underworld, they could not accompany him. They did give him some advice.

“Just take this enchanted dagger with you.” Zagreus spoke, hiding the weapon in his brother’s tunic.

“If someone tries to pressure you, just do as we practiced” said Macaria.

“GUYS PLEASE! THIS IS TOO MUCH!”

The youngest son of Hades was very well received by his grandmother, who was very happy to see him. The other gods were also enthusiastic, specially his new best friends, Athena and Artemis.

Y/N spend the first few days catching up with everyone, Apollo sang him songs, Hermes brought him gifts from his travels, he also did flower crowns with Dionysus, so on and so forth.

With Athena and Artemis, Y/N travelled the known world, playing chess with Athena was always fun and he bonded with Artemis over their love of animals.

There was only one god Y/N could not befriend, that being Aphrodite, whispers ran throughout Olympus that the Goddess of Beauty had been dethroned. Aphrodite didn’t help herself by leading a life of debauchery, not at all leading a life of virtue and, in an irony of destiny, not respecting the sacred bounds of love she herself represented.

One early morning, the young prince witnessed the arrival of Ares, God of War, who was followed by two unknown men, all in bloody armour.

The God of War only gave a small nod of acknowledgment, speaking swiftly.

“Deimos, Phobos…” Ares spoke, his voice full of authority. “…meet Y/N, God of Seasons, Prince of the Underworld, youngest child of Hades and Persephone.”

Deimos and Phobos greeted the young prince, however, the latter could only notice their unusual auras and empty eyes.

In the next days Y/N could feel himself being observed, as if two pairs of eyes were watching him from the shadows. Flowers and little cards could also be find on his bed, with sort messages such as “I love your eyes” or “You have my heart”

The next few encounters with Deimos and Phobos were always the same, with few words exchanged and the two gods in their bloody armours.

One particular day, Y/N was pitiful of the two brothers, he had offered to help clean their armours, they seemed very dirty and uncomfortable.

To his surprise, the two brothers accepted, taking an opportunity to ask the young prince for help cleaning themselves, in particular their cheeses and arms, which they would flex at any opportunity, making Y/N giggle.

From then on, the try spent even more time together, Ares became quite annoyed at this, as his sons weren’t fulfilling their duties, which mainly meant fighting alongside their father.

It was clear to everyone the two brothers were in love with the young prince, but no one dared to say so. As the two circled Y/N like to guard dogs. Or in Persephone’s own words “sons of Cerberus”

Persephone knew of her son’s conflicted feelings, and simply advised “follow your heart…but do remember this has great consequences.”

“What do you mean mother?”

“Silly boy, you have the sons of the God of War at your mercy, the best warriors in the world, who give their father great victories…you can sway them as you please, they are yours to command, love is a powerful force.”

“What…what if I can’t choose between them?”

His mother laughed “I suppose you get two handsome hunks instead of one!”

#x male reader #male reader #headcanons x male reader #headcanons #greek god x male reader #greek gods #gods #deimos #deimos x male reader #phobos #phobos x male reader

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simpjaes · 1 year ago

Note

speaking of hoon edging himself for days when you're not available, can you write a quick prompt about how he'd fill up and overflow all your holes when you get back. fuck, he'd be the type to go for ages even after you're all fucked out and overstimulated

reminder that I don't do requests but since you asked for a prompt, i'll write a lil somethin' somethin'.

christmas setting woohoo!

warnings: major edging, a billion orgasms, reader is smaller than him and can be lifted and held up.

wc: 1.4k

Sunghoon, your busy, busy boyfriend. Sunghoon, you're amazingly sweet, loving, and careful boyfriend. Sunghoon, your very, very horny boyfriend.

Honestly, he hates himself every time he does it. Sometimes it's intentional, but this time it wasn't entirely his fault.

It's the first time since you started dating him that you had to go home for a week during the holidays. Which is fine, you've only been dating him since the beginning of the year and it was somewhat expected that you wouldn't be spending christmas with him and him alone. After all, you expected him to go home too.

And he did, which arguably makes his situation worse.

Sunghoon, your needy, pathetic, and annoyed boyfriend.

What's worse is that edging is one thing, but this is just blatant torture. He thought it would be fun to be long-distance for a week. He wanted phone sex, he wanted to see you fuck yourself on camera for him, he wanted you to show him how much you missed him. And that's ultimately where he fucked up.

Because you can barely even respond to his text messages let alone call him for phone sex. Due to sharing a room with your cousin, due to constantly helping your family out with holiday preparations, due to-- doing stuff that doesn't involve helping him out.

You're entirely being distracted from him right now. Family, holiday tradition, and merry joy or whatever.

And you know, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that his libido is far too high to have a girlfriend not on him every night. And by every night, it's really every night.

He's supposed to be distracted, though, with being home too and all. But he's entirely tuned into the fact that he's been so fucking hard since the day after you left. It's almost painful now, especially because something inside of him drives him to enjoy this torture. To try and hold off for the day you both eventually land back in the same city, and he can fuck all of this frustration out of himself and into you.

Plus, um, it's kind of hard to jerk off in his family home surrounded by said family. If anything, he should not be as horny as he is. He should be entirely turned off, and entirely tuned in to wrapping gifts and pretending santa is real.

Which, again, isn't working because with each day that passes, all he can think about is you and how you looked the last night you were together, all pretty with your lashes fluttering up at him. Pretty face, pretty mouth, pretty pussy.

Man, he's gonna fucking explode before this week is up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Safe to say, Sunghoon did not explode.

But upon looking at him when he storms into your dorm room? He seems pretty fucking close to it. He looks sleepy, spent, and even exhausted.

You were half ready to offer your bed up for a nice little afternoon nap before he came up to you and immediately had his hand down your loose pajama shorts.

"Hoon?" You ask with a light chuckle.

"You couldn't even call me." He very nearly whined, which is kiiind of new to you.

Then it clicks. Right. Your boyfriend and his libido. His sex drive.

Oh my god, he must have been suffering.

"I'm so hard right now," He chokes out, rubbing himself against your thigh. "I've been so hard all week, babe, please."

And he doesn't really need to ask, but it's kind of cute that he does.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" You ask playfully, feeling his frantic fingers work you up so that you're ready to take whatever nightmare amount of cum he needs to give to you.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" He counters, fingers stopping for a moment before he shifts entirely, pulling his hand out of your pants and immediately shoving you back and against the small dorm kitchen counter.

You chuckle, because of course you do. You'll never get used to being needed or wanted so badly by someone, and it fills you with so much joy that he's really this desperate.

"I should maybe leave more often," You smile at him when he's slipping your pants off of you, hiking one of your legs up and against his waist before fumbling with his own pants. "Never seen you this horny--"

He shuts you up fast, your voice only working him up more and more with your stupid, stupid playful words. You're loving this, you must loooove to see him fucking suffer over you.

And then, the only sound that you can hear is the ringing in your ears as he plunges himself into you. Cock already hard and wet, pulsing with the need to fuck something. You, specifically.

It's like neither of you could speak if you wanted to, with his consistent groans and relieved sighs of feeling your pussy squeeze him like he missed so much.

"Missed you, fuck-" He manages to choke out, already nearing the point of orgasm before it slams into him without warning.

It's the first time he's ever come so fast, barely a full ten strokes into you before it happened, but you love it all the same. It felt somehow better than usual. After all, he could go for an hour or more when his sexual appetite is fed nearly every night by you.

Arguably, he appears to be able to go an hour or more now too, as your face falls into that of shock that his orgasm doesn't render him flaccid or spent.

He paused through his first orgasm, feeling it run through his body in a numbing way, only to immediately fuck up and into you harder once it's subsided. He knows he has more to give, so, so much more. A weeks worth of fucking you will be had now.

And man, you feel every inch of him, deeper and deeper until somehow he feels bigger than usual. Somehow he's splitting you open better than he ever has, and he's filling you up with orgasms that have never once lasted as long as the ones he's shaking through now.

A second orgasm comes in the form of him wrapping your other leg around his waist too, where he's essentially holding you up and against the counter absolutely railing your pussy until his legs nearly buckle.

And well, they do buckle. He's careful though, maintaining his balance before tapping your legs without a word and immediately pushing you to the floor. You stared in awe at how his cock is still working through the two orgasms, despite his brain clearly having gone blank the moment he said he missed you.

There, you give him a third orgasm with your throat. It took a little longer, and it only happened when he let it. Holding your head in place with both hands, fucking his hips into you just to feel your throat constrict and strangle his pathetic and still needy cock. You hear his brain start working again through this, and the only words he can mutter is, "it's like you're doing this on purpose, god, look at how you take it."

You take all of it and you taste all of it, again and again as he stumbled in front of you, angling his hips into your mouth to push it deeper, just to come to the point that you're choking. You wish you could have seen the way he chewed against his bottom lip and threw his head back as it happened.

You're so good to him though, letting him take it out on you like this. So, so good to him.

And it didn't stop. For hours he fucked himself into every part of you that you'd allow, offering you several orgasms in turn from sheer force and need alone. He didn't really even try, because for the first time with you, he was solely desperate to focus on himself. To empty his body of this buildup, and to fill you up with how frustrated he's managed to become.

By the next morning, you weren't the only one rendered unable to walk. His own legs felt weak, his head hurt, his eyes were strained at the morning light. But when he looked at you, smiling as if you really would leave more often just to have him lose his goddamn mind like that again, he immediately scolds.

"Why are you smiling like you're gonna do this shit to me again?"

And you'd just smile wider.

"Because I definitely will."

He rolls his strained eyes at you, thinking hard about the fact that as much as he hates not fucking you, he might kind of love the way you make it up to him.

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #hardthots #anon #ask

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celestie0 · 1 year ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.6 devil's advocate

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 6/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.7k

a/n. so sorry for the wait! i'm really excited for this chapter, it's one that i've been waiting for since before i even started the series, and it was a lot of fun to write. i hope you enjoooy <3 if there are typos, your mind is just playing tricks on you

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Life after realizing you had feelings for Gojo Satoru seemed to pass by in slow-motion, as you spent a significant portion of the day consumed by thoughts of him. Although it was against your better judgment, it was nice to have your mind occupied by something that wasn’t career stress, school stress, or financial stress. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt this way about someone, and it was healthy to indulge in some escapism, right?

You find yourself scrolling through his Instagram page for the second third time today, captivated by the attractive photos of him in his soccer uniform, kicking at the ball with a determined look on his face. Your gaze fixates on the blue follow-back button staring back at you on his page, remembering that you still haven’t followed him back. Pulling your phone away from your line of sight, you glance up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and swiftly tap the blue button. You clutch your phone to your chest right after, surprised by the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s only ten seconds before you’re back to perusing his photos.

You sigh dreamily from where you were laid back on your bed. Mina looks up at you from her desk with an irritated expression on her face.

“What’s with the dreamy sighing every thirty seconds? I’m trying to study here,” she says to you.

You throw her a look. “Oh please, I’ve had to deal with your dreamy sighs every single time you were on the phone with Todo for the past two weeks. You can handle a few of mine.”

Mina’s eyes widen at your words and she turns in her chair to look at you intently. “Wait…who are you dreamily sighing for?”

You blink in response. “Oh, uh. No one? I mean, what’s that one actor’s name–the one in that show we were watching?” You tap your finger to your lip, pretending to be in deep thought, but Mina wasn’t buying any of it since she promptly stood up from her chair and snatched your phone out of your hand. You yelp and sit up on your bed to try and grab it back from her but she has that I was the eldest sibling in my household grip on your phone.

“Is this…Gojo Satoru’s Instagram page?” she asks, extending your phone out in front of her and tilting her head to the side at the screen, as though she was trying to wrap her head around it.

“Stop! You’ll accidentally tap on something,” you’re squealing at her, arms flailing out in an attempt to grab at your phone. She eventually hands it back to you and you’re sighing with relief before flopping back down onto your bed, fingers eagerly swiping up on the screen to make sure she didn’t accidentally like one of his posts from four months ago.

“Are you crushing on Gojo Satoru?” Mina asks with her hands on her hips.

You meet her gaze with a hint of guilt. You haven’t kept Mina up-to-speed on a lot of the things that have happened within the past three weeks, including the night last week when Gojo stayed with you out on the road after you got your flat tire and then kissed you. It’s been about five days since then, and you feel that if you fessed up now, she’d be mad that you didn’t tell her right away.

“I’m…” you start as you look at her and she raises an eyebrow at you that makes you sheepishly sit up on your bed, pretty much kneeling in front of her. “Maybe. A little bit? I don’t know.”

She looks at you with surprise before walking backwards and sitting onto her bed, facing you. She presses her lips together, deep in thought, and there’s an almost concerned expression on her face. “When did this develop?”

You end up explaining pretty much everything that has happened between you and Gojo as of recently, her face staying neutral through even the most surprising details, and by the time you’re done explaining and waiting for her to give a response, you realize you’re tensing your shoulders and holding your breath.

She sighs, sulking a little and her bed frame creaks underneath the mattress. “I can’t believe you kissed Gojo Satoru and you didn’t tell me about it, like, practically the second after it happened. Also, you never told me that’s why you called me that night! It makes sense now why your car has been in ‘service’ for almost an entire week. I feel so horrible you went through that and I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure her with a small smile. “I’m fine. It was really nerve-wracking in the moment,” you say as you glance down at your hands, twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night flash through your mind. “But having him there really helped calm me down,” you admit in a hushed tone. When you look up at Mina, she wears a soft and knowing expression on her face.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she murmurs and returns your smile with one of her own, but her eyes still look at you with caution.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I don’t really know Gojo that well. From what you’re telling me, he seems like a nice guy,” she comments, “but the fact he’s been really diligent in following-through with this whole film photography assignment of yours makes me wonder where his head’s at with you.” She finishes her sentence, but you continue to watch her since you could tell she had more on her tongue. “I just hope he’s not messing with you.”

“Messing with me?” you ask her. There’s a part of you deep inside that’s wondering the same thing, but the thought of having to confront that feeling in order to get an answer makes you want to stay in blissful ignorance instead.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at you for a few seconds. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just a crush, right?” Her phone chimes with an alarm noise and she grabs it to turn it off. “Oh shoot, I’m going to be late for class,” she groans, leaping up off of her bed and stuffing all of her things on her desk into her bag. She gives you a goodbye over her shoulder just before she heads out of your shared room and then you’re all by yourself.

Mina’s last question to you hangs in the air. You didn’t really know how you would’ve answered, because you didn’t know what you expected to come from your feelings, if anything at all. You’ve had feelings for plenty of other guys before, some turning into something more and others turning into nothing at all. Having feelings for someone wasn’t really something to worry about or complicate.

You lay back down onto your bed with a sigh and go to the messages on your phone, clicking on Gojo’s name. It was so bizarre that he was now in your list of actual text messages since you had his number now, but the two of you have only exchanged a few texts since that night you last saw him. He sent over his practice schedule for the week, which was pretty packed and busy since their big game on the 28th was in just two days, and when you zoom in on the picture you see that he has practice in about ten minutes from now. You assumed that since he never texted you about it, they were probably just doing drills out on the field or some other exercises. But you missed him, and you wished that you did have an excuse to visit him. You didn’t care about tweaking your camera angles, fixing the exposure, or trying out different light sensitivities for your photos so they come out immaculate. You just wanted to see him again.

Tossing your phone to your side, suddenly frustrated by how mentally drained you feel, you look around the room and decide to tidy up a bit to distract yourself from all your emotions. As you start to pick things up off your desk and place them back on the shelf, you notice that you still have a netted bag full of washed laundry to fold. You dump all of the clothing onto your bed, consisting of sports bras, multiple pairs of jeans, your nice panties and also your grandma undies. One of the articles of clothing catches your eye, and you pull it out from the pile. It was Gojo’s jacket.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you take in the sight of it, all the memories of that night flashing back into your head. You remember the chill of the air, the deep sound of his voice beside you, the gentle look in his eyes, his lips pressed against yours. Gojo had kissed you, so that had to have meant something, right? Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, an emotional decision because the two of you were alone, and it was dark, and it was cold, and you two were reveling in each other’s warmth, but it was still something he initiated. It was so brief, the moment cut so tragically short that you still find yourself craving more despite the fact it happened almost a week ago. Mina wasn’t home that night, and instead of spending the rest of it curled up by yourself like you ended up doing, you could’ve easily invited him inside. You wonder if he would’ve taken you up on the offer, and how far you two would’ve gone. And now, because you were imaging it, you find it in your heart that you wanted it. Before you know it, those feelings you swore you wouldn’t complicate started to feel complicated. If all the novels, movies, poems, and folklore of this world have been any indicator, when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s always impossible to defy.

You bring the jacket to your chest, the fabric now smelling like the laundry detergent that all of your other clothes smell like, and no longer of him. It was the polite thing to do to wash it, but the absence of his scent on the soft material just made you miss him even more.

Closing your eyes in disbelief at the thought that crosses your mind, you resolve to act now and deal with whatever comes later. If you wanted to see him, you were going to see him. Besides, wanting to hand his jacket back to him wasn’t so bad of an excuse to drop by, right? What if it was a deeply sentimental article of clothing that is agonizing for him to be apart from? (a/n. he doesn’t even realize you still have it lol)

You grab your tote bag as well as his jacket and head out of your apartment, down to the ground floor, and walk down the street until you reach the bus stop that takes you to campus. You make it there in about forty minutes, the bus dropping you off near the central area. As you start walking towards the expensive art sculpture near the practice fields, you pass by the school’s mini convenience store and the bottles of strawberry vanilla soda splayed out in the display case catches your eye. You then find yourself inside buying two cans. One for him, one for you. Maybe he’ll be open to hanging out after practice, and you could properly treat him to something nice for all of his help.

Soon enough, you’re walking across the grassy hills that lead to the field. It was a slightly gloomy day today, with the sun only peaking through the clouds every five minutes or so, but it was still beautiful and something about the fresh air made your chest swell with ease. Just as you get closer, you notice Geto and Nanami walking together in your direction.

“Oh, it’s y/n!” you hear Geto say when you approach them.

You greet the two of them with a smile. “Hello, it’s nice to see you two. Are you finished with practice?”

“No, we’ve still got about two hours left, but we just finished a pretty intense set of drills so coach is giving us a fifteen,” Geto says through strained breathing, and you finally notice that the two of them looked sweaty and spent. “What’s that in your arms?”

You look down at the strawberry vanilla sodas you were carrying and then back up at the two of them. “Oh…I just wanted to bring some soda for mr. center forward, as a thanks for getting me referee permission to be on-field on Thursday.”

Nanami crosses his arms across his chest and Geto’s eyes widen. “Damn, wish I had a cute girl go out of her way to bring me strawberry-flavored soda mid practice,” Geto muses.

“I don’t think Satoru deserves this level of kindness, y/n,” Nanami tells you with a shake of his head. Geto looks over at him with a wry expression before letting out a small laugh.

You give the two of them a smile. “No, really, he’s been helpful. Is he out on the field?” you ask, standing on tiptoes to try and peer over their shoulders towards the field.

“Yeah, he is, I think he stayed back since Coach Yaga was yelling at him about something,” Geto answers and he takes a glance at his watch, “he usually doesn’t stick around to take the lecturing for longer than two minutes so he’s probably somewhere hanging around nearby.”

“That’s good. Coach Yaga scares me,” you admit to the two of them, pretending to shiver at the thought of him yelling, and this earns a smile from Nanami.

“He’s really not that scary of a guy, just pretends to be one,” Geto informs you then lets out an exhale and places his hands on his hips after fully regaining his breath. “So, you’re going to be on the field with us on Thursday? That’s awesome, please cheer for us. Also, you should come out to the house party the night before the game.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guys still party before your big games?”

Geto laughs. “I always forget you’re not in a sorority. Yeah, we do, I think the frat just wants an excuse to go crazy and picks our game schedule to go off of. You’ve no idea how many of our players have been in massive shit by showing up hungover to games.”

Nanami lets out a disgruntled noise. “It’s irresponsible, honestly.”

You give an apologetic laugh before fidgeting with the soda cans in your arms, eventually throwing them into your tote, and then peering over their shoulders once more as an impatient feeling washes over you, the desire from earlier to see Gojo consuming you in a way that was entirely distracting. Nanami seems to notice this as he uncrosses his arms and slightly nudges Geto with his elbow. Geto sends him a curious glance before looking back at you.

“Well, anyway. If you’re free tomorrow night, come by. Pre-game parties are usually pretty hype. Yuuji’s bouncing, so he’ll let you in,” Geto says to you, giving you a kind smile.

“Yeah, I’ll try to make it,” you say, returning his smile. The two of them walk past you and you continue to trek forwards until you reach the large hill that oversees the field.

Once you’re at the top, your eyes immediately scan the field for Gojo, and you quickly spot him at the foot of the hill talking to some people. You notice the group surrounding him weren’t wearing athletic clothing of any sort, so you assumed they were just his friends. He had a bright smile on his face and just the sight of it created a warmth within you. As you begin to stumble down the hill, your legs hasty in their stride, you see him leaning down forward towards one of the girls in the group with a playful look on his face. The girl looks up at him with a tilt of her head and you hear feminine, high-pitched laughter in the air as she steps closer to him, swatting at his chest from something he says. He’s fully grinning at her now, and it’s so painfully obvious they’re flirting that the feeling in your chest that was so excited to see him quickly turns sour.

He somehow catches you standing at the bottom of the hill in his periphery and his eyes widen. There’s a moment where you hesitate, but eventually take a deep breath and make your way through the crowd. A few within the group let out confused noises from the disruption and then you were standing right in front of Gojo.

“Who’s this?” one of his friends asks, particularly annoyed since you had accidentally nudged him to the side in your stride. You could feel the wide eyes from the men and the curious glares from the women.

Gojo’s standing there shocked, likely from the fact that he wasn’t expecting you to be here, and then glances around to the people in the group. “Oh, just someone I…” he starts, his facial expression softening slightly when he looks back at you, but you’re giving him a guarded expression, “...know.”

Your mouth opens slightly in disbelief, before you quickly close it. It’s true that you didn’t really know what you and Gojo were at the moment, it’s possible you would’ve answered the same, but his description of the nature of your relationship with him still hurts. He could’ve at least said your name or introduced you. And your disappointment from his words made you realize an unsettling truth, which was that you did want more from him, and you weren’t sure if that was something he was interested in at all.

The girl he was talking to earlier is glaring daggers at your side, and you suddenly feel suffocated surrounded by a group of people watching you with interest. The man in front of you, despite getting to know him for the better part of the past three weeks, started to feel like a stranger to you all over again. You shove his jacket to his chest, and he looks down at it with surprise before hesitantly grabbing onto it.

“Just wanted to return your jacket,” you mumble to him, trying so hard to sound neutral and sane. “I washed it for you.”

You hear a few of the men surrounding you coo something suggestive, a few laughs making their way between them as the women in the group scoff in denial. You ignore them and keep your gaze on Gojo. He’s looking straight down at you and scanning your features, and you notice his face briefly contorts into one of guilt when he registers the disappointed look on your face.

Reaching into your bag, you pause when you see the two cans of strawberry vanilla soda sitting at the bottom, the smiling cartoon mascot faces on the labeling staring up at you like some pitiful conscience. You reached in and grabbed one regardless, then extended it to Gojo. He blinks at it before looking up at you. When he doesn’t immediately grab it, you also shove it to his chest until he does. When his fingertips make contact with your hand as he takes it from you, the contact sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite your lip, faltering before you speak again. “For your help. Officially even now.” Then you turn around and push through the strangers spectating the whole scene to make it over to the grassy hills. You vaguely hear Gojo call your name out from behind you, his voice quickly drowned out by the voices of those surrounding him as they continue conversation, and soon enough you’re out of sight over the hill.

—

“So, you’re telling me that this guy goes out of his way to help you for this class assignment, in a way that’s unproportionate to the favor that you put in for him, he flirtatiously teases you any chance he gets, drives out late at night to stay with you when you’re stranded with a flat, has an earnest conversation with you about life, kisses you, diligently takes care of you until you’re home safe, and then when you run into him in front of his friends, he says you’re just someone he knows?” Mina’s recounting every single painful detail as she paces around in your shared room. “I know you both haven’t had a conversation about anything after that night, which is insane because you should’ve, but at least he could’ve said you were a friend?”

You scoff from where you’re laid down on your bed. “I caught him sliding his hands up a girl’s top in the bathroom at that SAE party last week, and when he tried to explain the situation to me he said that he and that girl are just friends. So, by his definition, we’re definitely not friends.”

Mina sighs. “Honestly, y/n, I know he’s charming and he’s been nice to you, but he still has a reputation for being a player.”

You look up at the ceiling, your pillow clutched in your arms for emotional support. “He almost looked like he didn’t even want me there. Like I was an unwelcome interruption. Some sort of nuisance.” You weren’t sure exactly how to read the expression he had on his face from your unexpected visit, but your brain had a habit of settling on the worst.

Mina sits down at her desk, turning her chair to face you. You were fully sulking like a heart-broken teenager and you didn’t understand why. He wasn’t any sort of title to you, and you haven’t even known him for that long. Barely a couple weeks ago, you were still resolved to the fact that he was some sort of mystery. An urban legend around campus that you couldn’t believe you were talking to because people like him didn’t usually talk to people like you.

“Why don’t you just ask him how he feels about you? Put an end to the guessing game. Be like ‘hey, jerk, I know it’s common-place for frat dudes to kiss girls like they’re a dime a dozen. But that’s not gonna fly with me, so fess up on your intentions’. Something like that,” Mina suggests, waving a finger in the air.

You glance at her annoyed. “Were you trying to do an impression of me? I don’t talk like that.”

“You kind of do, love,” she says with a smile on her face.

You look back up at the ceiling. “...I don’t want to have that conversation with him. It’ll hurt my pride. He should’ve been the one asking me what we are now, since he’s the one that kissed me.” You turn to gauge her opinion at your words, but her expression isn’t giving any hints. “Is that petty? I feel like I’m being petty.”

“No, girl, I agree with you,” she says with a sigh, “that’s how it should be, but almost never ends up being the case.” She looks up at the ceiling briefly, a thought forming in her head, before looking down at you with a sly smile.

“What?” you ask, already wearily anticipating her response.

“You want to know how to find out how he feels about you without asking him how he feels about you?” she says like it was some sort of sales pitch.

You turn onto your side and perch yourself up on your elbow, a little too interested. “How?”

She snaps her fingers. “Make him jealous.”

You look at her apprehensively. “Jealous?”

“I mean, that’s the foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you. Based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat,” she says with a playful shrug.

You flop down on the bed again. “Now that’s petty.” You hug your pillow to your chest again, considering the option. You didn’t even know if Gojo would feel jealous if you tried to make him jealous, it’s possible he wouldn’t even care at all if he saw you with another guy.

“Yes, petty, but so what? We’re seniors in college, now’s our last chance to be petty. After we graduate, we’ve got to be fully functioning members of society,” she sighs, “you only get to be a petty college chick once.”

“How would I make him jealous?” you ask, still dwelling on her suggestion.

“Well, SAE is having that pre-game party tonight, he’s definitely going to be there. It’s your chance,” she says, tapping at her phone to glance at the time.

You hum to yourself. The mature part of you is telling you that it’s a ridiculous idea, but the angel on your shoulder that has weathered the pain of all your confusing feelings as of lately was starting to play devil’s advocate. After a minute’s silence, you cover your face with your hand and groan. “Oh god.”

Mina looks up at you again. “What?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you say, swinging your feet over to the edge of the bed so you’re sitting up, pillow still hugged to your chest as you look at her. “I’m going to go find out how he really feels about me.”

Mina’s smiling at you and hops onto her feet. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for the toxic version of you to make her appearance.”

There was still a couple of hours before the party, so you take a shower and spend some time doing your hair as well as makeup. Wearing your robe, you walk over to your dresser and open it to pull out a pair of jeans when Mina looks over at you and sighs. You send her a look and she makes her way over to you, nudging you to the side with her hip and shoving your jeans back into the drawer.

“You’re not wearing jeans to this party,” she groans, “do I seriously have to teach you everything?” Mina starts shifting through the clothes you had hung up on your hangers, eyes landing on something that was tucked away to the side. She pulls out your black dress, the one that had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the short hem that barely fell to the middle of your thighs. She pats at the soft and silky material, pulling on it in an attempt to smooth out one of the wrinkles. “Oh, yes, honey. This will definitely do.”

“It’s wrinkled,” you say in a poor attempt to get out of wearing it.

“Nothing my straightener set at 350 degrees won’t fix,” she says to you with a wink.

It takes Mina three minutes to prepare your dress for you while you anxiously pace around the room, fidgeting to yourself, and she eventually hands it to you to wear. The dress had an A-line silhouette cinched at the waist and the top half was tight, so you decided not to wear a bra with it. Just as you’re about to pull on a pair of biker shorts underneath to cover a bit more since the short fabric was hardly doing much, Mina sends you another disappointed look.

“y/n, please, you’re killing me here,” she says. “To make him jealous, you’ve gotta get other guys to look at you. That might mean being a bit risque with the attire tonight.”

You sulk your shoulders before sighing and tossing your biker shorts back into your closet. You turn around to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress over you and tousling with your hair before gasping a little as you take in your entire appearance. You looked good, and Mina’s playful cat-call from behind you only gave you a greater kick of confidence.

“Love it, cute but sexy at the same time,” she says with a smile. “It’s your turn to be the hottie at the party.”

You two decide to take an Uber to the frat strip, arriving at the host house close to 10pm, and you can already hear the loud chanting and music inside. As you make your way up to the driveway, a gust of wind breezes by and your hands immediately hold down the fabric of your dress in an attempt to not flash the group of people walking behind the two of you. Mina looks over at you with a mischievous smile. You make eye contact with Yuuji at the entrance and he straightens his posture when he sees you and Mina approaching.

“Hello, ladies. I see we’ve switched roles here tonight,” Yuuji says with a tip of his head. “Bombshell friend,” he gestures to you, “and-”

“If you call me a casual tomboy, I can’t guarantee I won’t smack you,” Mina says to him.

Yuuji blinks at her. “Head on in,” he mumbles and you two walk past him.

It hits you as you walk inside that this is the third SAE party that you’ve been to within the past three weeks, and yet the atmosphere still surprises you every time. The music was loud, but at this one, the people chanting was even louder. You notice there were posters and flags with the school’s colors and symbols plastered up and hanging from the staircase, as well as pinned up jerseys on the walls that looked a lot like the ones that the soccer players wear during matches. Oh, and derogatory insults for the opposing school were drawn across all the decorations.

“I’m going to go find Todo,” Mina says to you with excitement and then she’s skipping off into the heart of the party, leaving you alone.

You sigh and fidget with the sleeves of your dress, looking around the party, your heart beating fast in your chest at the prospect that you’ll lock eyes with Gojo but you don’t see him anywhere. As you walk inside, you notice that people are looking at you, and when you make eye contact with some, you notice a lot of them were men, and the attention has you itching for a drink. You quickly make your way into the kitchen and are satisfied when you see the insane amount of options that you can reach for on the island. You grab a White Claw, crack the can open and when you turn around, you jump a little from the sight of a person in front of you.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of you says with an apologetic look on his face, and you recognize him as the one that was bouncing the last SAE party that you went to last weekend. “Just going to reach around you to grab…that.” He reaches around you to grab an entire bottle of tequila, his arm brushing against yours and his eyes meet yours with a smile on his face. “I remember you from last week. You’re stunning by the way, what’s your name?”

You tell him and he’s nodding his head slowly, a cheeky look on his face that you’re used to seeing when guys attempt small talk to distract from the other less-than-innocent things they have floating around in their heads. “Nice, I’m Ryota,” he says as he adjusts the snap-back he was wearing on his head, “you, uh, in a sorority?” He leans back against the kitchen counter in front of you and you wonder if grabbing the tequila was just an excuse to talk to you.

You find yourself turning away from him slightly, taking a huge gulp of the White Claw you had in your hands to realize that 8% ALC./VOL was not going to be enough to get you through the night, so you turned to face him again. “No, I’m not. Are you going to drink all that tequila by yourself or are you looking to share?”

He smirks at you. “There’s enough for two.”

You and this man you met literally two minutes ago cheers a few shots, throwing them back, and you notice that he does them almost effortlessly while you’re wincing from the fact that it’s been a long time since you’ve had hard liquor. He’s chuckling at your reactions as your face scrunches up from your third shot and you wave your hand in front of your face from the burn. A few people that walk in and out of the kitchen periodically give the two of you amused looks before walking back out into the loud party nearby.

“Can’t handle your alcohol?” Ryota asks and you sigh, your face already feeling flushed.

“I can, I swear,” you whine.

“Here, wanna?” he says to you as he hands you another shot and then he holds his outstretched arm up. You think he’s trying to cheers, so you tap his shot glass, and then he’s laughing. “No, hold your arm out.” You do as he says and he holds his arm against yours and soon enough he’s taking a step closer to you and you’re interlocking your arms at the elbow. You let out a small gasp from his proximity but his eyes on you are unwavering. He brings his shot glass to his lips and you do the same and then you both tip your heads back, the burn in your throat making you unwind your arm from him and shake your head until you’re leaning back against the island counter and you hear him laugh again in front of you.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls out that instantly sobers you up from the four shots of tequila you so valiantly threw back.

The two of you turn your heads to look at the source of the voice, and you see Gojo standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest, still so shocked at just how breathtaking he was anytime you saw him. He was holding an empty bottle of alcohol in his hands. You straighten your posture but Ryota still leans against the counter nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s up dude. Sorry, I was about to circle back with more tequila, but I got caught up in here,” Ryota says and flashes you a smile. “Do you know y/n here?”

You observe Gojo, who wears a tense expression in response to hearing his words, and then he locks eyes with you. A look of surprise swiftly passes across his face as he takes in your appearance, and you feel as if you're practically burning under his gaze. He looks back at Ryota and furrows his brow.

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters and rudely pushes right in between the two of you to make it to the fridge. “Seems like you do, too.”

Ryota seems to pick up on something from Gojo's tone that you don’t, because suddenly he’s standing up straight from the counter and turns to look at you with a contemplative expression. "I'll bring the tequila, or what's left of it I guess, out there," he mentions to Gojo, excusing himself with a brief glance in your direction. As he leaves and turns around the corner, a noticeable weight hangs in the air from how you and Gojo are alone in the kitchen now.

You lean back against the island, reaching for the White Claw you had opened earlier and take another sip. There was a muted buzz lingering in your head, and it felt good, offering a pretty welcome distraction from the fact that Gojo was standing just a few feet away from you, searching for something in the fridge. When he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, he closes the fridge door with a louder-than-normal slam, startling you, and then he turns around to face you.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he declares with an edge to his voice, and you’re already rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, pal, should I send you a notarized attendance letter three business days in advance so I don’t end up cock-blocking you in a bathroom again?” you sneer at him.

He leans back against the fridge, facing you as he crosses his arms across his chest. Damn it, don’t stare at the muscles. Don’t do it. “What’s with the attitude?”

“I don’t have an attitude, this is just how I talk to my acquaintances,” you retort as you take another sip of your drink.

He takes a step forward to you, eyes shamelessly dipping to the neckline of your dress and then a little bit further to where the hem grazes your thighs. He places his palm on the counter behind you that you were resting back on and then he’s leaning closer to you, your grip on the can in your hand tightening. He was so close that you can’t think of anything but him. His eyes are on your lips when he speaks. “Are we just acquaintances?”

You narrow your eyes at him, all of your anger from yesterday and earlier today resurfacing at his question as you look up at him straight in the eyes. “Yes, I’m only someone you know, right?”

He’s sighing and you can tell he wants to pull away from you to display his annoyance, but he stays right where he’s at. The hand that was placed on the counter slowly inches towards your waist until his thumb is brushing against the fabric of your dress just underneath your rib cage. He starts to draw slow circles on the material, pressing into your skin occasionally, and you‘re breathless from the contact. “I’m getting the hint that you’re mad at me about something, but it’s hard to care when you’re looking like this.”

You let out a scoff at his words. You’ve spent the past two days suffering from his behavior, and he’s trying to get away with it by practically seducing you. But there was also a part of you that was entirely aroused by how little he seemed to care about your attitude and how much more he seemed to care about the way you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Looking like what?”

The thumb that was pressing against the clothed skin of your waist retreats and his hand moves back to where it was before, laid flat on the counter next to you, except this time his other arm reaches out for the surface too. And now he’s got you caged-in, looking down at you like he’s trying really hard to not get even closer. “Looking hot as fuck? You’re kind of vain for making me say it out loud.”

You’re effectively dazed out of your goddamn mind at this point, using all the self-control you’ll have for the rest of a lifetime to not grab onto his shirt and pull him into you, all inhibitions lost to the wind. You wouldn’t even care if anyone walked in, you just needed him on you, touching you, kissing you right now. But there’s a tiny part of you that’s still mad at him, and fortunately that tiny part of you pulls through. “If you think trying to seduce me is going to make me not angry anymore, you’re out of luck.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you. You think this is me trying to seduce you? If that’s so, I’m starting to worry you won’t be able to take it,” he whispers that last part so suggestively that you’re weak in the knees from his words. He seemed so different, entirely preoccupied by taking in the sight of every inch of you in front of him that any sense of shame or guilt has left his body, and he’s just looking at you with desire.

“Satoru…” is all you manage to say as you look up at him, your thighs clenching from the arousal of just his presence surrounding you.

You see him close his eyes for a second and exhale before he opens them, his pupils all the way dilated and wild when he looks at you again. “Yeah?” he responds, his head dipping down towards yours slightly, lips just inches from yours, like he’s waiting for your permission to act.

“I…” you start, blinking up at him through your lashes, “...I was having a lot of fun earlier throwing back shots of tequila, and you kind of ruined that. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to it.” You place a hand on his chest, his gaze dropping to it in surprise as he watches you push him away from you all the way until his back hits the fridge with a thud.

“What the fuck?” he utters, his face contorted into a confusion you found incredibly comical.

You press up against him, looking up with round eyes and innocence, and you feel him immediately tense up. “Also, very inappropriate to treat someone you barely know like that. I’ll let it slide, though.”

The last thing you see before you turn away from him is his shocked expression, blinking at you with the rest of him practically motionless, and you skip out of the kitchen towards the main party happening around the corner out of his sight.

There were bustling people, a few guys coming up to you to talk to you, but you ignore them until you spot Geto, Nanami, some of the other soccer players, and a bunch of other people huddled around in a circle. You tap on Geto’s shoulder and he turns around to face you.

“Oh! Hey, what’s up, you made it,” Geto greets you, pulling you in for a brief hug which surprises you but was also pleasantly received as you hugged him back with a friendly pat. You could smell the alcohol from him. When he pulls away from you, he’s beaming. “We’re all doing rounds of shots, wanna join?”

“Oh my god, the words I’ve been wanting to hear all night,” you say and you join the circle, a bunch of people cheering as they usher you towards the center and you grab a shot glass from the small round table. A group of maybe fifteen people all raise their shot glasses up in the air, you included, and say some incoherent, non-rehearsed words of luck for the soccer team’s game tomorrow before everyone throws back their shots. You’re squealing and jumping up and down in excitement with Geto and watch as Nanami pretends to throw back his shot before dumping its contents into a red plastic solo cup in his hand instead.

“This is so much fun!” you’re yelling. “Can we do another?”

“Hey! New girl wants to do another,” one of the frat dudes calls out, which is followed by cheers and then messy pouring of tequila all over the table as people extend their shot glasses out to be filled.

Two, three, four, eventually five is your limit until you wander away from the circle, entirely tipsy at this point, over to where people were dancing in front of the DJ’s booth. You bump into some couples that were grinding up on each other, your drunk conscience shamelessly watching their movements, and then accidentally bump into a man so hard that it almost sends you falling back onto the ground but he grabs your arm and keeps you upright. His drink spills a bit out of his hand and onto your dress, making you giggle like a freak.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he’s yelling to you over the music.

“No, I’m sorry,” you yell back, and then you notice he’s wearing a jacket that mimics the patterns of the school’s soccer jersey and has an embroidered player’s number on the chest. It hits you that you’ve seen him on the field before briefly during the practices you’ve been to. “Are you on the soccer team?”

“Yeah, I am,” he says and he tells you his name but the music is way too loud to hear it, and you’re also sort of drunk at this point to register it anyways. But he was cute, and you decided you wanted to dance with him, and dance away is exactly what you do.

When he twirls you around and presses his chest against your back, your line of sight falls straight ahead to where you see Gojo sitting on a couch. Your heart sinks in your chest when you see a girl place a hand on his thigh and lean towards him, practically sitting in his lap, but the look on his face tells you he’s entirely distracted by something else. His eyes search the room for a few seconds, and when they land on you, he stills. When he tilts his head up to peer behind you and sees who you were dancing with, a look of shock crossed his face.

For fucks sake, you wouldn’t flirt with one of his teammates, right?

In your drunk, hazy mind, Mina’s words flash by in your head. The foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you is based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

You turn around, reach up and pull the man you were dancing with down towards you, and you kiss him. The man hesitates, clearly surprised, before moving his lips against yours and just when you feel his hands make their way to your waist, you’re being yanked away from him by the arm. When you turn to look at the perpetrator, you see a very viscerally angry-looking Gojo in front of you and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god, he looked pissed. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under right now.

He pulls you by your forearm over to the stairs, and you’re protesting, trying to yank away from his harsh grip, but he doesn’t budge as he takes you up to the second floor and just when you two have made it into the secluded hallway, he pushes you up against the wall, caging you into it with his body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he scowls at you, leaning in closer, tone so searing it’s enough to set you on fire.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yell back at him, anger rising within you.

“You’re seriously turning out to be a real fucking pain in the ass,” he hisses the words, his eyes darting across your face before settling on your lips.

“Why do you care? I’m just-” you start but he interrupts you when his lips crash down on yours, taking you by surprise. His kiss was hungry, ravenous, all-consuming. So different from that night when he kissed you for the first time with nothing but tenderness. This one felt like he wanted to take everything from you, leaving nothing behind. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your arms slide up past his shoulders, locking behind his neck, and he’s groaning against your mouth before biting at your bottom lip. When you grant him access, he deepens the kiss and the taste of him intoxicates you.

“If you imply that you’re just a stranger to me one more fucking time,” he’s growling against your mouth, “I’ll make sure we get real well acquainted with eachother against this wall right now.” His hands find the flesh underneath your ass and he easily hoists you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. “Ask me if I give a fuck if anyone sees.”

“Oh my god,” you’re gasping, his words hitting you straight to your core, and when you feel his clothed erection pressed against the flimsy cloth of your panties, the self-resolution you once had was all but a distant memory. “Satoru, bathroom, please, not here.”

When you tip your head back, giving him access to your neck and he immediately indulges, peppering kisses down your skin, you roll your hips against his and he squeezes the flesh of your ass hard to reprimand the motion before he takes you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, then setting you up on the counter.

His kisses get lower until he’s at your collarbone, and he pulls you forward towards him on the surface to where you’re sitting at the edge and he has his hands digging at the soft flesh of your thighs. You’re squirming in his grasp, gripping onto his shirt for any sort of purchase. When his kissing reaches the neckline of your dress and his finger hooks the fabric, threatening to pull it down, he looks at you.

“Please,” you ask him simply.

He raises an amused eyebrow, pulling down the fabric slowly to just above where your nipples would be set free. “You think you’re in a position to ask for anything from me right now?”

“Oh my fucking god I swear, if you don’t yank my dress down, I’ll choke you,” you threaten him.

“Careful, pretty, I might be into that,” he chides, pressing a kiss to your chest.

You grab the wrist of the hand that was still hooked inside your cleavage, and pull it down harshly so your tits are set free and he leans away from you to take in the sight. He’s mesmerized for a moment, his hand wrapping around your rib cage and thumb poking the softness from the side before it eventually reaches your nipple and starts to play with it. “God, you’re so beautiful. Remind me why we didn’t do this the first night we met?”

When his mouth latches onto your nipple, you tip your head back with a moan and you’re not able to come up with an answer to his question. Because he was right, it was insane that the two of you didn’t. Your hand runs through the short hair of his undercut at the nape of his neck and then grips at the soft strands a bit higher as he sucks and licks at your breasts. You wrap your legs around him tighter, pulling his hips to you, and from the edge of the counter you start to roll your wet panties against the bulge at his front to get relief. He groans against your chest before pulling away.

“You need to relax. Real fuckin’ desperate now compared to when you were pushing me away in the kitchen thirty minutes ago,” he scolds, his lips finding yours again and one of his hands trails up the skin of your thigh. You open your legs even wider for him sweetly and he smiles against your lips, his fingers brushing the skin of your inner thigh and then finally pressing against your clothed core. You instantly jolt, entirely stimulated by the contact, and he pulls away from the kiss to watch you.

“S-Satoru…” you whimper because it’s all you can manage to say, your hips pushing forward, craving more of his touch, but he withdraws from your heat all together and steps away from you, his grip on your hips dragging you forward until you step down from the counter and you’re standing in front of him, looking up like you don’t even know how to breathe unless he talks you through it. He turns you around to where you’re facing the mirror, and it’s the first time you take a look at how messed up he’s gotten you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes a little teary from the lust consuming you. Your tits that appeared plush and perked by the haphazard way the neckline of your dress was tucked underneath them were glistening with his saliva and you felt like you were about to go insane at the sight. You take a look at his face in the reflection, and he too looked like he was about to go insane at the sight.

“Bend over the counter,” he demands with a rough voice, but you don’t have much of a choice since he’s pushing down on your back anyways. You’ve risen up onto your tiptoes to accommodate the position and he lazily flips the fabric of your dress up over your ass before his hands hook into the side of your panties at your hips, pulling them down, and you feel the fabric practically peel off of you from how wet you were. And then he was on his knees behind you.

“Fuck, why didn’t we do this the first night we met?” he laments, marveling at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You already asked that question,” you mumble.

“Cause it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me,” he sighs and then he drags his index finger into your folds, from your entrance that was sopping wet all the way down to your clit. You’re wiggling, pushing your hips out towards him, and you hear him let out a low, guttural sound in his chest at the sight. His finger experimentally pushes into you and you’re gasping, hand slamming against the mirror.

“You’re so sensitive. Need a second?” he asks like he’s genuinely looking out for you, and yet he doesn’t wait before pushing another finger into you regardless.

“Mhh..n-no, just need your tongue,” you say through a shaky breath, panting from where you were on the counter.

He groans at your request and pulls his fingers out of you, instantly making you whine, before giving you a different reason to whine when his tongue presses against your clit.

Your mind was going insane, still registering the shock that this was happening as you moaned from the feeling of his tongue on you, mouth latching on and sucking harshly at your sensitive core that has you writhing and grasping onto anything you could find for purchase. The man that was making a mess at the most intimate part of you right now seemed so different from that kind man last week that pressed that chaste kiss to your lips. This was like you had just summoned the devil and he was on his knees behind you.

You make a mental note to never doubt any of Mina’s advice ever again.

When his hungry lapping at your clit turns into slow, lazy licks against your folds, you whimper above him and attempt to grind against his mouth so his tongue is where you want it. “Mm…p-please, stop teasing, I wanna cum.”

He pulls his mouth from you and you feel how slick he’s made you, nothing but a mess of your arousal and his spit, before he pushes two fingers inside you and stretches you out inside with them. “But do you deserve to cum, is the question, sweetheart,” he drawls, curling his fingers inside and pressing on that spot that had your walls fluttering around him and building that tight knot in your lower tummy.

“Yes, I do, fuck,” you’re moaning as he slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, “less talking, more licking my clit.”

His other hand finds your clit, fingers beginning to rub agonizingly slow circles, and you can feel the texture of his calluses across every single nerve ending of the aching bud. “What was that, baby? You want me to be stingy with my tongue? Alright, whatever you say, princess,” he sighs it like he has no choice but to be a fucking dick right now.

“No, oh my god, don’t be stingy with your tongue,” you cry out, your cheek pressing up against the mirror from the sheer desperation of wanting a release, “I’ll kill you.”

“Can’t make you cum if I’m dead,” he purrs. “God, your pussy’s going crazy right now, clenching around my fingers like it’s got a mind of its own. Can’t wait to fuck you,” he’s groaning, “so sweet, so tight, so wet. Exactly how I imagined it.”

“Y-You’ve imagined this?” you whimper to him when he starts to fully fuck you with his fingers.

“So many fucking times,” he grumbles, his other hand now gripping your ass and thumb spreading you more open. You blush from how exposed you felt to him, but the noises he was making from the deepest part within his chest made you realize he was a freak for it. He pulls his fingers out of you and then uses both hands to spread your folds apart as he laps at the wetness that was practically dripping from your entrance. “What your world would be like if this was your little ‘terms and conditions’ favor instead.”

His tongue latches onto your clit again and your knees almost buckle. “M-Make me cum and maybe I’ll finally regret the fact that it wasn’t,” you say to him, desperate to coax something feral from him that finally grants you release of the tension building at your core. You’re unable to stay still, squirming and squealing above him, so hopelessly at his mercy.

“Say you’ll never kiss another guy except me ever again,” you hear him grumble with his face still buried in your cunt.

“w-what…” you say, exhaling incredulously, “S-Satoru…you don’t make any sense…we’re not even dat-”

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum,” he tells you simply, pulling his mouth from you again just when you felt like you were about to topple over and you’re about ready to kick him in the face at this point. You try to look over your shoulder to read his facial expression but when his fingers take their position over your clit and he starts to draw stars, you quickly give up and rest your forehead on the mirror. Oh god, this was good, if he just kept going-

As if he could read your mind, he pulls his fingers from your clit entirely, leaving your core agonizingly empty from any part of his touch, and it makes you gasp. You’ve never felt more betrayed in your life.

“Oh my god, okay okay okay!” you’re screaming, sticking your ass out to him and he’s chuckling at the sight. “I’ll never kiss another guy again! Fucking hell, Satoru, please, just make me cum,” you beg, whimpering and almost crying, your thighs twitching from the urge to clench together for some form of relief in his absence.

He seems satisfied by your begging, because he immediately grabs your ass with both hands, one of his thumbs pushing shallowly into your drenched entrance, and then his mouth finds your clit again. You close your eyes shut, and you could feel that you were just seconds away from cumming as he simultaneously sucks and licks relentlessly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s when he groans against your center with such a primal frequency, sending shockwaves of vibrations to your center and throughout your entire body, that you fall apart for him and you come undone so violently that your knees entirely give out, and you’re screaming his name. He wraps an arm around your legs to keep you from falling as you squirm on the counter, your walls pulsing and clenching, hips twitching, and then you’re finally calming down. You lay blissfully on the surface, head down, breathing heavily with soft, remnant whimpers leaving your lips.

You hear Gojo let out a short exhale from behind you that almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. When you turn slightly to look back at him, you see he’s palming himself through his pants and looking directly at your cunt. “You’re dripping onto the floor, fuck.” He catches a drop of slick, clear arousal as it falls from your entrance, immediately bringing it to his tongue and licking it off his finger before standing up.

You barely manage to push your upper body up so that you’re standing, shaking arms working overtime to hold yourself up, and he comes up behind you to press his chest against your back, looking at you in the mirror. He was breathing heavily too, his mouth near your ear and his eyes lidded with lust. You reach your arm up and behind him to grab at the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head, your back arching from the motion, and he groans as he pushes his clothed erection against your ass, head dropping close to your shoulder from the pleasure and he presses a kiss to your skin. The image in front of you, with his broad shoulders and frame completely engulfing yours whole, your hips slightly rocking forwards and pushing against the counter from his indulgent grinding behind you, his hand reaching up to pinch and play with your nipple, it was all so erotic that you were already aching for more. He effectively finger-fucked, licked, and sucked the anger out of you, and that was a dangerous fact.

His fingers grazed up the side of your waist that the fabric of your dress still clung tightly to, and he loosely held onto you, sighing against the back of your neck which sent shivers down your spine. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So pretty like this. Turn around and face me, baby, reflection’s not enough,” he says to you and you do as he says, twirling around. His eyes take in the sight of you, his thumb coming up to press at the soft flesh of your breast and you can see it in his eyes that he was worshipping you.

You finally take in the entire image of his appearance. His chest was heaving, hair disheveled, shirt was wrinkled at the front from when you were grabbing onto it earlier. There’s a crease to his brow when he looks at you, and you realize that this is not the first time you’ve seen him look exactly like this in a party bathroom. Except the last time, it was from reasons other than your own.

And then there’s that sinking feeling in your chest again.

Just when you observe that spark of intense lust in his eyes, pupils dilated like wild, see it flash through his mind that he thinks he’s about to get lucky with you tonight, you find yourself pushing him away from you for the second time tonight. You’ve got him with his back pressed up against the wall while he looks down at you with confusion, and this time there’s desperation and panic there too.

You look up at him with a discerning softness, and all those tender feelings you’ve been experiencing for the past week come crashing down on you all at once, but your heart aches with their memory. When his eyes study your face, there’s a brief second where he’s surprised to see the way you’re looking at him, and his jaw clenches slightly.

“Thanks, I really needed this,” you whisper to him, hand patting his chest reassuringly as you try to keep your composure in front of him despite the hollow feeling in your chest, “gave me some clarity. Don’t follow me.” And then you step away from him, pull your panties back up into place, adjust the neckline of your dress up over to cover your chest, then you make your way to exit.

“What? Wait-” he scrambles, sounding stunned from behind you as you open the bathroom door, walk right out into the hallway and close the door behind you, not all the way but just enough so you were out of his line of sight.

You sigh to yourself for a second as you step to the side, fixing at your hair, then take a deep breath as you walk down the hall. It registers in your mind that he listens, never following after you.

a/n. reader is soooo messy for doing this to him right before his big game lol i'm like scared for her even though i'm literally the author hahha. i hope to see you in the next one! much love

➸ take me to chapter seven!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice (decided to tag all interacts too just so it's not missed if that's ok! love you all sm)

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