#hes been in my class for months and i have literally never paid attention to him

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for saying my family shows favoritism towards my baby cousin?

(This is copied from my Reddit drafts because my partner told me tumblr would be better for this and I trust them)

Okay this is a long one so I’m just gonna throw out fake names for everyone and everyone is white middle class Americans

I, Op, 20M, I’m a trans man not accepted by my family. This is relevant

Renee, 20F, my twin sister

Bea, 16F, my younger sister

Lee, 35F, my aunt on my father’s side

Lucas, 2M, my cousin, son of Lee

Suzie, 5F, my cousin, daughter of Lee

My father, 44M, the patriarch of our whole family

My mother, 45F

Grandpa, 76M, paternal grandpa, previous patriarch

Grandma, 74F, paternal grandma

So I’m sending this in on Christmas Day of 2023. For some context, I still live at home, but it’s more of a roommate situation now that I’m an adult. Renee lives on her out-of-state college campus but visits for holidays, and Bea is still a high schooler. Lee, her children, and her husband who isn’t relevant to this (I love my uncle, we just literally never talk) live across the country. My father is losing the battle with cancer and can’t travel, so we had two separate christmases this year, one with my immediate family and one with Lee. Grandma and Grandpa went to Lee’s, which was awesome for me because that meant I got to avoid them this year!

As the character list above states, I’m (one of) the oldest of the five grandkids with my cousins being born a lot later than me and my sisters. My family is a traditional WASP family and staunchly conservative with Aunt Lee actively being a cop right now while my parents and Grandpa served in the military. Growing up undeniably queer was hilarious, I know. But the family dynamic wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, my family did a good job of trying to hide the fact that Renee was the favorite child lol, but that was more on the basis of her having the same traditional values that they do until Aunt Lee had Suzie, then she obviously became the favorite. Fine by me, she’s an adorable girl and I love spoiling her. Also, ACAB does apply for Aunt Lee for being complacent in this system, it’s not just the most relevant part of the story besides explaining how she fits into the family dynamic

But then Lee had Lucas a few years later and the focus in the family shifted to him. At first, it was baby fever making everyone dote over him (and I’m guilty of this too) but after a while, I realized that the fever hasn’t died down. If we had family reunions, everyone would flock to Lucas and I would be the one watching Suzie. For a toddler, she’s a great conversationalist, but it was still sad to see all her aunts and uncles and cousins showering her baby brother with attention and not her. And then the comments started. That my father would only refer to Lucas as “my nephew” even when talking directly to Lee (unhinged to witness in person). That Grandpa was so happy to finally have a grandson (felt great). The lady-killer comments and guessing what profession he’s gonna go into based on how chubby of a baby he is (the money’s on Linebacker, little dude is built like a truck). Stuff like that

None of these comments were ever made about Suzie when she was born, and I really don’t want to admit that it’s because Lucas is a boy, but thats the only answer I can think of when trying to understand the favoritism. Lucas is showered in gifts and love and while I know newborns need that, Suzie received nowhere near this much attention. Lee’s husband doesn’t go to family functions because he works full time, but I heard Suzie mumble at Thanksgiving last month that she wanted to go home to daddy. It broke my fucking heart, so I called him and she got to FaceTime with my uncle until my phone died

At this point, I’m not even upset that the family ignores my obvious trans-ness as I’m over a year on T (paid for by myself too) in favor of my boy cousin. I’m upset that Suzie is getting left out of the fawning while she’s still super young and she could grow up resenting Lucas because of it.

Anyways, so this morning we opened gifts as an immediate family and I got to FaceTime my significant other as they unboxed their gift from me and we were having a good time until my dad FaceTimes Grandpa. Grandpa answers and Dad immediately asks how his nephew is. Lucas is pushed in front of the phone and all I can hear is asking about how Lucas is, is Lucas talking yet, is Lucas reading yet. I manage to squeeze my head in and ask about Suzie and Lee’s voice off camera says that “oh she’s fine, just snobbish.” Snobbish? A five year old?

And here’s where I’m probably the Asshole. Honestly, I’m looking between ESH and JAH here, but would perfectly understandable if tumblr decides YTA. My response to Lee’s comment was: “well maybe she wouldn’t be if everyone didn’t pick Lucas as the family favorite.”

My dad smacked me upside the head, Renee and Bea got really pissed off, and the FaceTime went quiet until it was cut off and Grandpa called back to talk to Dad privately. Bea called me an asshole and while my Mom got onto her for her language, Mom agreed that I was.

My dad came back from the phone and did the silent point towards his bedroom, y’all with shitty parents know the one. Because I’m twenty fucking years old and pay RENT here, I shook my head, grabbed my keys, and went to go hang out with my significant partner and work friends. We had a great time and I’m currently in the car with my significant other while typing this. I’m gonna spend the night at their place and go back in the morning to see how bad the damage is. My significant other says I was justified in what I said, but two of my work friends (one who’s a Cishet guy who grew up in a similar household and another who’s a new dad with his own son) say that what I said was uncalled for and rude. They explained that I had no right to weaponize Lucas and Suzie like that and I understand that. I’m just tired of Suzie being neglected and, selfishly I know, I’m tired of how my identity is ignored as well

So, tumblr, AITA?

TL;DR, My two year old cousin is the “only” grandson in the family. The family ignores my male identity and my baby cousin’s five year old sister to fawn over the two year old. Am I The Asshole for pointing this out point blank in front of the whole family on Christmas morning?

What are these acronyms?

[genshinconfessions]

one thing i'll never get over is just how YOUNG childe is... he fell into the abyss when he was FOURTEEN and had to survive for three months in canonical hell. when he came back, deeply traumatized because duh, his entire family thought smth was wrong with him and sent him off to the military to be rid of him. then he, as a 14 year old child, fought his way through the military and ended up as one of the most powerful leaders of said military, and i bet it didn't even take seven years (1/?)

full confession:

one thing i'll never get over is just how YOUNG childe is... he fell into the abyss when he was FOURTEEN and had to survive for three months in canonical hell. when he came back, deeply traumatized because duh, his entire family thought smth was wrong with him and sent him off to the military to be rid of him. then he, as a 14 year old child, fought his way through the military and ended up as one of the most powerful leaders of said military, and i bet it didn't even take seven years.

he had NO childhood. what should have been his childhood was just bloodlust and more bloodlust. it's even sadder when you realize that he's one of, what, seven children? and a middle one at that, so probably no one even paid him much attention until he disappeared. like, i can't tell you how fucked up i'd be if i went through what he did at age 14. like, how old is he now? hoyoverse says he's a young adult, right? so no more than 25, i'd guess.

that's actually insane if you think about it? imagine being 14 and accidentally falling into hell, having to survive three months with a mentor who doesn't even really like you, then getting booted off to the military and dealing with all of that, then getting dragged into the politics of the ruling class!!! at an age younger than 25!!! i'd literally go insane!

childe's story is probably one of the saddest but i feel like people don't realize it because he's usually so nice and seems like he turned out fine but the fact that he held off a whole giant whale from a different universe? pushing himself to the extremes for what must have been at least a year?

(idk if we were ever given the time he was missing in the fontaine quest, but i went over it with my friend and we estimated it was something like three years, but take that with a grain of salt) and remember, he was alone, visionless, and injured!!!

i know it's obvious that i'm a childe stan so this is a little bit biased but just, childe, man. i love him so much ugh.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3834

today was not the easiest day of my life.

it was actually pretty miserable because the hole in my chest is back. (the figurative one, i've never literally had a hole in my chest. we are not arcane herald viktor.)

but i brought mom and aunt wendy to mom's doctor appointment with the orthopedist and the good news is they don't have to cast her arm but the bad news is it still hurts. so we got her a new brace and headed on our way.

we stopped to get fries to feed de bords and they ate a lot of em but the ones that mom threw on the roof of my car were not eaten from the roof of my car. but we had a lovely time sitting and feeding fries to the birds in the parking lot where it says "do not feed the birds." (we do this regularly.)

at home, i realized mom's follow up appointment at ortho was the same time as another appointment so i called to reschedule it, and i checked mom's calendar and adjusted it and put things where they needed to be and wrote things down that needed to be put in. a lot of work because mom can't write anymore. kinda sucks.

and it was at that point that i knew i was going to have a difficult remainder of my day.

we ordered pizza and subs and i put on a comfy sweatshirt and grabbed button, my triceratops. i know it was gonna be hard so i was gonna be prepared as much as i could.

early on in the day i had taken some adderall because i finally found some, and i took it hoping it'd still work. but i am here at almost midnight to report that it barely helped, if at all. gonna try again tomorrow. hopefully i can focus on things and do some work. otherwise i'm boned.

eventually i came upstairs and had to set up for class but the consternation and churning in my chest was too much to bear. so i texted joel about it. i also briefly texted leo, but at that point class was starting and i had to pay attention.

but before class started, i had told joel that i just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

so i set my laptop on the table and cried. i had closed the door because i knew i was going to cry, and i sobbed into my sweatshirt. it's one thing to be frustrated. it's another thing entirely to be emotionally and physically exhausted while being frustrated and feeling used, lonely, put-upon, and worn out.

so i cried for a few minutes, tears soaking different parts of my sweatshirt as i held it to my face.

eventually i collected myself and grabbed a box of tissues, blew my nose, gave my momma a kiss, and went and sat down at my laptop to pay attention.

i did okay at paying attention. i am not doing okay. but i paid attention a bit.

but i have the homework still to do. and next week's as well.

so i'm struggling with that.

after class was over, i texted leo and told him everything that was going on in my head, how i was feeling, why i was feeling the way i was feeling, and just explaining it as best i can why the hole in my chest is back.

he listened and talked me through it a little bit. i know he's got plenty of experience with hospital caring for your mom and how much it sucks. but he's supportive as i deal with my dark days as much as i was of him in his. so i'm grateful.

mom came back upstairs after dinner, which i did not eat. i was in class while it was served. it smelled good, though. mom and i watched a few episodes of ncis before we called it quits around 10pm.

i've been texting joel a little bit more, and he's telling me silly things and is generally cheering me up because he knows when i need silly and when i need to be listened to and when i need a reality check. he's good for me, and i'm grateful for his level-headedness.

and now it's almost midnight and i'm ready to sleep for a month.

sigh.

[songmingisthighs]

i'm ranting here idc lmao skip if you don't wanna know the crap my mom pulled on me

so she suddenly came into my room asking me if i wanted to go to Starbucks and i said no bc... i don't want to go? THEN she suddenly went like (m: mom, s: smt)

m: why are you like this?

s: like what?

m: you changed. you're not like this usually

s: like what?

m: torturing yourself

s: who said i'm torturing myself?

m: well you're not talking and you seem to not want to connect to people

s: says who??? (literally i talk to meimei and my other sister all the damn time and I'm literally talking to my ex again so jokes on her) and i don't talk because there is nothing to talk about (and bc i can't talk to her about anything bc she cuts my words all the damn time and changes topics to whatever she wants to talk about and doesn't care about things that interest me??? does that seem like a conversation or relationship i wanna maintain ?? and my dad literally criticize me all the damn time because i have a headphone. I'm basically being bullied. not an hour ago, when they thought i couldn't hear them talking, my dad made YET ANOTHER COMMENT about me wearing my headphones despite me working on my freelance task which is doing translation which i can do unlike him who supposedly went to school in America and didn't even know that 'marital' is another word for marriage and literally had to come to me whenever he wants to spellcheck or translate a whole copy for his company as if google translate and Grammarly doesn't exist)

m: why so?

s: idk? because there just isn't anything to talk about?

m: well don't be like this

F Y TO THE FUCKING I, i "changed" because if i remember correctly (which i do, i have excellent recall skills but shit attention skills) i was criticized by my whole damn family INCLUDING AND ESPECIALLY HER, MY MOM because i was loud and as they told me, "girls shouldn't be loud and boisterous, that's unlady like." YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS UNLADY LIKE ???? REMINISCING ABOUT BREASTFEEDING AT A FOOD COURT IN SINGAPORE, TALKING ABOUT PUSSIES IN PUBLIC, SENDING A PICTURE OF AN ABALONE TO A FAMILY GROUPCHAT WITH NOT JUST PARENTS BUT CHILDREN AND SAYING "THIS LOOKS LIKE MY PUSSY HAHA" (my aunt did this not my mom or else i would've kms immediately), AND SAYING "I WANT TO TAKE A PISS" (but in a disgusting, uneducated Indonesian vernacular) OUT LOUD IN PUBLIC. i might not be the girliest girl, but when I'm in public, i have class. it's low but it's still above her

literally she only "cares" about me when my biological older sister is not around and another FYI, my biological older sister doesn't even seem interested in having me as a sister ??? never has been ??? i changed ??? no bitch, my mom changed when my sister is not around. my sister was in Singapore for like a month and during that time, she kinda paid more attention on me? BUT AS SOON AS MY SISTER RETURNS every single time she asked me if i want to go out is ALWAYS for my sister. "you wanna go out? we're taking your sister to the dentist" "wanna go out? your sister wants to go to (some damn nerd) camera convention (filled with sleazy people)" "wanna go out? we're going to pick your sister up from her hangout" G 0 R L TAKE A GUESS WHY I DON'T WANNA GO OUT. and last night, she came to my room to say 'you look pale, you need to get some sun' a. i have heat allergy in which my skin will itch bad if it's exposed to the dirty ass fucking air in this polluted country and sun which ofc she wouldn't remember bc she doesn't think my medical issues are real including my asthma, b. I'm part german and part chinese-indonesian, TAKE A DAMN GUESS WHY I'D LOOK PALE

and no, i'm not petty, i'm not butthurt, i just don't wanna spend my precious time talking about some damn stupid tiktok trend or going out only to spend the majority of time deciding where to go to and then going there just to sit around and do nothing ??

this shit is barely .01% of the whole crap that happened. even my therapist could only say 'get as far away as you can if you wanna start healing' and bitch I'm starting now, I'm distancing myself from shit that can bring my mental health to a worse place

and another another fyi, i've been depressed for WEEKS now but i have functional depression and if i try to explain that to her, she'll try to convince me that it's all in my head and that it only "feels" like so because I "convinced" myself i have that and that the only way i can remedy it is by going out and interact with people

a. she's an economy major who never used her "knowledge" so what the fuck does she know about mental health or biology or heck even psychobiology when it took me bashing my head into the wall to finally take my mental condition seriously

b. literally she doesn't even know me well enough to understand my situation she should consider just not act like she knows anything because she so fucking doesn't, she's wrong 8/10 times it's actually borderline funny hearing her make out-of-pocket reaches lmao

[faerociousbeast]

wait shit the guy isnt here today and im not having breathing problems

[stateswscarlet]

Hi Scarlet! I saw your twt bio said no dms so I thought I would share my successes here that I got from your threads and content!

Bit of a background: I hovered over from the a+p girlies after affirming for 9-10 months for all my desires, using everything they taught and even putting full faith into thoughts and science manifesting. I would affirm almost nonstop (during work, school, even as I was eating/talking to others) for the entire time and I eventually got super frustrated! Not a single manifestation came in or even the slightest movement, maybe a butterfly and a car here and there (looking back at it its because I accepted seeing them internally and didn’t contradict that state, it wasn’t even the affirming). In March-ish I found your account on my timeline and previously I would ignore any states related information because I thought states were the same as dominant thoughts, but something about your thread at the time caught my attention which led me down a rabbit hole (positively!) of consuming your threads. I realized a lot of it actually made sense and explained why I didn’t see success so far.

Anyways so after a few weeks of learning about states I decided to stop overconsuming and stick to your account and edward art ONLY for all my manifestation needs. It was a little hard breaking free from the affirming mindset but I decided to focus on embodying how it would feel if I no longer had to worry about my thoughts and allowed that to wash over me. I used your “embody being the solution” thread SO SO much and I realized I was able to quickly solve all my internal issues using that because anytime I felt stuck, I just had to assume the feeling of being unstuck and what the ideal situation would be! I also fell in love with fulfilling my imagination and although I did care about experiencing it in the 3D, it was more like me not even thinking of it reflecting because its a LAW. I remember you saying you don’t even have to think about stuff reflecting because it does so anyways and my only role is to naturally give it to myself. So here is a list of some of my *bigger* manifestations that came in within a month-ish of me APPLYING states of being after I learned about it:

SP and I got back together after 8 months no contact and 11 months separation

My top choice graduate school which rejected me months ago actually reaching out to me offering me a spot saying the rejection was a “system error”

Free coachella tickets all expense paid in a luxury hotel that sponsored not only me but my boyfriend and 3 friends

My favorite makeup brand randomly sending me a HUGE package of makeup that I never ordered or asked for (I wanted more makeup from this brand)

My dad receiving a random check to clear his entire credit card debt of around a decade

A better job for my boyfriend that pays him double of his last one and has flexible hours that he didn’t need to apply for or interview and hes been loving it!

Free first class plane tickets to Bali this summer! I had already booked normal ones months before but last week I got an email saying my party had randomly been selected for a free upgrade. This happened like a day or so after I for fun assumed the state of someone who has a live of luxury.

I have other smaller successes but these are some of my main ones!I really want to thank you scarlet you have honestly changed my life and I can’t believe it truly was that easy all along! Thank you for your amazing threads, please continue dropping more (I literally have your notifs on haha)

AWW YAYYYYYAYAYS IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT!! You’re absolutely amazing🫶🏼

I dont even use this platform but just thought I would share this ❤️

[cosmickid-inmotion]

Santi with reader on her period

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader

Summary: You wake up to find you not only bled all over yourself, but your new boyfriend and his bed.

A/N I am on my period I literally just wanted to write this self indulgent shit

WARNINGS: lots of talk about blood, period, embarrassment, like,,,,, so much blood talk.

**************

When Santiago Garcia woke up that morning, the first thing he registered was you on top on him. You two hadn’t been dating for very long, a few months at most, but had quickly started staying the night at his place. He knew sometimes you got nightmares or struggled to sleep, and he would sometimes find self underneath you. He had insisted you could wake him if you were scared or couldn’t sleep, but inturn, you had insisted that all you needed was to snuggle up to him. One or the other had happened last night, as you were laying on his chest, your leg bent and spread over him in the shorts and tank top you went to bed in. 

The next thing he registered was that he was wet. Brain still foggy from sleep, he wondered if he had a wet dream, but the source seemed to come from you. Was it possible for you to get that wet from a sex dream? Were you rutting against his thigh in your sleep? He didn’t know if even that could get how soaked he felt. Was it on the bed? Fuck, he should’ve paid more attention in health class. Ah, who was he kidding, they didn’t teach this in health. Too sleep addled to think further, he pulled back the blanket, and suddenly everything made sense. 

“Sweetheart, hey” He carefully woke you.

A tired smile greeted him as you gazed up at his face. “Morning, Santi… what-” you started to register what he had.

“You started your period-”

“OH MY GOD” You sat up in horror looking at the red sheets and his stained shorts. “Fuck fuck fuck! Im so sorry!” 

“Honey it’s okay, it’s just blood” Not the first time Santi had blood on him, not the last.

Your face was beat red, humiliation burned out your skin. You couldn’t even look at your new boyfriend as you scrambled off his bed, trying not to get anything more on his blankets. “I’ll do the laundry, I’ll get the blood out, I’m so sorry”

“It’s fi-” he tried to calm you, but you weren’t listening

“Oh my god it’s early, I don’t even have any emergency shit! Fuck!” You feel a fresh wave come out, brought on by your angst and sudden blood is dripping down your legs. You burst into tears, running into his bathroom and slamming it behind you as you sat on the toilet, crying. He was going to think you were disgusting, he was never going to let you stay over again, if he didn't break up with you completely. This is the kind of thing you could get away with after a few years of dating, but a few months? Surely he was texting his friends right now, and they were all laughing at you, and he’d make fun of you for this for the short remainder of your relationship and-

Knock, knock

“Honey? You okay?”

You take a deep breath, trying not to sound too pathetic, but your voice is wobbly anyway. “No, I just bled all over you. I’m going to fucking killself, this was my 13th goddamn reason, your probably making fun of me with Benny right now and I don’t even have any pads or clothes and I have blood everywhere on me-”

“Can I come in?”

“No, I’m embarrassed enough”

“Okay” you hear a rustling at the door.“Here’s some clothes and some towels. Take a shower, get dressed. brought you boxer briefs and a washcloth, if you get done before I’m back, just use the washcloth as a pad. Or take a hot bath, whichever.” A pause. “And baby, I’m not making fun of you to Benny. You know how times I woke up covered in my own bodily fluids after a night of heavy drinking? This is nothing.”

You shut your eyes tightly. He was so goddamn sweet it fucking hurt. “Where are you going”

“I’m gonna run to the corner store, get you what you need, okay?” His voice is soft through the door.

“Yeah, okay. My purse is on the counter, my pin is-”

“Aht, no, I’m getting it”

“Santi-”  you begin to protest.

“Can’t hear you! Hamper is outside the door.” he began to walk away. You smile a bit, despite your humiliation. When you hear him leave, you clean up enough to allow you to take off the clothes. It had spread up your torso and down your legs, you looked like Carrie. You open the door to find a hamper and clothes as promised. You toss the bloody mess in, and get into the shower where you prompt break down crying again, thoughts still spiraling in embarrassment.

Despite it being in walking distance, he drove his car to the closest convenience store, wanting to get back before you were done to save you any more embarrassment if he could. He had called Frankie, knowing he could give him what he needed to know, while being discreet. “Hypothetical situation”

“Pope it’s 10 am on a sunday”

“I know, I know. But let’s say, maybe, possibly, your lady was on her period and she didn’t bring anything and you needed to get her what she needed”

“Ah. I see. Well, hypothetically, pads and tampons of course.”

“What kind?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, she was too busy crying in the bathroom for bleeding on me”

“Oh jeez. Yeah I’d probably cry over that too. Well, in general, anything with work in a pinch. Where are you?”

“7/eleven”

“Not a lot of options anyway. Unless she has an allergy or sensitive skin, whatever they have will work for today.”

”Why does walmart need a whole aisle?”

“Well different brands, but also sizes for different flows. Also some people got sensitive skin and need organic, or the big ones for overnights.”

“You certainly know your way around a vagina”

Fish chuckled. “Yeah, I do. That’s what happens when you date a girl for more than a month, ese”

“Hey! I’ve been with her for three now!” Santi said defensively.

“Ohhh, three months, I’ll reserve a church for the wedding”

“I’m serious about her, Fish” Santi got a bit more stern. “I want her to stay. She’s different.”

“I know, I know you’re serious. Listen, I’ll go to the store with you sometime this week and help you get shit girls need so you can be prepared, make a good impression. But for now, get snacks and motrin”

When he got home, you were showering, bloody clothes tossed in the hamper. Perfect, he thought. He was able to throw your clothes, his dirty ones that you bled on, and his sheets and blankets in the wash so you didn’t have to worry about them, Fish texting him laundry tips on blood removal. When he heard the shower turn off, he dashed over to the door. “Baby, I got the pads and tampons” Santi made a conscious effort to name them, trying his best to show he wasn’t grossed out by the idea of periods. “They’ll be by the door, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He gave you privacy to do what you needed.

When you emerged, it was clear you had been crying. “I’m sorry” You whimper.

Santiago speeds over to where you’re lip is quivering, taking you in his strong arms. “Don’t be embarrassed, please. I got everything washing, it was time for me to clean my sheets anyway.” A lie. He washed them yesterday because he knew you were coming over and he wanted to impress you with clean sheets.. “You don’t work today right?”

“No, I’m off”

“Great, I am too. Do you wanna… do you wanna stay the day? I’ll take you home in the morning so you can get ready for work”

You feel emotional again. “You want me to sleep over again? On my period?”

Santiago kissed your forehead. “I literally want you here all the time, no matter what, even if you’re on your period or you're sick.”

You pause, then mumble, dodging his eyes. “We can’t have sex”

Santi nods. “I know, that’s fine. We don’t have to have sex every time we see each other”

You are still unsure what to make of him. Santiago Garcia has been a mystery to you from day one, and each piece you learn only serves to further complicate him. “You want to just… hang out with me?”

Santi pulled back to look at you, concern on his face. “Of course I do. Baby I lo-” Santi stopped himself, realizing what he was about you say. He had never said I love you, he never stayed around long enough to do more than play house or hook up. He had never seen a future with anyone before you, no one mattered like you did… love was a big word, but when he saw the look on your face as he almost said it, he knew he couldn’t take the look of disappointment if he backed out. He swallowed all his nerves, and spoke again, holding both your hands. “I love you. And I don’t know what kind of guys you have been around, but I want to spend time with you with or without sex. You are just… you are everything to me.”

You face back tears on this high emotion day, and nod your head frantically, smiling. “I love you too, Santi, so much” and kissed him, feeling significantly less humiliated and significantly more infatuated with him.

Santi spent the day taking care of you, downloading instacart just to order the supplements you needed and pizza rolls you said were essential. He cuddled up next to you, rubbing your bloated tummy and pretending not to hear when you got gas, and rubbing lotion on your lower back and stomach where you cramped, bringing out the heating pad he used when his back bothered him. When you went to bed that night, thoroughly impressed that he had gotten you overnight pads AND regular, you decidedly had kept space between the two of you.

“Baby?” Santi spoke as he turned off the lights. “It’s fine if you don’t feel like cuddling but-”

“I’m trying to not bleed on you again” you blurt out

Santi grabs you, making you squeal as he pulls you towards him “If getting blood on me is what it takes to fall asleep like this every night, I won’t hesitate to choose this”

***********

[mydekuacademia]

hi! this is an Emergency Request! i hope this okay to ask, but could i request Aizawa with a student reader whose entire family abused them physically/psychologically for most of their life and switched to just psychological abuse as they got older? Because of this they think they can't be a hero, they are afraid of bonding with anyone, and have started sleeping/eating much less and dread having to go home. And when dorm time rolls around they're scared their parents will refuse to let them go.

i hope this is okay! Thank you for taking the time to read my request!

I hope I'm not too late answering this! Also, sorry if this isnt written the best, im in the middle of a migraine

My dms are always open if you need to talk <3

Warning: child abuse (physical and psychological)

In Safe Hands

Some people love school - they get to see their friends, learn new things, etc. Some people hate school - they have to wake up early, be around people they hate, get told what to do, etc. But for you, school was your one and only safe haven.

Every day, you woke up to either furious screams or bruising blows. If you were lucky, your wakeup call was your threadbare blanket being torn off of you, but that was rare. After you woke up, you tried your best to tiptoe down the hallway to the bathroom once you were positive it was unoccupied. There, you would do your usual morning routine of showering and making yourself presentable. There wasn't much you could do about the bruises and welts littering your skin, but you always hoped everyone at school would assume they were from training. Nobody had questioned that excuse so far.

Little did you know, your homeroom teacher had been keeping an eye on you. He knew that your classmates hadn't hit you hard enough to leave marks that lasted more than a couple days. None of them gave you any reason to be sporting dark circles under your eyes. So he paid closer attention.

As the months passed by, you were physically injured less and less, but the mental torture escalated. Some days you were screamed at relentlessly for literal hours. Other days, your family acted as though you didn't exist - normally, that was a good thing, but now it just made you feel alone. You were gaslit, berated, taunted, and that was just the verbal aspect. Your family also worked to remove your sense of privacy and safety. They removed your bedroom door, forced you to take the lock off your phone and checked it regularly, set a strict curfew and locked you out if you missed it, and so on.

This all led you to become a different person. Your classmates all saw the change, even the ones you weren't particularly close to. You began to withdraw, not raising your hand in class or sitting with your friends at lunch, and eventually not eating lunch at all. You were unsteady in hero training, which resulted in easily lost matches and more frequent trips to Recovery Girl. You always hesitated when leaving the classroom at the end of the school day. People in Class B were even talking about seeing you asleep in empty classrooms during breaks.

Aizawa had more than enough reason to confront you, so he pulled you out of hero training one day and sat you down in the teachers' lounge with a cup of tea.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush," Aizawa started. "Something's going on. Your grades are dropping, you're not eating lunch, you aren't talking to your friends, you're falling asleep between classes. Care to explain?"

You froze, heart stuttering. You knew he meant well, you knew he would never do anything to hurt you, and yet you couldn't help but see the similarities between his inquiry and your family's interrogations. You trusted your teacher, but in that moment, he was yet another abuser.

Scalding tears filled your eyes and blurred your vision, reducing your teacher to a dark blob in front of you. You wanted to say something, but your throat locked up. Instead, you shook your head and wrapped your arms around yourself.

"You won't say?" he asked. You shook your head again. "Can't talk about it?" You nodded. "Alright, how about I ask some yes or no questions?" You nodded again.

"Are you having problems at home?"

You nodded.

"Are you safe at home?"

You shrugged.

"Does your family physically hurt you?"

You made a "sort of" motion with your hand. Tears trickled down your cheeks, and your chest ached.

"Okay, have they physically hurt you recently?"

You shook your head.

"Have they ever physically hurt you?"

Yes.

"Do they emotionally hurt you?"

Yes.

"Are you safe?"

Now, you didn't know how to respond to that. You didn't feel like your life was in danger, but you certainly didn't have a good quality of life.

At your pause, Aizawa changed tactics. "Do you need help?"

His heart absolutely broke at how desperate you looked when you frantically nodded at him. He already knew he would die for any of his students, but your reaction made him want to live for his students instead. Protecting them by taking a death blow in their stead was certainly one way to help, but he now knew he could do more by staying alive to advocate for them and intervene when necessary.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but I feel like this will give you some hope," he started. "Nezu has been considering building dorms for all students to live in. You can get out, you can be safe."

He expected your expression to lighten, even just a bit, but was surprised to see you fall further into despair. Your face dropped into your hands, and your shoulders trembled as though he had just placed a massive burden on them.

"But Aizawa-sensei," you whimpered. "They'll never let me go."

"What do you mean?"

Your head shot up again, staring him directly in the eye. "They- they won't let me leave! I'm stuck there!" Your breathing picked up. "That probably means I won't be able to continue going to school here. I should probably just drop out now. I'm not fit to be a hero-"

"(Y/n)," Aizawa interrupted. "You will not have to leave UA. If your parents contest you moving into the dorms, the school will take legal action using what you just told me. As it is, even if you are allowed to move, we will make sure they face consequences for their actions."

You peered up at him through wet eyelashes, trying not to give in to the spark of hope that was trying to take light in your heart. It was too good to be true, wasn't it?

"Also, you are more than fit to be a hero. The fact that you haven't given up is proof enough of that. No hero is expected to continue fighting after a traumatic experience until they're healed - the same goes for you."

You sat up further and unconsciously wiped the tears from your face.

"As your teacher and pro-hero Eraserhead, I promise you, at this school you're in safe hands."

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I See Queen Mab Hath Been With You

Eddie Munson x OC, Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader, Fluff, Shakespeare, Pining

Lucy Henderson Character Bio, Lucy's Tag in General

Summary: Eddie proves he paid more attention in English than he lets on. OR, how Lucy discovered Eddie reciting Shakespeare is really hot.

Warning: This contains the entirety of the Queen Mab speech from Romeo and Juliet

Based on anon request: I’m feeling ridiculously soft for Eddie and Lucy rn. Any drabbles or one shots about a soft moment during the craziness or before the craziness of season 4?

A/N: I literally came up with this yesterday. I couldn't help it, the theater nerd is strong with me.

Word Count: 1.8K

    “Bullshit.”

    “Scouts honor.”

    “You were never in the scouts.”

    “Well what else am I supposed to swear on?”

    Lucy rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. She had been doing it all night and was starting to get good at it. 

    It was late. Their movie had ended and Lucy had dared to take Eddie up on his suggestion to just walk for a while. It wasn’t an unusual request. They did it all the time, but spending so much time alone with him was proving treacherous.

    Her little crush hadn’t faded since the end of the semester and they were almost to July. It felt like it was getting worse. 

    She thought some distance would do her some good, but Eddie had called her out of the blue and she couldn’t think of a good excuse not to. They were still friends. She couldn’t avoid him forever. A movie seemed innocent enough; dark, limited talking, safe. She had even managed to pay attention to what was on screen for most of it. Even still, his occasional commentary in her ear drove her to distraction. She honestly couldn’t remember anything of what they had just seen by the time they walked out. 

    If she had any sense she would have made up some excuse about work in the morning, but then he smiled and she knew she’d do just about anything he asked. 

    He kept the conversation going for the first stretch and eventually Lucy was able to relax enough to answer back. Nothing had changed. Eddie was still Eddie. She just had to remind herself of that and not get herself into a tizzy over a laugh or a look. 

    They had even managed to move past the subject of the movie to, of all things, Shakespeare. Somewhere in their rambles Lucy grumbled about wishing she could rent an apartment for three months to do summer stock in a big city or even just Shakespeare in the park. This prompted Eddie to make a rather bold claim pertaining to Mercutio and Queen Mab.   

    “Why would you even try to memorize the Queen Mab speech?” Lucy protested. 

    He shrugged. “It’s cool. I mean the rest of the play is gooey, lovey dovey shlock, but all the Mercutio stuff is awesome. Besides, I needed the extra credit.”

    “So you just up and performed in front of the entire class for a couple extra points?”

    He scoffed. “Please, if I did that my reputation would never recover. Mr. Kennedy just let me do it at lunch.” 

    Lucy’s lips pressed into a line. Mr. Kennedy was known for being one of the more reasonable teachers at Hawkins. She could see him offering to let Eddie perform privately if he felt like Eddie was otherwise putting in the effort. Still, she couldn’t help feeling like he was pulling her leg.

    Eddie caught her skeptical expression. “You don’t believe me.” 

    “I just don’t see it,” she admitted. 

    He nodded, his brows creasing in deep thought. It only took him a moment to come to a decision. “Okay.” 

    He took two long strides ahead before jumping up on a bench in front of an empty store front. He cleared his throat, placing a hand over his heart. 

    “I, Edward Munson, shall perform Shakespeare’s Queen Mab for the judgment and viewing pleasure of this illustrious audience,” he announced in the most obnoxious British accent he could muster as he gestured to the non-existent crowd. 

    Lucy let out a laugh, which only encouraged him.

    “Now I shall require some audience participation,” he said, peering down at her with a scrupulous eye, “assuming the audience has the play memorized as well.”

    “We do,” she assured. 

    “Excellent,” he grinned, dropping the accent while he was at it. “Now, let me see, how does it start?" He tapped his chin. "Romeo says, 'I dreampt a dream tonight'. Mercutio, 'And so did I'."

    Lucy smiled. "Well, what was yours?"

    Eddie grinned and something else seemed to shift inside him, like the turning of a dial. She'd seen it a handful of times when a campaign took on a particularly dramatic turn. A sudden tremble of anticipation shot through her.

    "That dreamers often lie," he answered.

    "In bed asleep while they do dream things true," she replied.

    "O," he crouched down, meeting her straight in the eye, "then I see Queen Mab hath been with you."

    He leaned in, his eyes glimmering with an unbalanced glee. “She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes, in shape no bigger than an agate-stone,” he raised his finger waving it in front of her eyes, “on the fore-finger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomies, athwart men's noses as they lie asleep.”

    Ever so slowly he began to rise, his hands and arms animating every line.

    “Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, the cover of the wings of grasshoppers, the traces of the smallest spider's web, the collars of the moonshine's watery beams, her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, not so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love.”

    He drawled out the final word mockingly as he once again turned his attention toward her, sinking down to her level. 

     “O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,” he continued, pointing to her knees. “O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,” he took her hand, pinching the ends of her fingers.  “O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,” he brushed her lips, or, at least, came close enough the air of his movements tickled her skin. 

    Lucy could feel her cheeks heat at the gesture. She thought he might stop to comment, but he didn’t break his stride as his expression kept up that half crazed smile.  

    “Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.” He straightened up, waving his hand in front of his nose as if offended by the smell.

    “Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,” he went on, now using his own body as demonstration. “And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; and sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, then dreams, he of another benefice: sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, and then dreams he of cutting foreign throats.”

    He clutched his neck and Lucy felt something else change. Still in character, but the glee was gone, replaced with a menace that made her spine straighten. 

    “Of breaches,” he continued, “ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear,” he slammed his hand behind him making the glass of the storefront vibrate, “at which he starts and wakes, and being thus frighted swears a prayer or two and sleeps again.” 

    His eyes widened, his body like a live wire as if about the fall of the edge. 

    “This is that very Mab, that plats the manes of horses in the night, and bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, which once untangled, much misfortune bodes,” he shouted. “This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, making them women of good carriage: This is she—” 

    "Peace, peace,” Lucy interjected, grabbing his hand. She didn’t know how she remembered the line, but was grateful she did. It would all feel a waste if she didn’t. “Mercutio, peace. Thou talk'st of nothing."

    "True,” he admitted, as if suddenly allowed to breathe again. He jumped down from the bench, never letting go of her hand as he looked down into her eyes. “I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air, and more inconstant than the wind, who woos, even now the frozen bosom of the north, and, being angered, puffs away from thence, turning his side to the dew-dropping South."

    A silence fell then, not that Lucy notice for the thundering of her heart in her ears. She felt like her whole body was shaking. He really needed to stop looking at her like that. 

    Suddenly he looked away and up to the ceiling. 

    "I think it's Benvolio after that," he said, speculatively. 

    "Yeah," Lucy said, breathlessly. "I think you're right."

    Eddie looked back down. Mercutio was gone and he was back to his usual teasing self. "Good?"

    "Good?" she repeated. "Eddie, that was…holy shit!”

    She covered her mouth with her hands in some vain attempt to hide her smile and surely obvious blush.  

    She could say a lot of things to say about his impromptu performance; amazing, transcendent, mind blowing, but the one she kept coming back to was hot.  It was very, very hot. She couldn’t for the life of her explain why, but it was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen him do. 

    This was worse than when he ran lines with her for As You Like It.  New rule going forward, never let Eddie Munson perform Shakespeare. It was bad for her health.

    It didn’t help that he was grinning at her now with the most adorably proud expression. 

    “Think I earned that extra credit then?” he teased.

    “I think you deserve a full ride to Julliard.”

    He laughed. She couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn his cheeks were slightly pink. 

    “Seriously, that was incredible,” she continued. “Why haven’t you auditioned before? You would be amazing.” 

    He waved her off. “Oh c’mon Henderson, you know the rules. Seniors take priority. If I join now they’d have to commit to a one man show. Wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.” 

    “You should still give it a shot,” she insisted. “I think you’d fit right in.” 

“Yeah?”

    Lucy felt her stomach flip. The look in those beautiful brown eyes was so soft it made her melt. This was why she had been avoiding him. All it took was one innocent look and she was a goner. How did people handle this? 

    “Yeah,” she said, glancing away. “I mean, unless you’re still worried about your reputation.” 

    He snorted, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he pushed them both forward. 

    “How about this, after you’ve made your spectacular Broadway debut and if I’m not busy performing at The Garden, drop me a line. I’d be happy to do a reading.” 

    She nodded along.  “You’ll be my first call.” 

    They continued on like that for a little while, speaking of dreams as if they would someday be reality.  Lucy hoped they would and that maybe, someday, she’d be able to tell Eddie exactly how he fit into hers.

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 2)

word count: 32k

angst, fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(part 1) (series masterlist)

you walked into the coffee shop downtown right at 4 pm., your eyes scanning the nearly empty building for the familiar head of dark hair. 

and that’s when you saw him in the corner, typing away on his laptop with a quirked eyebrow, cup of coffee next to him and his black tie loosely hung in his shirt.

he looked exhausted and stressed but so utterly sexy, you could’ve died right then and there - had you not been an anxious, confused, nervous wreck upon concluding park seonghwa was the one who dropped $10,000 on you.

it took you about a week to build up the courage to finally get to the bottom of it, wracking your brain for any and every possibility of who would’ve paid a college tuition with no qualms. 

you knew it certainly wasn’t your parents or the school, both of those options being people who, at the end of the day, didn’t care about you. 

it wasn’t any outside family or the aunts and uncles you were close with, barely having enough money to support their own children’s education.

and it certainly wasn’t eunbi, because as invasive and insane as she is, she would’ve never done that without your permission - but would her father have? would he really drop that kind of money on you, even if it was just chump change to him?

“our graduation party is gonna be ah-mazing!” eunbi celebrated on the first day of classes, the two of you getting ready for your separate 9 am classes together.

“we should honestly start planning it now! the venue, the guest list, the food. oh em gee or we could go away! would you wanna go somewhere crazy and fun? like a destination wedding but a destination graduation party! ooh what about-”

you couldn’t even pay attention to your roommate blabbering on and on about countries you’d never heard of or venues you couldn’t afford, your mind constantly wondering why the hell mr. park would’ve done this for you. 

it wasn’t even like a part of you was upset or angry, it was all just very... shocking. and slightly embarrassing; you would’ve never asked or expected anyone to pay for your education, so why the hell did he do it so secretly? 

did he think you were gonna say no? because he’s absolutely right, you would’ve said no. 

it was on the 4th day of classes that you knew you needed to get an answer from him - both because your mind wouldn’t stop and eunbi was getting suspicious of your withdrawn, occupied demeanor. 

so while your roommate took a long shower after her thursday night kick boxing class, you were the ultimate snoop. 

went through her phone to get her father’s number and quickly saved it under mr. park, staring at the contact name before, finally, after a few more days, you had the balls to call him.

you made sure to wait until eunbi’s double class, alone in the apartment until early afternoon, to call him. hold your breath as you press the call button and feel nervous jitters all throughout your body.

he answered after a few rings, his deep “hello?” nearly causing you to hang up.

“hello?” he repeats, silence on the other end of the phone with an unsaved number. 

you let out a shaky exhale, your stuttered “h-hi mr. park, it’s y/n. eunbi’s roommate,” sounded nervous and awkward even to your own ears.

his chuckle on the other end was deep and melodic, just the familiar but distant sound of it causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach - is it crazy to think that you’ve missed it?

“of course i know who you are, y/n,” he says, the ghost of a smile lighting up in his face. “i wasn’t aware you had my number.”

you bite down on your lip at the slight teasing in his voice, able to just picture the shit eating smirk on his face.

“i got it from eunbi,” you say, since it’s technically not a lie. “because... i... i wanted to ask you something kind of weird,” you breathe out, feeling panic and discomfort heighten throughout your body. 

you really didn’t think this through despite the way it’s been on your mind for days - it’s gonna be horribly embarrassing if he wasn’t the one.

“i don’t know why you would do this but there is literally no one else i could think who would  and i just need to-”

“yes. i paid your tuition.”

breath catches in the back of your throat as your suspicions are proven true, a few moments of silence between you two as your thoughts race.

you wondering why he did; if maybe, perhaps, eunbi did ask him and he was just making his daughter happy - but if that wasn’t the case, then that means he wanted to do it for you.

he’s wondering if you’re gonna be furious or creeped out or a mixture of both, tell him how inappropriate and overstepping that is of a man she doesn’t know that well to be paying that sort of money. 

“y/n?” he hums when he can’t take the silence anymore, your tongue peeking out to wipe at your dry lips. “you there?”

“y-yes, mr. park i’m just... a little shocked. and surprised. why... why did you-?”

“are you available to meet with me sometime this week?”

and that’s how you ended up here, watching him with curious eyes and a building hunger that seems to happen in his presence. 

as if he can feel your gaze on him, staring dumbly and blankly in the middle of the coffee shop, he looks up and immediately finds you. sends a small smile your way as he stands and gestures for you to come over. 

your foot steps are slow and meticulous, far too dramatic of a girl who watched this man jerk off or pictured him fucking you over his office desk. but you can’t stop the pounding in your chest, throat tightening and knees wobbling once you finally make your way to the table. 

thank god this place is empty, you can only imagine how sketchy this looks - or maybe that’s just you projecting your own feelings about the situation. 

“hi, mr park,” you say quietly, voice barely above a whisper as he pulls out a chair for you. 

“hi, y/n,” he remarks back, waiting expectantly for you to take a seat.

it takes you a few moments the same way he did when he opened the car door for you, your eyes roaming him before you plop down with a quiet “thank you.” 

he smiles softly, admiring your pretty face and pastel sweater. the color against your smooth skin and hair, he can’t help but look a few seconds too long. 

he takes his seat across from you with the confidence you just don’t have in this moment, the two of you in a silent stare off before you both begin to speak. 

“i wanted to-”

“so you’re probably wondering-”

both of you stop talking, a smirk on his lips and a blush on your cheeks as you shake your head.

“you first.”

“no, go on,” seonghwa mumbles, looking at the empty space in front of you before his eyebrows pull together. “do you want anything? some coffee maybe?”

“oh, no thank you, i’m good,” you mutter, a nervous smile on your face before you meet his gaze. 

dark eyes watching you and his business attire making your heart squeeze in your chest; his lips are pulled into the smallest of smiles, it’s like he knows you’re about to pass out before him.

“i just wanted to thank you mr. park, really, there was no reason for you to pay for me. i... i actually don’t know why you did, if i’m being completely honest, but i’m really grateful,” you ramble, your eyes flicking from him to the wall behind him to the photos across the small, homey coffee shop.

“i promise i’ll pay it back to you. i’ll get a job during the semester and save up. i swear that i’m gonna-”

“i don’t want you to pay me back. it’s not necessary.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, assuming the moment you figured out he did this that he was gonna say that. but it doesn’t feel right to you, it doesn’t feel right to skirt by scott free while someone else spends their hard earned money on you. 

“mr. park, i can’t allow you to do that. please, at least let me pay you back-”

“call me seonghwa.”

you look up from your tangled hands, your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you see his eyes on you. watching you so carefully, with such a soft, glinted look on his face, you really don’t know how to respond besides saying

“what?”

a smirk pulls at his lips, long fingers catching his coffee cup as he brings it to his lips. he doesn’t break eye contact as he sips from the plastic, licking the excess off his lips and causing your heart to jump.

mr par- seonghwa, is out to kill you. 

“i think we’re past of the point of the mr. park formality, don’t you think?” he asks with a smirk. “unless you don’t feel comfortable.”

“n-no, it’s fine mr. par- seonghwa,” you say, a bright, handsome smile pulling at his lips at your response. “i’m just not used to it.”

he nods as silence overcomes you both, your eyes still questioning and unsure - he knows you probably have a ton more questions. 

he was surprised that he didn’t either when he first contemplated this. 

how he so simply just made the decision the night he heard your scholarship was at stake, right there in his kitchen when you guys had your last moment alone together.

“eunbi and my wife don’t know i paid it,” he says honestly, not wanting to start out your relationship (if there comes to be any) on a lie; because even if nothing comes of this, if the past month was just sneaky flirting and some excitement in his boring life, it won’t matter. 

you’re still a good friend to his daughter and someone who deserves to continue their education.

“would they be mad?” you can’t help but ask, your stomach sinking at the thought of you creating a strain between eunbi and her father. “i... wouldn’t want this to get you in trouble.”

“i can’t get in trouble, y/n,” he smiles, cocking his head to the side as he sits back in his chair - it gives you a perfect view of his broad shoulders and thin torso, totally not something you need in this serious conversation. 

“it’s my money and i’ll do whatever i want with it. my daughter nor my wife get a say, although i cant imagine eunbi would be mad. i’m surprised she didn’t ask to be honest with you.”

“she probably knew i would’ve never accepted.”

his eyebrow quirks and you immediately flush, feeling as if the outburst was rude and ungrateful - but it’s just the honest truth. you would’ve never accepted this if he or eunbi asked.

“i kind of figured that too, which is why i went ahead and just did it. pardon me for that, y/n, i’m sorry again if i overstepped.”

you shake your head immediately, rambling out that you’re more grateful than anything, just surprised and feeling slightly guilty. 

“i also just... i don’t see what you gain from this?” you confess, confusion evident in your soft, quiet tone. “that was a lot of money, seonghwa.”

he can’t help the feeling that rises in him hearing you call him seonghwa with ease, never thinking anything would get him more riled up than mr park.

but it just flowed off your tongue with such ease, your voice all kinds of soft and alluring, he wants to hear it over and over again. particularly with you under him and naked.

“you’re eunbi’s best friend, y/n, and you’ve been there for her since you girls started together,” he begins, one of the many truthful reasons he decided to go through with this. 

“it would’ve been such a shame for you to take off before your last semester. what if there was a problem with internships? or you couldn’t get the money or find a job in time?” he asks, circumstances that were certainly possible in this economy.  

“now you can just finish all the way through, with no breaks, and have that combined graduation party, so, really, everyone wins. i don’t have to sue the college per eunbi’s request, she has her friend and you’ll have your degree in a few months.”

a giggle leaves your mouth as some of your nervousness and unease is lifted, cocking your head to the side as you look at him. 

you knew this man was nice, probably the nicest man you’ve ever encountered in your life, but this is gonna prove to be detrimental to your mental state.

his looks, his kindness and the way you swear moments between you two were so real and reciprocated. 

“i can’t thank you enough, seonghwa, i really can’t,” you say, finally feeling some relief flood throughout your body. “and... it’ll stay between us. i told eunbi the department got my scholarship to go through.”

“see, i knew you were a smart girl,” he remarks, his voice dropped and lips quirked into a smirk. “you got all the classes you need?”

you nod dumbly, unsure if you’d be able to speak after his first comment of praise. it brought a visible flush to your cheeks, his desire to reach out and cup your warm skin far too strong.

“good. then work hard, y/n. i know you’ll be able to do it.”

it’s all the praise and reassurance you never got from anyone in your life, not being able to help the foreign feeling in your chest of wanting to make someone proud. 

“thank you, seonghwa,” you smile, feeling warm and flushed but not caring in this moment.

“of course, y/n,” he responds, his eyes latched onto you so intensely, it’s like he forgot, for a split second, you two are in public. 

because if any nosy bystanders thought at first that this was some sort of business meeting or professional lunch, it can clearly been seen now that it’s not. 

not with the way he’s looking at you or the smile you’re giving him.

not with the way both your feet are bumping and toying at each other unknowingly, a juvenile game of footsie two adults don’t even realize is happening.  

and certainly not with your last parting comments, a coy look coming over you once all your reservations and guilt are gone. leaning in closer and asking him if he’s sure there’s no way you can repay him.

“even if i give you half the money or a quarter of it,” you say with a pout, “just something.”

“i told you it’s not necessary, y/n,” he hums lowly, his voice dropped as he, too, allows himself to place his elbows on the table and lean in. 

“there must be something i can do, seonghwa. it doesn’t feel completely right taking and not... giving anything.”

and that right there was the sentence that sealed his fate with you, made him positive that, even though it was wrong and forbidden, he wanted you in every single way.

he wanted you under him and beside him and to give you the life you never had, even if you’re currently rejecting it so vehemently.

“i’m sure i can think of something, y/n. let’s just... be patient and see, yeah?” he hums, your eyes widening and heart pounding as a handsome, devilish smirk crosses his face. 

“maybe something will come up.”

there was no way to predict that, just a month later, you’d be seeing seonghwa again. 

you just knew the moment you strolled in from your friday afternoon class, excited to fall into bed and binge watch reality tv, that eunbi was out to cause chaos. 

and in turn, that would end up fucking you over completely.

“oh no, no, no. absolutely not, no!” she squeals when she sees you laying down, her voice high and piercing, you’re surprised the windows didn’t shatter. 

“we’re going out tonight and getting shit faced! jiwoon and co are meeting us so get up and get ready, bitch.”

“eunbi, i really do not feel like-”

“la la la la la la la,” the girl responds immaturely, her hands over her ears as she charges out of your room and toward the bathroom to shower. 

“don’t use all the hot water!” you yell after her, letting out a sigh as you drag yourself out of bed.

it takes you all of fifteen minutes to put an outfit together, tight jeans you know make your waist look thinner and ass look bigger, a long-sleeved top that accentuates your cleavage to the most severe degree and high black boots that eunbi gifted you for your birthday last year. 

dressing up makes the undesirable prospect of going out less trying, modeling your outfit in the mirror before eunbi bursts in with a towel wrapped around her body. 

“can i borrow that shirt you wore to-” the words halt the moment she sees you, eyes raking your body before they land on your boots. an excited squeal leaves her mouth when she sees you wearing your gift, never having seen you in them before. 

“okay hot girl, i see you. your silly little shy girl act,” she says, opening your closet like she owns the place. 

“you wanna go out looking like that to break hearts and practice those grinding skills. and danny’s coming, as you know, this is gonna be so good.”

“i’m still not interested in danny,” you hum lowly, even more so now that seonghwa is confirmed some of your most intense, deeply fulfilling thoughts. 

it felt sick to you that you actually missed him, yearned to see him and talk to him more and feel the buzzing sexual tension that makes you warm to the touch and your underwear to grow wet. 

you gotta watch your alcohol intake tonight, for if you get too shit faced, you might just confess to eunbi how much you like and wanna bang her father. 

“i know you’re not, i know you’re not, don’t worry,” eunbi says, snatching the pink shirt from your closet with a content smile. 

“it’ll just be fun for you to... flirt shamelessly. maybe just go home with him for the fun of it. have him tuck you in and maybe place a goodnight kiss on your-

“shut your mouth,” you interrupt with a snort, watching her run off with a melodic giggle as you push down your feelings of guilt. 

luckily though, a few hours into the night, with the more shots you do and drinks you have, that guilt dissipates. 

there’s a still a lingering feeling in your mind that your little... thing with seonghwa isn’t right. that you’re not only betraying eunbi but having these thoughts and moments with a married man. 

but your own selfish feelings take over when the alcohol hits.

your own desires and wants and needs and the very fact that, if you and seonghwa are sharing these mutual feelings, who’s to stop either of you? 

mrs. park seems to have her very own life with no regard for her husband, who is she to butt into seonghwa’s life and make him even more miserable?

“i-if you give me one more shot bi, i’m gonna vomit all over the place.”

“you can vomit on danny, i-i bet he’d shit his pants to have any of your fluids on him. even vomit.”

“oh, my god eunbi,” the man grumbles, looking to jiwoon who’s suppressing a shit eating smirk. “control your woman.”

“you’re just mad she’s exposing you.”

“i don’t want y/n to puke on me!”

you can’t help but chuckle, looking to danny who throws you an embarrassed, soft smile. 

“its okay. i know you don’t. and i def-definitely won’t,” you hiccup, the apprehensive look he throws you making it seem like he totally thinks you’re about to vomit on him.

eunbi grabs you by your hand when your song comes on, whitney houston blaring through the bar speakers. your arms are flailing and hips are moving, completely uncoordinated and embarrassing but the two of you too drunk to care. 

it was the fun you didn’t know you needed, swamped by your last semester classes and prospects of finding a job in just a few short months; you know the time is gonna come fast, leave you slightly panicking as you realize you and eunbi will have to move out of your apartment.

go your separate ways as she moves in with jiwoon to an area you certainly won’t be able to afford, so you couldn’t even be neighbors if you wanted to.

but maybe you could save up enough money to travel with her. build up your portfolio as seonghwa suggested and maybe try to offer your services abroad for any destination weddings. 

for now, though, you’re just gonna dance and drink and go to bed with your thoughts of seonghwa. wonder about the next time you can see him and slightly wish that anything would happen between the both of you. 

you and eunbi don’t stop until you’re dripping sweat and parched, sauntering back over to the bar where the boys are drinking and talking loudly.

it’s not hard to miss the interactions between jiwoon and eunbi, her body curled into his as he mumbles in her ear and she giggles against him. 

he wipes at the sweaty strands sticking to her hair, such a public display of soft, genuine affection that makes your heart pull in your chest. 

“i... i think i’m gonna go to his place tonight,” she mumbled to you a few moments later, a frown on her face as she looks up at you. “is that good? will you be okay home alone? i’m gonna call you an uber.”

“of course i will eunbi, don’t be silly,” you chuckle, “and i can call my own uber, don’t you dare.”

she narrows her eyes at you but puts her phone away, telling you to text her the moment you get home. 

you see her and jiwoon off when everyone’s done with their drinks, you, danny and the other friends lingering outside as you make small talk; it’s a shame you’re so infatuated with an older man - as far as nice guys go, danny is definitely one of them.

because once their uber got there, leaving you alone outside the crowded bar, he adamantly refused to leave. told you he would wait for your car to get here and call a new one for himself.

“don’t be ridiculous, that-that’s so wasteful, danny. it’s already here, just go!” you pull out your phone and show him the app, indicating that your driver is only twelve minutes away. 

he was reluctant in leaving but eventually agreed, only because you all but pushed him inside the uber. 

you watched the car drive off with a soft smile, not at all feeling unsafe given the dozens of people outside and two giant bouncers - you felt unsafe with your thoughts though, the way your mind continued to linger on seonghwa in your drunken state.

how handsome he is, how kind he is, how grateful you are to him that he paid your tuition. everything about him just makes you like him more and more, it’s like you lose all sense when you think of him.

and, given your drunken state, that’s incredibly dangerous - because you have not a single qualm as you scroll through your contacts and find his name, pressing the call button despite it being almost two in the morning. 

you don’t know if you were more shocked that you did it with ease, hearing the ringing in your ear, or the fact that, a few seconds later, his deep “hello?” is right in your ear.

“oh-oh my god, you answered!” 

you certainly didn’t plan for this. 

his low chuckle already causes the butterflies to erupt, biting down on your lip as you hear his low voice speak to you. 

“of course i answered. it’s you, isn’t it?”

his flirty tone renders even your drunken, bold self clueless, mouth open with the hopes to say something but falling incredibly flat; it’s silent for about twenty seconds before he speaks again, a smirk permanently glued to his face. 

“but is there a certain reason you called, y/n? it’s pretty late, you know. i’m an old man. i need my sleep.”

“you are not old,” you whine immediately, the sound of it causing another deep chuckle to leave him. “you... don’t even look old, you know.”

“oh no?”

“no. you’re hot. which is kind of crazy because you’re eunbi’s dad but like... you’re hotter than college guys. a total dilf! and you’re so nice too, mr par... seonghwa. sorry, you want me to call you seonghwa. you- you even paid for my tuition!”

“i did,” he smiles, forgetting the work at his desk as he sits back in his office chair. “how’s that going for you, miss y/n?”

your stomach flutters at the sound of his voice, a smile pulling at your lips. 

“it’s... it’s really good, thanks to you. i still wanna make it up to you, you know.”

he’s not ignorant to the slur in your voice or the way you’re incredibly shit faced and brazen right now, licking over his lips as he does something he probably shouldn’t but definitely won’t regret. 

“maybe you can,” he hums, looking down at his ringless fingers. “how ‘bout you tell me where you are right now? are you alone?”

“i... yes,” you mumble, excitement buzzing your veins at the thought of seeing him again. “eunbi is staying at jiwoon’s tonight. i’m waiting for my u-uber.”

“cancel it and send me your location.”

your breath catches in your throat, your heart starting to race as you feel yourself getting more and more excited. it’s a nervous kind of excited but excited nonetheless, hoping and praying your drunken self acts right.

“did you hear me?”

your heart jumps at the tone of his voice, just being able to hear his smile on the other side of the phone.

“i.. yes, mr. park. i’ll do that right away.”

he lets out a low growl that causes your stomach to swoop, biting back a little whine that would be entirely inappropriate for this public setting.

“good girl. i’ll see you in a little bit.”

it’s the good girl that almost makes your wobbly knees cave in on you, scrambling to send him your correct location. he responds with a curt “be there in twenty,” not having the capability to wonder how he’s gonna get here so fast. 

but that doesn’t matter to you in the slightest, rushing back into the bar bathroom to fix your hair and check your makeup. your eyeliner’s slightly runny but it’s nothing a tissue doesn’t fix, deeming yourself appropriate enough before waiting back outside.

there’s a chill in the air but the alcohol coursing through your body doesn’t make it so bad, completely unaware to just how freezing your hands are. 

you see a familiar black mercedes pull up in front of you, breath catching in your throat when none other than park seonghwa comes out and walks around the front. 

he smiles upon seeing you, opening your door and telling you to get in. 

you can feel all the nosy, curious eyes on you, the guys checking out his car while women check out him. but you stumble in without a care in the world, thanking him playfully before plopping down onto the seat.

the car is warm and smells like him, watching from the windshield as he walks around the car. 

he’s dressed in his work clothes and a black peacoat, looking as every bit as sophisticated and mature the way you know he is - just looking like a man, really, something you were utterly robbed of tonight. 

“hi.”

“hi.”

he smiles as he pulls into the road, the address to your apartment already in the gps as he makes his way over. 

“how was your night?” he asks, looking over your flushed face before zoning in on your cold, red hands. “y/n, your hands. why didn’t you wear a heavier jacket?”

“because i looked hot in this shirt,” you answer honestly, blaming eunbi for hyping you up about 400 times before you left.

he lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes roaming your chest and torso as he can’t help but notice your cleavage. can’t argue there, he thinks in his head, a smirk pulling at his lips as he looks to the road.

“oh yeah?”

“y-yeah. why? you don’t think?”

he bites the inside of his cheek as he continues to drive, feeling your wide-eyed stare on his face. he can’t even think about looking at you right now, not trusting himself or you in this moment.

“you don’t wanna know what i think,” he mumbles, his one hand on the wheel while the other toys with the heat controls. “put your hands by the vent.”

you oblige without hesitation, a content hum leaving your mouth as you realize just how freezing you are. the vents warm your whole body, bones relaxing and temperature rising, when it hits you just how exhausted you are. 

alcohol and a night of drinking always makes you tired on top of the fact you woke up early for your classes today. 

“i’m tired,” you whine to seonghwa, the tone in your voice one he’s never heard from you before.

he can’t help but enjoy it, seeing this new side to you as he looks over you with a smirk. 

“i know you are,” he says, doing everything in his power not to let out a chuckle. “that’s why i’m bringing you home.”

“thank you, seonghwa,” you mumble, leaning your head on the dashboard as your eyes grow heavy. 

he can hear your soft breathing as you stay hunched over on his dashboard, making sure to break lightly and make steady, slow turns so you don’t topple over. 

the beeping of your seatbelt being off is about to drive him insane but he doesn’t wanna wake you, knowing there’s only a few more minutes until he’ll be at your apartment and need to wake you up again.

he doesn’t know if your flirtiness or cute tiredness is worse for him in this moment, both of them making him wanna pull you into him and do things he shouldn’t even be considering. 

but he supposes it’s too late now, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment and turning off his car. he takes a few seconds to look over your sleeping form, your head craned uncomfortably on the dashboard. 

his hand reaches out to run through your hair gently, eyes fluttering and a tiny, tired moan leaving your mouth. 

“y/n...” he says softly, lips quirking when you continue to stir on the warm, hard surface. “we’re home.”

he doesn’t miss the way his heart twinges, something that feels delusional and wrong as he pictures this being a constant in his life.

seeing you more and helping you in these moments.

ushering you into a safe space and making sure he puts you to bed himself. being able to look at you alone, where there are no prying, judging eyes or family members to be caught by. 

“what?” you whine tiredly, your eyes popping open to see seonghwa staring at you. 

“hi,” he smiles, his face alone causing your drunken body to buzz happily; you don’t even feel the blush creeping on your face nor the way your tired, sleepy face lights up.

“seonghwa,” you squeak excitedly, perking up the slightest bit as you look over at him. 

“did you forget i was here?” he chuckles, “you were only sleeping for five minutes.”

“i know but i’m soooo tired, mr. park,” you whine, warm and cozy in his extremely comfortable car; you think you could peacefully sleep here many nights, if he’d allow it. 

“your car is super comfy, you know. it’s prob-probably more comfy than my bed.”

“i doubt that.”

“you wanna find out?” you giggle flirtily, throwing him a playful, uncharacteristic wink before ripping open your door and stumbling out. 

he’s quick in his movements to turn off the car and open his door, following you before you can brave the flight of stairs and risk cracking your head open.

even in your tipsy state, probably even more so due to it, your heart reacts when you feel his hand grab your wrist. firm but gentle as he pulls you into him, your back against his towering front as you begin to feel warm in the cold febuary weather. 

“you gotta wait for me,” he mumbles, his lips brushing the tip of your ear. he can’t help the way his other hand lingers on your hip, his cold hand on the warm skin of your stomach like electric. 

“we don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

you bite down on your lip as his breath fans against your ear, dipping your head back so it rests on his broad chest. the slightest part of you wants to let out a little whine, finally back and comfortable in his embrace after not feeling him against you for so long.

“n-no we don’t, mr. park,” you hiccup, hoping to maybe just feel his groin harden against your ass again; the whine escapes your lips without your knowledge now as you reminisce, all the secret and forbidden moments you two shared back at his house during winter break flooding back with a vengence.

“remember when you did this in your backyard?” you mumble, your head dipped back just enough for him to see you roll your lower lip into your mouth. “that’s... that’s what we-we both knew. i felt it.”

he swears he’s about to fold right there, push you against the concrete wall and take you right there against it. hard and fast and dirty, in public for security cameras to see. 

but there’s a lot of reasons he shouldn’t do that, the first being you’re intoxicated and probably couldn’t stand straight, for if your body wasn’t completely pressed up and melted against him. 

he thinks he can get away with playing though, matching your flirtiness and teasing and hoping that, tomorrow, you just don’t remember how into this he really was. 

“oh yeah, what’d we both know?” he mumbles, the smirk on his face hidden in your hair. “please enlighten me, y/n.”

he’s not prepared for when you turn around and look him in the face, standing there all glossy-eyed and pink cheeked, a coy smile on your face as he look up at him with all the lust and desire in the world. 

“your cock, mr park,” you whisper, a bright, teasing smile lighting up your face. 

your tongue clicks off the roof of your mouth when you press your teeth down on your lip, his pants tightening the same way they always do when he sees you. 

“i felt your cock, because you pushed it against me,” you hum, finger trailing up and down his white shirt teasingly. 

“i t-thought it was in my head, that you wanted me back, you know. but i r-really think you do. either that, or i’m truly fucking crazy.”

“you’re not crazy,” is all he can assure right now - because all his other thoughts, everything else he wants to say is extremely x-rated and it’s not the time or place. 

even in your drunken state, he sees recognition cross your face. your eyes widening and smile faltering, like all your innermost beliefs and feelings are officially confirmed in front of your very eyes. 

“does.... does that mean...?” you begin to ask, but he only puts a finger to your mouth, the actual touch of his skin on your lips causing your stomach to swoop dangerously. 

“let’s get you to bed.”

and what seonghwa says, goes. 

he ushers you up to your apartment carefully, sending you off to your room to change into pajamas while he gets you water. he rummages through the cabinets until he finds glasses and advil for tomorrow morning, setting it up on a little tray before standing outside your door.

a familiar feeling of protectiveness and fear runs through him when you don’t respond to him calling your name, peeking inside to see your room empty but clothes in a ball. 

he can’t help but smirk as he makes his way inside, placing down your water and folding your clothes over your desk chair.

your room is clean apart from the disaster of clothes littering your desk, everything in it’s place but still feeling homey and sweet. nothing looks too expensive or like it should belong in a showroom, one of the few things that he doesn’t like about his own lifestyle. 

how nothing ever looks lived in. how it doesn’t seem like memories were made there, because everything’s spotless and clean and new. 

but he can see it all over your room. 

small things that must have personal value because it’d be junk otherwise. sentimental things you keep close to your bedside or on the shelves above your desk. 

even the little statue on your tv shelf, that he faintly remembers seeing in the streets of-

a loud crash causes him to jump immediately, rushing down the hall and into the bathroom to see you sat there on the toilet seat with a brush tangled in your hair. 

he has to fight back the smile threatening to form on his lips, leaning his head against the doorway as you look at him with half guilt and half annoyance. 

“what happened here?”

“i couldn’t find it because eunbi didn’t put it back in the right drawer,” you whine tiredly, “and then she left the straightener on the floor and i tripped.”

he nods his head as he makes his way over to you, taking the brush gently from your hair and smoothing down the pieces with his fingers. you watch as his eyes roam over your face, seeing so much of him up close that you can conclude, yet again, this man doesn’t have single a wrinkle or flaw. 

“you’re handsome.”

he’s almost embarrassed by the way his heart flutters in his chest like a lovesick middle schooler, letting out an awkward chuckle as he feels a foreign blush makes its way on his face.

he can’t remember the last time someone outright complimented him like that, with a softness in their eyes and genuineness in their voice.

“thank you, y/n,” he chuckles out softly, keeping his hand on your knee so you don’t try and get up. he uses the other to rummage under the sink, pulling out a bottle of water he’s seen eunbi use to wipe off makeup in the morning. 

“what are you doing?” you ask him quietly, before a playful smirk crosses your face. “the condoms aren’t in there, silly.”

his loud chuckle causes you to giggle, even more so when he shoots a chastising look your way. 

he doesn’t say anything as he dabs a cotton pad with makeup remover, staying kneeled between your legs as he tells you to close your eyes. 

he wipes off your face with gentle, delicate strokes, removing all your eye makeup before moving down to your pink, glossy lips. you stick your tongue out in disgust when the wetness is over your mouth, thrashing slightly in his hold before his deep voice mumbles, “relax.”

you would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t slumping back tiredly, watching him throw the dirty pads in the garbage. 

he looks to see you watching him with half opened eyes, softly smiling as he gently helps you up. you let out a tired moan as you move yourself into him, muttering unintelligible words on your way to your room.

he pulls back your comforter just as you plop in, letting out a content sigh as you roll on your side and bury yourself under the cold covers. the smile never leaves his face as he tucks you in further, long fingers moving your hair behind your ears before you peek up at him. 

“th-thank you for getting me home, seonghwa,” you thank quietly, “a-and paying my tuition. i’m gonna pay you back somehow, i swear.”

he bits down on his lip so he doesn’t laugh, simply nodding his head as he mutters a quiet “you’re welcome, y/n.”

“stay with me until i fall asleep please,” you mumble, even though just a few seconds later, your eyes close, your breaths turn even and you’re sleeping soundly in your bed. 

he stills stay for a few moments though, his heart twisting at the sight of your face and watching the calming rise and fall of your chest. 

he can’t stop himself from placing a quick kiss on your forehead, mumbling “goodnight beautiful,” into the dark room,

and it occurs to him in that moment how foreign that pet name is, not having ever saying it to his wife before, but it so naturally falling off his lips as he looks at your sleeping face one more time.

that morning, you don’t know if you woke up more hungover or embarrassed.

met with a pounding headache and upset stomach before you caught the water and pills by your bed, sitting up in confusion before it all flooded back to you. 

the phone call to seonghwa.

the excursion in his car. 

the moment outside the apartment.

“i felt your cock, because you pushed it against me. i t-thought it was in my head, that you wanted me back, but i r-really think you do. either that, or i’m truly fucking crazy.”

“oh my fucking god,” you whisper-yell to yourself, throwing your pillow over your face as the horrible, awful, humiliating memories come back to your fuzzy brain. 

“what is wrong with me! how could i have said that?” 

you should’ve never ever gotten that drunk with the way your life is currently going. hiding a bunch of secrets from your roommate and having a bunch of thoughts you would’ve never dreamed of having about her very own father.

and then you go and verbalize them to mr. park himself, outwardly tell him not only about your inappropriate feelings but you’re even more delusional thoughts that you think he reciprocates them.

because even if he does, even if all the signs and your memories and the moments you’ve had thus are saying that’s correct, that doesn’t mean anything should happen further.

you guys have to be rational and realistic and think about how your foolish actions would effect others. 

how you and eunbi would be effected. how him and his wife would be effected. how eunbi and seonghwa would be effected - it’s a selfish, selfish decision that would only benefit the two of you.

it would harm way more people than it would help - in fact, it wouldn’t help anyone. not even you two. 

it would just bring down a pile of judgment on the both of you - seonghwa for being with a younger woman, a woman and friend of his daughter’s for fucks sake, and you for being with an older married man who happens to be your best friend’s dad. 

even just the sound of it sounds awful. even just the thought of it without any context or personal feelings makes you wanna-

“oh, god,” you groan, that awful queasy feeling making its way up your throat from your stomach causing you to spring up.

your head pounds as you just make it to the bathroom in time, spewing your guts into the toilet as you hold your hair back messily. you lean your head against the cold wall when you’re done, letting out a slight sigh of relief as some of the shitty feeling is lifted.

you still just sit there on the floor, contemplate your life and current decisions and panic over the stupid, drunken, ridiculous choices you made in the past 12 hours. 

you rise to your feet to brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face, plopping back down on your bed to see a text ping through from eunbi. 

eunbi [10:48 a.m.]: bitch, i feel like fucking shit. just puked on jiwoon’s bed and he puked at the sight of it:( this is the worst thing to ever happen 

"if only you knew...” you mumble as you shake your head, typing back a reply that you, too, just puked your guts out. 

eunbi [10:48 a.m.]: ugh i’m sorry you’re there alone :( i probably won’t be back till dinner time. i’ll pick up food though? how ‘bout burgers from that place with the fried oreos?

you [10:49 a.m.]: only if you bring six orders of them

eunbi [10:50 a.m.]: make that ten. rest well, sweets, see you soon <3 xoxo gossip girl 

you roll your eyes as you throw your phone down, stretching out on your bed and letting out a loud, dramatic yelp. 

you really have to get your life and emotions together. you can’t keep having these racing thoughts and replay of memories and the ever present feeling that you just want seonghwa around all the fucking-

the sound of your doorbell ringing causes your eyes to widen, sitting up to properly adjust before making your way into the living room. you call out a quiet “coming,” peeking your eye through the peephole and letting out a gasp.

you open the door to see none other than mr. park standing there, dressed up in his work attire holding a large thermos of-

“hangover soup. figured you were gonna need it.”

you let out a short, strangled laugh as you look at him, silently opening the door to invite him in. he can’t help but smirk as he lets himself in, removing his shoes before going into the kitchen.

you follow behind like a child about to be scolded, keeping yourself on the opposite side of the island as he shuffles around your cabinets for a bowl; you can only watch in fascination, his broad shoulders and back flexing as he searches around.

it’s all very casual and comfortable, like he’s done it a hundred times and rightfully belongs in your kitchen feeding you and rummaging through your drawers.

“i don’t know if i can eat yet,” you mumble, leant against the small island as he turns to look at you. 

he’s grateful your body is covered by the cabinets, remembering the short pajama shorts you put on last night. 

but the cabinets do nothing to hide your white tank top, the evidence of you sleeping braless right there in the form of hard nipples and the outline of your boob.

“it’ll make you feel better.”

you can only let out a scoff, not so much bothered by your hangover side effects as you are about your ridiculous comments and behavior toward him last night. 

“i doubt that,” you mutter, the tone of your voice causing him to leave the bowl and thermos on the table. he thinks about making his way over to the island but remains where he is, eyes roaming your face until you finally look up and meet his gaze. 

“i’m so sorry about calling you,” you blurt out. “and for... the stuff i said. i’m... i’m so embarrassed and stupid, i shouldn’t have said any of that. it was wrong and inappropriate and i completely understand if you think that was way-”

“i told you you weren’t crazy,” he says, his deep, confident voice cutting you off immediately. there’s a power in his voice that makes you perk up ever so slightly, watching his eyes stay on you before he take a step closer.

“do you remember that part of the conversation, too?”

“i t-thought it was in my head, that you wanted me back, but i r-really think you do. either that, or i’m truly fucking crazy.”

“you’re not crazy.”

your mouth becomes dry as you stare at him blankly, his eyebrow cocked and lips growing into a smirk the more you just... stare at him.

“but i will say, that confirmation surely helped last night,” he says, amusement in his tone as his lips pull into a smile. “i didn’t know just how hot you thought a dad like me was. a dilf, as you put it.”

your cheeks flush red and you find solace in one particular tile on the floor, not daring to look up or move a muscle, even when you hear him coming closer. even when his sock-clad feet are right in front of you, his arm raising to take your jaw in his firm hold and force your eyes to look at him.

they’re every bit as dark and intense as you remember, that familiar feeling pulling in the pit of your stomach. 

a feeling of such strong and overwhelming desire and arousal, it’s something you’ve never felt before. such a strong pull toward someone that it feels uncontrollable.

“i... i didn’t mean to say that,” you dumbly mumble, feeling a thick building tension in the air that’s quickly leaving you both ready to pick up where you left last night. 

“oh no?” he quips, a growing smirk on his face as he tightens his hold on you.

he’s looking down at you with the strangest mix of mocking and softness, an expression that probably shouldn’t make you as flustered as it does. 

“then what did you mean to say?”

you can’t control the breathy exhale that leaves your mouth when he swipes his finger along your bottom lip, the mint from your toothpaste and slight smell of vodka wafting in is face.

you can’t control the breathy and airy, “seonghwa,” that leaves your lips, his dick twitching and body moving until you’re pinned against the wall behind you. 

you can’t control the way you’re staying completely silent, knowing you should be telling him that this is wrong or that this shouldn’t be happening or that you two have other people to think about before you do this. 

“if you tell me to stop, i will,” he says, his voice deep and gruff and so gravely, you’ve never heard him like this before. “but if you don’t... if you’re not gonna tell me you don’t want this, i don’t think i’ll be able to stop, y/n.”

you lick over your lips so you don’t let out another breathy exhale, your chest rising and falling so intensely, you can’t believe you’re not about to pass out.

you can only continue to look at him all wide-eyed and pink-faced, feeling every last reservation and doubt within you fade away. 

“then don’t,” you mutter, pressing yourself into the wall so your wobbly legs don’t give out. “because i don’t think i’ll ever tell you to-”

you can’t even get your last words out before his lips crash down on yours, a moan leaving your mouth seconds later at the pure relief and satisfaction of finally kissing him. 

the way your lips mold together so perfectly, it’s like you’re already so in tune with the other. lips parting and tongues crashing and moans mixing together, it’s more relieving than either of you could imagine. 

his hands grab your hips firmly before he pulls you up and into him, a tiny squeal leaving your mouth when he plops you down on the cold island. 

but neither of you break the kiss; if anything, the even height only makes it more intense.

your hands in his dark, once perfectly styled hair. his hands cupping your cheeks before one falls into your hair, tipping your head back as your scalp stings and his tongue completely takes over your mouth. 

you can’t help the way you moan out his name, your strangled, breathy “mr. park,” causing him to pull you back by your hair just a little rougher.

his lips are already red and puffy when his eyes look down at you, the amount of lust and desire in him one he’s never felt in his entire life. 

“call me seonghwa,” he growls lowly, the tone of his voice causing wetness to pool in your pajama shorts. 

“seonghwa,” you moan out, desperate and whiny and trying to connect your lips again. 

but he doesn’t allow it. not until you repeat his name over and over and over, finally on the fourth one crashing your lips back together. 

and it’s just as relieving as the first, your lips parting and sloppy and wet. his low groans of your name causing you to moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you as close as possible. 

his hand in your hair snakes down your body slowly, his longer fingers touching your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

you let out a loud moan when you feel his touch, wetness pooling and desire building as you arch your back so you’re pressed further into his hand; he’s just about to switch to the other one, tweaking and rubbing his finger around your hard nipple, when his phone blares throughout the kitchen.

at first, he makes no move to answer it. 

he just focuses all his attention on the material of your shirt and your lips against his, growling about what a good girl you are and how long he’s been wanting to kiss you and touch you.

you can only moan in response, crying out in a way that would probably sound dramatic and fake if it weren’t so fucking real. 

“yo-your phone,” you mutter as you pull your mouth away from his, eyes finding his to see them dark and full of lust.

“i don’t give a fuck about my phone,” he growls, his other hand roughly grabbing your other boob to kneed your hard, abandoned nipple. 

the ringing finally stops and he’s back to his work, kissing and licking down your neck so achingly slow as you can only sit there and mutter his name pathetically.

“you don’t know how many times i almost cracked and did this,” he whispers lowly into your skin. “how many times i wanted so fucking desperately to take you and hear you moan like this.”

you wanna tell him that you too.

you too wanted to be like this with him so badly and hear his groans and grunts and the feel of his lips on you; but you can only nod as you clutch onto him desperately, hold onto the shoulders you pictured like this as he fucked into you with your face muffled in a pillow so his wife didn’t hear you two.

“i had to jerk myself off that night i caught you in a towel,” he mumbles, both guilt and arousal flooding through your veins as you remember that night as well. 

“but you already knew that, didn’t you, baby? you watched me do it like a dirty little-”

his phone blaring through the air again causes both of you to freeze, frustration  coursing through you just as seonghwa growls in the kitchen; it takes a lot for the man to get truly frustrated and this, he’s quickly discovering, is number fucking one. 

“what?” he growls when he finally pulls himself away from you, his voice deep and gruff but now full of bite - it shouldn’t make your pussy throb as much as it does. 

you can hear the slightly frantic voice on the other side of the phone, quickly distracted by the way a pissed off seonghwa loosens his black tie. he can only continue to watch you as he’s on the phone, the lust and frustration so evident in his eyes, it makes you bite back a moan. 

“are you kidding me?” he groans out, his jaw ticking as he hears about the utter incompetence of his workers. 

“un-fucking-believable,” he mumbles, the sorrows on the other end of the phone nothing compared to just how frustrated seonghwa is right now.

“i’ll be there in fifteen,” he growls out, not leaving any room for discussion as he hangs up immediately. 

his gaze shifts to you on the counter - hair a mess, lips red and puffy, hard, perky nipples peeking through your shirt - and he swears he’s never wanted to kill someone as much as he does right now. 

“i’m so sorry to do this, y/n,” he says, the pure sorrow and regret in his eyes so incredibly palpable. “but i have to go. something came up at work.”

you take a deep, shaky breath to calm he arousal coursing through your body, sitting yourself back on the counter as you look at him with understanding.

“i... it’s okay, mr. park. i.. figured from that phone call.” 

he’s never wanted to stay with someone as much as he does right now. 

he’s had to miss tons of events and special occasions due to his job: family reunions, birthday parties, christenings - but this truly feels like the most tragic.

because not only did this finally happen between you two, the breaking of the dam that’s been sexual tension and lingering feelings of the unknown, but now he has to leave.

leave you here on this counter looking like this when he could have you on top of him. when he could be telling you all the things he’s been wanting to do to you for the past two months. 

but now he can only stand in between your legs, his hand smoothing down your hair as he brushes the strands behind your ear. 

“you can’t understand how angry i am right now,” he mutters, a low chuckle leaving your mouth because no, you really can. “but i’ll make it up to you, okay? and then we can also... talk about everything.” 

because surely this is gonna require a talk.

figure out what the hell and how the hell this is gonna work between you two and see what exactly you both want from this; because for him, it’s not only physical. 

he wants you in every possible way, for you to be his and only his in a way, he can only hope, he can also prove to you despite the complications. 

“okay. that... that sounds good, yeah.”

he nods his head as his eyes roam your face, looking for any sort of hesitance or upset in your gaze but only seeing a starry-eyed, coy look he has to get away from before he kisses you again. 

“i’ll see you soon, y/n,” he says, with a finality and surety that, yes, mr. park wants you and yes, you absolutely just secured your twisted, forbidden fate with him.

seonghwa [12:05 p.m.] meet with me later tonight. i’ll send you the address.

seonghwa [3:29 p.m.] ?

seonghwa [6:45 pm.] don’t make me beg, y/n.

it had been exactly a week since you and seonghwa made out in the kitchen, all the memories of it, both, amazing but horribly revolting when being faced by them beside eunbi.

you almost screamed when she threw herself down on the cold surface of the kitchen island that night, remembering that, yes, just a few hours prior, her father was making out with you and playing with your nipples expertly. 

it just reminded you of how truly twisted and forbidden this relationship was, something that will probably always have to remain in the shadows and will be frowned upon by everyone who matters in your life.

“are you getting ready for something?” eunbi asked, watching as you nervously pace around you room.

she had come in for your blow dryer and stayed because of your current state, switching between anxiously looking at your phone and then toying through your closet for an outfit. 

almost like you had a...

“oh, my god! do you have a date, perhaps? i don’t how i didn’t see it sooner!” the girl squeals excitedly, jumping up from your floor and diving into your bed. her knee just misses colliding with your face, a huff leaving your mouth as you stare at her scoldingly. 

“no i don’t have a date,” you snap, more from your guilt than your friend’s excited accusation. “i’m debating even going. a few people from my class are getting together to work on our portfolio for the end of the year.”

and that’s technically not a lie, you try to justify, a sinking feeling deep within your stomach - you actually are meeting with them. just tomorrow.

“go sweet girl! be active, be social, take cute candid pictures of that handsome boy in your class or be someone’s mysterious, attractive muse.”

“you are so ridiculous,” you mutter with a smirk, the idea of being someone’s muse laughable to you. 

she sends you off with an encouraging wink twenty minutes later, throwing an outfit your way that you change because you can’t bear to have eunbi pick out the clothes you’re going to see her father in. 

you [7:33 p.m.] what time should i meet you?

seonghwa responds five minutes later with an address just eighteen minutes away, waving goodbye to eunbi and telling her you’ll be home later. 

“don’t wait up,” you tell her, her hand brushing you off casually as she eats her personal pizza and watches reality tv. 

you try not to let the immense guilt eat you completely alive on your ride over, a mix of intense nerves and excitement wracking your body. excitement because the thought of seeing seonghwa again and continuing what you started was so overwhelmingly satisfying. 

hearing the way his voice changes and face morphs, switching from a polite, professional man into someone so sexually charged and intense, it nearly makes you fall to your knees. 

but even as nice as that is, as much as it leaves your body humming and heart racing, you guys can’t do this. you have to be real and rational and think with your heads instead of your hearts and genitals. 

this is something that only feels right because it’s wrong, will only work behind closed doors and with the two of sneaking around and lying to people - it’s your first time seeing him and you already lied to eunbi expertly, left her at your apartment as she smiled softly at you and told you to have fun.

you shake your head of these thoughts as you roll down your window, allowing the cold air and loud pop music blasting through your speakers to distract you.

the city is dark and nearly empty at 8:00, everyone home and indoors due to the frigid temperatures outside. you pull up in front of large glass skyscraper, modern and sleek in the heart of other business buildings. 

seonghwa told you to take the elevator to the last floor, then go in the elevator down the hall that will lead to his suite. 

you expected to see a desk and a few chairs upon your arrival, maybe even a chaise for when he wanted to take a nap in between meetings.

but what you walked into was a full on studio apartment, a sectional couch and flat screen tv for the fun of having the money to buy those things. a breakfast nook in front of the floor to ceiling windows, with a view from the 50th floor making your hands sweat. 

a queen sized bed rested just between the built in bookshelf across the room, a beautiful comforter matching the soft hues of beige and hunter green in the space. 

seonghwa greeted you in a black, long-sleeved shirt and checkered pajama pants, his appearance looking so much younger and softer in his night time clothes.

it made your heart twist even more, everything about him looking so boyish and cute despite his age and looming height.

“hi.”

“h-hi,” you mutter, removing your shoes as you take a look around the space.

it’s so much different than the family home you stayed out, looking more lived in and full of life than the clean, cold appearance of white. he follows your stiff form as you move around, looking over the kitchen and living room area before turning to look up at him.

he’s closer than you anticipate, breath catching in your throat when your bodies are only a few inches apart.

his hand reaches out to move a strand of your hair, the familiar softness and scent bringing him right back to the other day. 

when he finally cracked and couldn’t hold himself back any longer, did something he was screaming at himself not to do for months but not feeling a stitch of regret when he couldn’t stop himself.

in fact, it only made him wish he did it sooner - but he can tell you’re feeling uneasy by it, everything about your body language and lack of eye contact making a frown pull at his lips. 

“i didn’t think you were gonna come,” he mumbles, looking at his phone all day like a lovesick teenager in school. 

you press your lips together so you don’t say something brash, waiting for a few silent minutes before you finally meet his gaze. 

“that’s because i wasn’t,” you tell him, your heart aching because you want him so bad. you want this and him and it feels like you can’t have it for so many good, actual reasons.

“i had to lie to eunbi about where i was going,” you say, his face falling at the mention of his daughter’s name. “it was so easy because, of course, she believed me. even though i lied right to her face.”

he licks over his lips as his eyes roam over you, an obvious pain and guilt all over your pretty face. he doesn’t know what to say to you although he wants to comfort you. reassure you sweetly and softly and tell you that everything will be okay. 

“that had to be hard,” he empathizes quietly, if ever feeling like a bad father, feeling like one in this moment. 

you let out a humorless chuckle as you nod your head, that guilty, horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach making you wanna vomit. it’s worse that even with that, you can still feel the underlying excitement and buzzing you get when you’re around him.

“we can’t do this, seonghwa,” you tell him, your voice too shaky to not sound confident and firm. “i... this is wrong on so many levels, you know that, right? we shouldn’t have done that.”

“of course i do,” he hums lowly, reminded everyday by the fact that he’s not only married but starting an affair with his daughter’s friend. his hands move to your hips anyway, gentle and slow and so careful, in case you don’t want him touching you and will choose to pull away.

you don’t, of course.

“but i want you, y/n,” he says, his eyes unwavering as he stares into yours, hands squeezing at your hips ever so slightly. “i’m not gonna pretend i don’t.”

he watches your composure break faintly, tongue peeking out to lick at your dry lips before you press them together in a line. 

his head dips by your lower ear so you can feel his breath waft against your skin, trying to control you breathing as your enveloped by his familiar scent and warmth. 

“i don’t know if you understand just how much i want you,” he mutters, a whine threatening to leave your mouth at the way his voice is so deep and gruff. “i think about it everyday. and it feels wrong but i can’t stop it.”

his hands on your hips move down your legs, black tights and pleated skirt leaving your skin bare. he feels hot on your skin as he explores your body slowly, groaning lowly when he touches your inner thighs.

“fuck, baby, you have no idea,” he grunts, every bit of composure in you breaking as you hold back a loud, pathetic whine. 

“i wanna ruin you so bad, make you cry and scream and moan my name again. but then i wanna take care of you, too, make sure you’re safe and happy and loved so i really don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to me.”

you’ve never heard him sound so primal, so not formal and kind and mature, like a powerful businessman or poster husband and father.

“i just want you all to myself, all the time. i want you right where i can always-”

a mix between a broken cry and whine leaves your lips, a breathy “stop,” following that has him pulling back to look at you.

he hates how happy he is that it looks like he’s already ruined you, your eyes wide and chest heaving and face so pained, it’s obvious you’re going through an extreme moral dilemma.

“why? because you don’t want it?” he asks, his hand moving to the back of your neck so you can look at him much more clearly.

you both know that’s not the case. 

you can feel it in everything in you and he can see it on your face, your eyes roaming over him with a mix of lust, desire, and fear. not fear of him but fear of what will happen when this really begins.

the lies and the guilt and the sneaking around but also the immense pleasure and happiness and feelings that will blossom. 

“because we shouldn’t,” you clarify, voice so shaky and weak, it’s pathetic you’re even trying to oppose right now. “i want it so bad, believe me, but... this isn’t right, seonghwa, and you know it.”

“for me, it’s right. i’m not thinking about anyone else, y/n,” he says, his head cocked to the side. “sometimes we deserve to be a little selfish.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you look at him, about to beg yourself to pull away or tell him to let go of you until you feel it against you. his hard cock through the sweatpants that shows you just how much you’re wanted.

just how much he wants you back and is sitting here begging you to realize. 

“i know it feels wrong and i’m sorry you had to lie to eunbi,” he hums lowly, his eyes full of sympathy and understanding. “but we both want to see where this goes. why should we be unhappy?”

he can see the hesitance melting away from your face as you press yourself closer to him, letting out the quietest of moans when you feel his hardness rub up against you. 

it leads him to trail his hand down your stomach and under your skirt, feeling your tights already slick with wetness as he runs his fingers over you gently. 

“you’re so wet, baby,” he groans, your own moan following as you grip his arm and your head falls back. “you’re so fucking wet and it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

you nod your head silently, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you feel your legs grow wobbly and unstable. 

“are you not gonna talk?” he asks, a bite in his voice that has you pressing your lips together. 

“how ‘bout now?” he continues, his hand slipping inside your tights and underwear before being met with your wetness.

you let out a loud cry of his name when he starts playing with your clit, your leg wrapping around his waist to give him more access and get more pleasure.

he can’t help but smirk when he feels you do that, finger moving down to slide into you. 

the first thing he notices is how tight you are, squeezing just around his fingers in all your soaked glory. it causes a groan to leave his own mouth, “jesus christ, you’re so tight,” he mutters, a whine leaving your mouth as you buck your hips into him. 

he picks up your other leg and wraps it around his waist, guiding you over to the bed before dropping you down and falling to his knees. you look down with clouded, lustful eyes, watching as he strips off your skirt, tights and soaked thong at an alarmingly fast speed.

his dark, hot gaze meets you, so intense and piercing, it makes more wetness gather in between your legs. 

and whether he saw it or smelt it or just fucking knows your body so well already, he brings his mouth down to your legs. places soft kisses and long licks to your inner thighs before his finger slips back inside you and his mouth latches onto your clit.

you’ve never felt the sensations ripping through you as seonghwa eats you out like a man starved, his own groans vibrating off your pussy at the taste of you. 

you would’ve thought with the sounds leaving him that he was getting any pleasure out of this, your hand on his cock or the both of you in 69 position so he’s at least getting something. 

but it’s like he’s getting off on eating you out, hearing your loud moans and cries of his name and the way your hands tangle in your hair. you pull at the strands when he adds another finger, throwing your head back as you buck your hips into his face and cry out his name weakly. 

“that’s it, baby, there you go,” he mumbles against your wetness, tongue running up and down your dripping slit. “how good does this feel?”

“i... seonghwa, it’s so good, i can’t- oh, my god, i-”

his face is back in between your legs as a loud moan escapes you, a feeling building in your lower stomach that only spurs on your thrusting hips and loud, whiney moans. 

“come on my face,” he begs gruffly, eyes piercing right into yours as you look down at him.

and you’re pretty sure that’s what does you in. 

the way he’s looking up at you from between your legs and begging you to come on his face, a loud whine leaving you just as orgasm floods through your body. 

it takes a while for you to come down, his tongue licking slowly up and down before you push at his head and roll over on your stomach. attempting to catch your breath and halt the ringing in your ears, a pleasant throbbing in your core from the intensity of what the fuck he just did.

you turn over just as he’s walking toward you with a small white towel, rubbing your legs gently before leaning over your body and pressing a long, lingering kiss on your lips. 

you meet the kiss back with a fervor that’s unbelievable to him, like you didn’t just come twenty seconds ago until he realizes, he could probably come ten times and still get it up for you.

you can’t help but be aware of his hard dick hitting your leg, disconnecting the kiss quickly to spit on your hand and jerk him off slowly. 

you smile into this kiss when he moans against your mouth, grunts and groans leaving the man nearly twice your age as you jerk him off lazily. you pull his body slightly closer so he’s closer to your core, using your instincts and years of research to drag his cock up your wet slit. 

he lets out a loud grunt of your name when his cock nearly slips into you, circling the head around your clit before back down to your slit. 

you take the time to get all your wetness on him, spitting on your hand once more before pushing him on his back and giving him “the best hand job of his 39 years of life.”

“shut up,” you giggle into his chest, your cheeks pink and hair a mess as you two lay under the covers together.

you think it’s nearing midnight at this point, the two of you laying there in your post orgasm dazes and then never getting up. you just stayed there and talked, you asked him about work and why he has this space. he asked you about school and if you had any weekend plans. 

it seemed as if you talked about everything and nothing, floating from topic to topic so smoothly, you don’t know if it should feel this easy.

“come to dinner with me on saturday,” he mumbled in your ear, his tired eyes fighting sleep as he lays there beside you, his head buried in your hair from behind. 

you hummed your reply of yes a few minutes later but he was falling fast asleep, his arms wound tight around your body as he pulled you closer and pecked a goodnight kiss on your shoulder. 

the next three saturdays had turned into date night. 

the first was to an italian restaurant just outside the city, surprisingly cute and quaint despite the price for a single plate of risotto. you and seonghwa smiled and drank and played footsie under the table, giggles leaving your mouth that had his heart pulling in his chest. 

the next saturday was his favorite sushi place downtown, a safe option because his wife detested sushi and eunbi was bound to the sorority house for the weekend planning formal.

and this saturday was rainy and cold and everything you hated about march, not cold enough to have pretty snowfall like december but nowhere near warm enough to enjoy the sun and outdoors. 

that’s why you texted seonghwa when you knew he was winding down at work, asking him if you could have date night in since eunbi was spending the weekend an hour away at jiwoon’s and you really just wanted to stay home tonight.

seonghwa [5:19 p.m.] of course, baby. i’ll pick up takeout on my way over. 

you smile at he pet name in his text, jumping in the shower before making sure every inch of the house was clean. you hear him knock on the door at 6:30 sharp, opening in excitement to see him standing there in his work clothes.

he’s in all black today, from head to toe including his hair, and it makes every part of you feel incredibly warm and flustered. almost regretful, really, that you two haven’t had sex yet. 

“hi. brought some food by,” he says with a smile, mindful of the neighbors which is the only reason he doesn’t pull you in for a kiss. 

but he’s quick to do so once you’re behind closed doors, dropping the bag on the entryway table before pulling you into him. 

you’re always exactly what he needs after a stressful week at work, kissing you and touching you and talking with you. 

hearing your soft giggle or receiving your playful swats, watching as you listen to him so intently, he swears he doesn’t think anyone in his whole life has made him feel the way you do. 

“hi, beautiful,” he hums against your lips, that cheesy greeting he always gives you never failing to make you bush.

“hi,” you mumble back, his cologne wafting in your nose as he moves closer to you. “you smell good.”

“so do you,” he chuckles, taking your hand in his as he leads you over to the kitchen. 

you watch as he sets up your food with a content smile, making you sit and watch as he asks about your day and goes through your cabinets with ease. 

you’re settled in front of him as you slurp up spaghetti and share your dishes, letting out a snort as he tells you about the time he sported a mullet in the 90s. 

“you’re lying!” 

“oh, i wish i was,” he cringes, the memory of his brown shaggy mullet and double denim on the first day of high school all too fresh. “but it was the times.”

you let out a giggle as you shake your head, looking at him with tears of laughter in your eyes.

“no it wasn’t! mullets were the 80s!”

“they carried over,” he insists, sipping from his beer to hide the playful smile pulling at his lips - they definitely did not carry over.

“no they didn’t, you were just scary,” you giggle, looking over his handsome, smiling face before you shrug your shoulders. “and honestly, it’d be unfair if you were hot your whole life anyway. you wouldn’t be humble like you are now.”

“who said i’m humble? i’m hot, y/n. a dilf, some would say.”

the smile quickly falls from your face, causing him to let out a chuckle through a satisfied smirk. 

he throws you a chastising look when you throw a dirty napkin at him, his narrowed eyes and quirked eyebrow all you need to take out of your chair and into the living room.

but despite his age, he’s probably (definitely) in better shape than you.

he catches up to you just a few seconds later, arms wrapping around your waist and a squeal leaving your mouth as he plops you down on the couch. he hovers above as he watches a smile spread across your face, eyes roaming you so sweetly and softly before he places a chaste kiss on your lips. 

he pulls back and mumbles for you to pick a movie, cleaning up the food and dishes before you can even protest. you plop down on the couch with a sigh, the rainy and dark night sky outside making you very tempted to pick a scary movie. 

you find a paranormal ghost film that looks interesting enough, waiting for him patiently on the couch with blankets and pillows. 

he smiles as he sees you there waiting, his tall figure walking toward you and looming above. he smirks as he watches your eyes looking over him, so blatantly checking him out, it’s like you’re about to ask him to-

“you didn’t bring a change of clothes?” you ask with a soft pout. “you’re not gonna be comfy.”

he holds back a chuckle as he shakes his head, insisting that he’ll be fine before you’re off and running into your room.

you have an oversized t-shirt that you usually wear to bed, frequently buying men’s t-shirts or sweatshirts to lounge around the house in.

“should i be concerned as to why you have a man’s shirt in your room?” he quips, sliding off his pants to just leave him in his black boxer briefs and your white t-shirt. 

you try not to let your eyes drop below his waist, explaining to him why exactly you had this clothing on deck.

“guess i’ll have to give you some of mine then, if you’re such an enthusiast,” he mumbles, plopping down next to you. you rest your head on his shoulder as you cuddle your body closer to him, his arm wrapping around you as small, content hum leaves your mouth.

the movie proves to be a flop around the 45 minute mark, you and seonghwa making comments back and forth before his hand starts to dig into your shoulder.

a small groan leaves your mouth when they dig into a small knot in your shoulder, seonghwa’s eyebrows pulling together before he tells you to turn around. 

you shake your head, turning to him and insisting that you’re fine - that if anything, he needs a massage for working six days a week for way longer than the typical eight hours. 

“fine, then me next,” he says, not leaving you with any other option than to allow his hands on you. 

the tiny whines and moans leaving your mouth make his dick twitch, your head tipping back and falling onto his shoulder as your bones start to feel like jelly. 

his hands move down to your lower back, thumbs pressing small imprints into your skin before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him.

he’s pressed up against the arm rest, your body in between his legs as you lean back on his chest. 

“what are you doing?” you whisper into the darkness, the only light in the apartment coming from the tv. 

“relax, baby,” he mumbles, his breath wafting in your ear before he presses a peck on your shoulder. 

“b-but it was your turn to feel good,” you whine quietly, feeling less and less motivated the more his hands snake down your body and linger by your thighs.

“this makes me feel good,” he mumbles, smiling as he places his hand between your legs. 

he feels warmth radiating from your pussy that causes him to hold back a groan, running his fingers up and down your clothed slit until he feels wetness on the fabric.

“i... but i want you to... what about you, seong-”

his finger sliding inside of you causes all your words to halt, curled and wet and long as it hits your g-spot perfectly. your moans only grow louder when he starts to play with your clit, rolling his hips into your back so you can feel his hardness against your back.

“i love hearing you moan, baby, see,” he mumbles, his other hand trailing up to hold your jaw tightly. “you sound so fucking pretty.”

a strangled moan leaves you as his fingers pick up the pace, your hips bucking and riding his hand until you’re coming around his fingers. 

you don’t even give yourself time to adjust before you get up and remove your shorts, pushing him back against the couch cushions and straddling his hard, clothed cock.

you connect your lips as you rub your sensitive pussy over him, his low moans and grunts in your mouth causing you to slip your tongue in.

you’ve been getting more and more bold the more you guys explore each other, tongues clashing and movements purposeful and moans so loud and pretty and whiney because you know he gets off on it. 

“i wanna fuck you so bad,” he mumbles against your mouth, your hand slipping inside of his boxers to jerk off his hard, dripping cock. you’re only faintly aware of your phone vibrating on the table, mind flooded with the idea of getting on your knees and sucking him off.

“what about my mouth?” you ask, pulling back so you can stare at him with wide, lustful eyes. “will you fuck my mouth, mr. park?”

his eyes flash and the sight alone makes your stomach swoop, his hand in your hair and tugging you down until your on your knees and between his. there’s a slightly sting on your scalp but it doesn’t matter in the slightest, not when you’re licking the underside of his cock and staring at him as you do so. 

not when you suck the tip before engulfing him in your mouth, his loud grunt of your name causing wetness to form between your legs.

“holy fuck, baby,” he groans, his head throw back against the couch and his hips bucking into your mouth slightly.

and you just wanna prove yourself even more, keeping your eyes on him as you bob your head up and down. swirl your tongue around and around and allow him to hit the back of your throat.

his grunts are getting louder and more frequent, his hips bucking and his hands pulling at you hair until, suddenly, the sound of your doorbell ringing stops it all.

his hands are still in your hair as you pull off his cock with a wet sloppy, pop, the two of you staring at one another in surprise. 

your heart starts to pound viciously in your chest, scrambling over to the table in the nude to see 5 new texts from eunbi and 3 missed calls. 

eunbi [8:52 p.m.] you will never believe the night i had! fuck jiwoon to hell, i’m omw home and demand youmake brownies so i can forget all about this stupid fucking dickweed

eunbi [9:19 p.m] why are boys so stupid???? why are they even on this earth if they don’t do anything right or communicate properly???

eunbi [9:27 p.m] why are YOU not communicating properly??? u better be busting ur ass making brownies, istg y/n

eunbi [9:45 p.m] if you’re with those photography loving, y/n stealing nerds, i’m gonna break their cameras

eunbi [10:02 p.m] pls for the love of fuck tell me you’re home. i forgot my keys and i’m gonna lay in traffic in the next two seconds

“get in my room,” you whisper-yell at seonghwa, red, swollen cock out and aching to be relieved as he sits there in the cold air. 

“what? why?” he asks lowly, a bad feeling sinking in his gut at the ghost-white, horrified look on your face.

“eunbi is fucking home!” you tell him through gritted teeth, his face falling as you throw his clothes at him. “get in my room NOW and hide in the closet.”

he’s about to protest until he hears the doorbell ring again, the simple fact that his daughter is downstairs and waiting to come into her apartment finally getting through his head.

you scramble to put your clothes on as you move around the apartment, making sure there’s not a single sign of seonghwa anywhere before fixing your appearance to the best of your ability. 

you answer on the intercom and hear eunbi’s “fucking finally!,” buzzing her in and trying not to pass out from the rapid pounding in your chest.

it feels as if you’re ready to pass out, pure panic and fear coursing through your body as eunbi makes her way up to the apartment. you continue to look around the kitchen and living room for anything suspicious, eyes widening when you see seonghwa’s shoes placed at the front door.

you scramble to pick them up and rush to your room clumsily, opening the door and throwing them in enough to see seonghwa sitting on your bed with his head in his hands.

he shoots up when you open the door, relief covering his face as you shake your head and point toward the closet silently.

you're making your way back down the hallway, eyes roaming over the apartment in complete and utter paranoia, when eunbi bursts through the door.

"jiwoon is such a fucking idiot!" she yelps, flicking on the lights before hauling ass into the kitchen. she rips open the fridge and is relieved to find her last white claw, snatching the lime flavor and cracking it open violently.

"you'll never believe what this motherfucker did!” she snaps, taking a swig of the drink before continuing her trek toward the living room. “i'm actually shocked, disgusted, horrified, even, that this handsome son of a bitch actually made me-"

you follow behind with your heart pounding and mind racing, not even realizing her feet had stopped moving until you crash into her back.

your heart drops into your stomach as you watch her look over the living room, lights now on and tv idle on the movie screen but seemingly everything else normal - there's no men clothes or leftover food anywhere, what the hell could she be staring at?

"why does it.... what is that...." eunbi looks around the living room before turning to you, her face scrunched in suspicion and familiarity. "is that cologne?"

and just as fast as that expression crossed her face, her mouth dropped open and eyes lit up, she’s running over to you and hanging off your arm like an annoying little toddler.

"did you have a freakin boy here?" she squeals, "is that why you weren’t answering? tell me it's the one who claimed you as his muse. please tell me it was him, oh my god, if i cock blocked you i'm gonna be so-"

"he wasn't here!" you blurt out, flicking her off you and taking a deep inhale of air - you don't smell anything, so how does she?

"you're full of shit, i smell cologne! it smells just like my dad's so he has expensive taste, too," she winks, her eyes falling to the empty beer bottle on the table. "and beer?!" she squeals, "you hate beer!"

panic starts to make its way through your body, chest tight and heart pounding as you wrack your mind for any, lord please fucking any, explanation.

"he- he wasn't here long," you correct, voice so obviously tight and shaky, it's unbelievable she's not calling you out right now. "he drank a beer and we watched a movie. but the others were here too, before your dirty little mind gets any ideas."

"ugh so you mean to tell me you weren't fooling around on the couch?" eunbi pouts, throwing herself down on the ottoman in front of it; her pout quickly turns into a deep frown, then vicious anger, examining the couch with a scary type of heat in her eyes.

"me and stupid jiwoon fooled around this couch, you know."

you let out a breath of relief, grateful for the conversation to be shifting away from you. 

"i... did not need to know that," you respond dryly, a horrible amount of guilt and disgust coursing through you. 

like you weren’t just there with her father, his dick so far down your throat you couldn't breathe, and now you're talking shit to her about being sexual on the shared surfaces.

"what even happened anyway?” you ask, plopping down the couch because you can’t bear for your lying self to be close to her. “i thought you were supposed to sleepover?"

"oh i absolutely was! until this asshole decided to play in his stupid video game tournament while i was there! he's a grown ass man, what kind of video game tournament is more important than me? his girlfriend?” she asks, hands flying and voice full of anger as she recalls their argument.  

“he didn't do this when we were in high school but now when he's fucking adult, he decides to..."

an angry eunbi is a eunbi that takes time to simmer, just needing to be heard as she rants and raves before its like all the breath her lungs could hold is void of her body. 

you can only sit there and nod, trying to listen to her to the best of your ability because the fact that her father is just a few feet away, hiding in your bedroom and waiting for your return, is too much. 

what the fuck were you thinking bringing him here? why would you think that was a good idea, to bring him in your shared space with eunbi and act as if you two couldn’t get caught at any fucking seco-

“but was i being too harsh? i could’ve napped or watched tv since he only had an hour left,” she says, the brunt of her anger and irritation now morphing into an obvious sadness and frustration.

because you know if there’s one thing she likes best, it’s her sleepovers with jiwoon. 

“i mean... i get why you were upset,” you say, turning your body toward her. “it was kind of rude of him.”

“right!” she squeals, “that’s what i was thinking! and now i’m avoiding all of his messages. he called me about 30 times on my drive here.”

“eunbi...” you scold lightly, the bratty look on her face a completely contrast to her defeated body language.

“i had already made a scene. i couldn’t go back with my tail between my legs and accept it!” she reasons, “i’d look like a little bitch.”

you forget for a moment what a bad friend you are, matching her playful, teasing energy as you feel your lips quirk into a smirk. her eyes narrow as she raises her leg to kick you gently, whines leaving her mouth as you let out a soft giggle.

“okay, fine. i’m a little bitch. we know,” she admits, “but he shouldn’t have done that! he didn’t have to stay for the whole thi-”

her phone’s vibrations causes her words to halt, you looking at her while she watches her phone. stares at jiwoon’s name and contact picture, the two of them hugging and smiling at the camera, and you see in her eyes how much she wants to answer.

“answer him,” you say, rising from your feet as the anxious pull comes back to your chest. “you know he’s probably losing his mind.”

“as he should,” she mumbles, waving you off as she waits until the very last second to answer. “what?”

her voice has a snappy edge in it that would usually cause you to laugh, watching her stay seated right in the living room before you make your way down the hall and into your room.

you walk in quietly, locking the door and pressing your back against it as you allow yourself to take deep, shaky breaths; it feels like you couldn’t get enough air in your lungs if you tried, watching seonghwa who’s looking at you with the same freaked out, anxious expression. 

“are you okay?” he whispers lowly, tears threatening to spring in your eyes as you shake your head. 

and that’s how you’re sitting beside him, throat clogged and hands still shaking as you both just sit there, silence saying more than anything as you both listen to eunbi yelling at jiwoon from the living room.

“this was such a stupid idea,” you mumble, keeping your voice low and quiet as you talk beside him. “this was so unbelievably stupid and risky, i don’t know what we were thinking.”

and seonghwa can’t even defend that or tell you anything otherwise - because right now, as he’s hiding in your room like a teenage boy who just got caught by a girl’s parent, he can see just how fucked up this situation is. 

how both of you are so terrified in this moment, pale-faced with pounding hearts and the horrible, gut wrenching feeling of nerves and anxiety. 

but he thinks it’s even worse the way you guys are clinging together, how he wraps his arm around you and pulls you into him. mumbles in your ear that everything is gonna be okay as long as you two stay quiet and wait until eunbi falls asleep. 

it’s around midnight when seonghwa passes out in your bed, his arm wrapped around your waist and breath fanning down your neck as you hear his gentle, even breaths. 

you two were keeping your conversation to a minimum despite your tv being on, just wrapped up in one another with your thoughts and the feel of your skin on the others. 

your soul nearly left your body when eunbi tried to open your door, you jumping in seonghwa’s hold but the older man pulling you tighter against his body.

“the door is locked,” he mumbled sleepily, his lips by your mouth just barely a whisper. “it’s okay.”

“y/n? are you sleeping?” he hears his daughter’s voice ask, his own calmness melting away as he hears her voice.

she sounds so happy and hopeful despite her one hour screaming fest in the living room, realizing in that moment he raised a daughter who didn’t take shit from anyone. 

this feels very much like his two worlds colliding catastrophically - his life as a father and husband, someone who always puts his family first and acts in the best interest of them, to his life as a man. 

anything his wife and eunbi wanted, he worked his ass off to give them for the last 22 years of his life. complete his duties as a father to provide, to take care, to always put his child’s interest above his own.

but at what point can he start caring about himself? at what point did he lose himself into becoming an unhappy, married father who worked and forgot who he once was?

he truthfully didn’t even get to find himself, thrown into the world of an adult because he was forced to marry and take care of a child he wasn’t ready for - he didn’t regret it by any means, he wouldn’t change the course of events if he got the chance, but it’s something he’s thought about since his time with you.

you make him feel something he’s never felt before, excitement and giddy and like a part of his life that’s been missing is slowly coming to him.

so that’s why, even though this feels so wrong and dirty and terrible of him, he can’t say this needs to end. that this is gonna be the thing to make him realize sneaking around with you was a foolish, rash decision.

because he doesn’t think anything is gonna make him feel that way. 

he likes the way you make him feel too much. he likes the way you look at him and kiss him and listen to him, how you two genuinely have a romantic, emotional and sexual connection he’s craved his entire life. 

it’s the same way you’ve never felt like this in your entire young life, not having too much experience on an emotional level but knowing in your heart that this connection is very real.

how he makes you feel and how happy you get to see him. how warm and excited you get and how much you don’t wanna leave him at the end of your time together.

you’d fall asleep in his arms right now if it wasn’t for your mind still racing, the nerves still zipping through you at how close you guys came to getting caught tonight by eunbi.

your phone vibrating on your bed side table causes you to still, craning your neck to see eunbi’s name on your screen. you swipe open your phone with shaky hands, feeling like you’re finally able to breathe tonight as you read her message.

eunbi [12:41 a.m.] good morning sleepy head! so unfortunately, i’m a weak in the knees slut for my loser, gamer boyfriend who’s outside to pick me up :/ but i’ll be back tomorrow doing the walk of shame and would appreciate your discretion. luv u, sleep well <3

guilty tears prick your eyes as you let out a calming, slow exhale, hearing the door to your apartment close a few moments later. 

you turn in seonghwa’s hold to see his eyes closed and face relaxed, black hair hanging low in his face. he looks even younger in his sleep, skin so smooth and blemish-free, it’s like he’s not even a real person.

your finger reaches out to trace the sharp line of his jaw, your touch so slow and calming, you didn’t at all think it would wake him. 

but then his eyes pop open and he’s looking at you with all kinds of softness and amusement, watching with a growing smile as you look at him in surprise. 

“oh... hi,” you mumble, your voice still low in a whisper. “i thought you were sleeping.”

“your phone woke me up,” he chuckles, taking your wrist in his hand so he can bring your hand to his mouth. he presses a soft kiss to your skin as your eyes follow, cheeks warming in the darkness you’re grateful he can’t see in. 

“eunbi just left,” you inform him, your heart pounding at the chaste kiss on your hand. “jiwoon came to pick her up.”

“so they made up i guess,” he chuckles humorlessly, the small nod of your head and soft smile causing him to do the same. 

you watch as his eyes trace over every part of your face, like he’s trying to memorize every little detail about you. it causes your throat to become tight, eyes fluttering closed when he grasps your chin to connect your lips. 

the kiss is slow and chaste and so sweet, it makes your heart ache. 

you can feel just how much your lips fit together, parting on one another as you both take the time to just kiss. there’s nothing rushed or lustful about it, just the two of you haring a soft, slow kiss in the comfort of your dark room.

“i’m sorry i put you in this position,” he mumbles against your lips. “it’s wrong of me and i hate that... that this is how it is,” he explains softly, eyes looking in yours that were once filled with so much fear and tension. 

“i’m sorry how anxious this made you tonight. i know it was a close call.”

you nod your head as you look at him, feeling as if your heart cracked down the middle. 

“i put you in this position too, seonghwa,” you say back, voice raising just a tad. “it’s... both of us doing this. i made this decision the same way you did.

he licks over his lips as he feels his throat becomes clogged, his hands on your waist tightening when he pulls you closer. 

“i know, baby,” he says, his eyes falling to your lips for a split second. “but i saw how scared you were. i... i don’t wanna be the reason for anything that’s gonna bring you unhappiness or fear or doubt.”

“and you won’t,” you assure him softly, shaking your head as you give him a soft smile. “you can’t be.”

but you both know that’s a lie. 

you both knew when this started that this was gonna be ugly and forbidden and wrong, everything about it pointing in the direction that this isn’t something you should even think about doing.

but it just feels so right to the both of you. 

the way you fit together, the way you connect, the way that now, because it’s just you and him together again, everything feels okay again.

between your semester picking up, real meetings with your photography group and private, intimate dates with seonghwa, it felt like you hadn’t hung out with eunbi in weeks. 

any time you were home, she was in class or at the sorority house - preparing for her departure in just a few months and staying connected with the girls she couldn’t help but form a superficial bond with throughout her four years. 

and then when she got home, you were off. either going to the campus or seonghwa’s office to have a romantic candle lit dinner. 

“i’m almost done with my portfolio,” you tell him excitedly, a sweet smile on your face because this is all possible thanks to him. “i only wish i could just crash a wedding or something.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he watches you from across the table, his hand in the middle as you toy with his fingers casually. 

“maybe you can,” he says, his lips red from the bottle of wine you shared. “we can stake out wedding venues. offer your services for half the price.”

“are you drunk?” you giggle, kicking his leg under the table playfully. “i can’t be a poacher, seonghwa! 

a smile pulls at his lips as he finishes off his glass off, rising from his seat to make his way over to you. you let out a squeal when he pulls you up suddenly, your legs wrapping around him immediately. 

he plops on the couch with you in his lap, hand gently carding through your hair.

“you’re such a professional already,” he comments with a smirk, his voice all types of deep smoothness that make your heart flutter. “high morale. a strict set of values. i almost wanna invest my money to support your future, self-owned business.”

“don’t you dare,” you whine, your first knocking into his chest lightly. “you already paid my tuition. i won’t allow that, too, seonghwa.”

“but would you really know?” he asks teasingly, a drunk giddiness you’ve never seen in the man before. “it’d be in the form of a graduation present. could’ve been from anyone, baby. you wouldn’t know.”

“oh, i’d know. no one would drop the money you do on me, mr. park,” you bite back seductively, his eyes narrowing in on the smirk making its way across your face.

you had just about had a mental breakdown the other week when he presented you with a gift, looking at him skeptically before pulling out a beautiful necklace. 

a diamond pendant lay on the dainty, sliver chain, shining so beautifully under the dull light of his apartment, you almost thought he was playing a practical joke on you.

it took him all night to convince you to keep it, that he wanted you to have it and it’d make him really happy to see you wear it. 

“well the necklace really does look pretty on you,” he hums lowly, your lips meeting in a sweet, chaste kiss despite your compromising position on his lap. “you look beautiful, baby.”

a blush makes its way across your cheeks, hiding your face in his neck as you let out an embarrassed whine. his deep chuckle rings through the apartment, his hands resting on your hips as he enjoys the presence of you.

the feel of you in his lap, the complete and utter calmness that comes over him when you’re around, your quiet breaths that make him so stupidly content, it’s hard to picture what his days were like before you. 

“beautiful and mine,” he mumbles into your hair, his arms wound tightly around your waist. “stay over tonight. i wanna fall asleep with you.”

your heart pulls in longing because that’s something you absolutely wanna do. you wanna fall asleep and wake up next to him more than you care to admit, but, unfortunately, you can’t.

“i cant, i promised eunbi i’d be home to watch our drama,” you tell him with a pout, arms wrapping coyly around his shoulders. “i actually have to leave soon.”

“baby, c’mon,” he whines, hands squeezing lightly at your hips. “just for tonight. i want you here with me.”

you bite down on your lip as you cock your head at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back with a sad smile.

“i can’t,” you tell him, “i want too, really badly, but i can’t. we have to see who’s gonna be the one to-”

he scoops you up again causing a squeal to leave your mouth, throwing you down on the bed in an act that causes you to rush home twenty minutes late.

“i’m sorry, bi, we got held up at campus,” you lie through your teeth, carrying a bag of snacks and wine coolers you picked up from the store. “i bought some goodies in exchange.”

you look up to see eunbi cuddled up on the couch, face mask and pjs on as she looks at you with a mock, chastising look - you wonder when the tables turned, when she was the one waiting on you with a judgemental look of reproach.

“oh i bet you did, miss ma’am, trying to win me over with some... are those mike’s hards?” she squeals, jumping up from the couch with an excited look on her face. “i haven’t had one of those since middle school!”

“why were you drinking in middle school is this real question here,” you chirp, her eyes rolling before she pulls you down toward the couch.

“mike’s hard is proper middle school etiquette,” she begins, clicking on the tv to the newest episode of true beauty. “now shush, we must begin!”

you let out a snort as you open up your bag of snacks, placing chips and cookies in front of you for the next two hours of heartbreak you know for sure is coming. 

but in true eunbi form, she doesn’t shut up throughout the whole thing.

commenting on the actors and the dialogue and how even though poor seojun is superior in every way (”bad boy looks, sweet fun banter, and an overall better trope of a man”) it’s obvious this is more of an unrequited love than love triangle. 

“it’s like they didn’t even try!” she whines an hour into the show, her upset face looking smooth and moisturized as jukyung and seojun have banter in the street. “look how much happier she is with him! they have all that fun passionate banter and chemistry. it makes no sense!”

and even though you would never let it slip that you’re secretly more team suho, something about his sweet, quiet nature calling to you, you can’t help but giggle. smile at her comments and laugh at the tv, eating away at your chips until you feel her persistent gaze on you. 

“what?”

“you remind me of jukyung these days,” she hums, a wise-ass smirk on her face as she leans in closer to you. “i know you’re preoccupied with a boy. and like, i don’t know why you’re being so secretive about it when you know in detail the way jiwoon rails me.”

“i never asked to know any of that!” you point out with a growing smirk, the dismissive wave of her hand causing you to snort.

“still! i know someone’s making you happy,” she says, “and i have a feeling it has to do with mr. photography. the yin to your yang, bonnie to clyde, the troy to your gabriella but you’re gonna have to tell me eventua-” 

you see her eyes staring down at your neck in the middle of her rant, eyes bulging and lips pursed before she’s grabbing at the dainty, sliver chain.

“what the hell is- did he give this to you?” she squeals, her eyes roaming over the fine piece of diamond with envy. “he got money, bitch, damn! are you freakin’ kidding me! gifts?! real diamond? why are you not telling me more about this man!”

you had taken the necklace off anytime you’d come home within this past week, guilt and nerves building up in you as you do your best to remain calm.

“because there is no man, for one! i told you we’re all just friends,” you groan to her, flicking away her hands aggressively. “and i bought this for myself, there is no way it’s real.”

and you thought your awkward laugh of disbelief would’ve sold anyone, that even the mere notion that you were wearing a real diamond around your neck was impossible.

but eunbi had an eye for these things, countless diamond jewels with authenticity she wouldn’t even have to question - it’s why she’s so persistent with yours, eyeing it up and down and all around to come to the conclusion that

“are you sure?” she asks, skepticism all over her face. “that shit looks real.”

“it was quite literally $29.99 so i hope not, for the store’s sake,” you say, the girl looking it over one more time before she lets out a dismissive hum. 

“interesting, very interesting,” she hums, her attention slowly being pulled back to the show. “well, when you’re ready to tell me about the boy making you smile sooo dreamily, you know where to find me.”

you spend the rest of the night with an immense amount of pain and guilt, knowing that, tomorrow, when you talk to seonghwa, it’ll all fade away. 

because that’s usually what happens. 

in his presence you’re able to forget about all the betrayal and backstabbing and absurdity of this situation.

how, if eunbi ever finds out, your friendship might never ever be the same again - and it’s not something you’ve ever wanted to give up or lose. she’s your best friend and someone you’ve come to love and need over the past four years. 

“are you a grudge holder?” you ask your roommate, you washing the dishes as she dries and puts them away.

you had just watched a horror-thriller about two roommates, one falling in love with the other and confessing late into the night about their feelings for them; but after she had politely rejected her, she had plotted her revenge for weeks upon weeks.

watching as she met with others and dated other people and allowed herself to fall in love with someone else just to sadistically torture her because she rejected her and found someone else.

“why? are you scared that if you reject me, i’m gonna try to fuck you up?” she quips with a smirk, bumping her hip with yours in a way that makes you roll your eyes.

“oh, please,” you mumble, a soft giggle leaving your mouth as she climbs up on the counter.

she places the cups and plates away on the higher shelves, crossing her legs as she sits on the counter and watches you finish the last of the utensils.

“i don’t think i’m much of a grudge holder,” she says, cocking her head to the side in thought.

“if someone does something by accident, like offends me by accident, absolutely not. but i don’t really like liars,” she says, remembering the downfall of her high school group being that number one issue.

“it’d be hard for me to forgive a liar. especially if i considered them a good friend to me and they did something... unforigiveable.”

that conversation from your first year of getting to know each other couldn’t help but play over and over in your mind, the sinking feeling in your stomach reminding you that, no matter how this ends, you and eunbi might not ever be the same.

that if this gets out somehow, if you and seonghwa fuck up again and get caught, eunbi might find out and never wanna talk to you again - and truthfully, you can’t blame her.

but you also can’t picture ever losing her.

the girl you’d grown to love and who has been there for you for you entire college career. it makes you sick to even think about, her finding out and feeling so betrayed and upset, she wouldn’t be able to look at you anymore.

but you’ve never felt the way you do with seonghwa. you’ve never been able to connect with someone and feel as if you’re meant to be with him, find comfort in his presence and the way he makes you feel. 

like how every morning you wake to a message from him, a simply typed good morning beautiful that always makes you start the day feeling just a little bit happier. 

today’s your day off from classes so you spend it cleaning the apartment, tiding up your room and giving it a deep cleaning before moving onto the living room. there’s leftover wine coolers and chip bags from yesterday, you and eunbi staying up well into the night giggling and chatting on the couch.

you had missed spending time with her without feeling plagued by negative feelings, ashamed that you know you only have yourself to blame for.

you’re humming softly to yourself, finishing your last task of the afternoon when you hear a loud commotion at your door. a harsh fist banging so loudly, you fear it’s mrs. park about to run in and call you a home-wrecking whore.

you peek through the peephole and feel your mouth drop, a masked figure wearing a long, black cape standing there imposingly; it’s not until you see the faint lock of long, black hair that you know who it is, using their (her) key to burst the door of your apartment. 

“gimme the mail! gimme the mail! i’m the hamburglar!”

you watch the girl with a blank expression on your face, eyeing her up and down and wondering when she had the time to do this after class.

“i had it in my car, i was gonna try to scare you,” she informs you, a smile pulling at your lips before you see an expression you know all too well cross her face - usually when she wants something, or when she knows she’s about to ask you to do something you’d rather not to do.

“but perhaps not as much as my next question, or request, really, is gonna scare you.”

“eunbi...” you whine, the girl ripping off her hamburglar attire as she looks at you with a smile.

“it’s nothing bad! i just... miss hanging out with you, right?” she quips, all types of innocent and bubbly as she looks at you. 

“it’s been a month and we don’t usually do that, you know? and what better way to reconnect than over a free dinner at a michelin star restaurant.”

“what’s the catch?” you ask, your eyebrow quirked suspiciously. 

“my parents will be there.” 

you don’t know who was more shocked when you walked into the restaurant at 6 p.m. - you, seonghwa or mrs. park, who took one look at you and just knew the tight black dress adorning your body was eunbi’s.

discomfort and anxiety swarmed within you at her tight, narrowed gaze, the hint of a smile that was on her face upon seeing her daughter dropping when she saw you. 

“i thought you told your mom i was coming,” you mumbled to eunbi, the girl’s arm linked with yours as you take in her mom’s appearance.

“i did,” she whispers back, tightening her hold on you immediately. “she’s just a bitch. have you forgotten?”

you have to stifle back a fake, pained laugh as you both move closer to the table, ignoring seonghwa’s gaze that you feel burning into you. you take the seat across from him, looking up and meeting his surprised but amused gaze for a split second.

“hi mom! hi dad!” eunbi chirps cheerfully, plopping down on the comfortable chairs of the restaurant beside you. “white wine? for us? you shouldn’t have.”

seonghwa smirks at his daughter, saying hello to her before his eyes move to you. 

it takes everything in him to not let his eyes rake over you, take in the tightness of the material on your waist and admire the way your hair falls perfectly; he even notices different makeup on you, so done up and pretty, he wants to stake his claim on you right here in this restaurant.

but instead, he pushes it down, so similiar to the sneaky, dismissive way he acted when he first saw you back in december.

“hello, y/n. how have you been?” he smiles, the twinge in his eyes causing your stomach to swoop - this feels forbidden and dirty, like his face wasn’t just buried between your legs a few days ago.

“good, mr. park, thank you,” you say, your eyes on him for probably a few seconds too long before you look at his wife beside him; if there’s a twinge of disgust and jealously, you quickly push it down.

“thank you for allowing me to join, mrs. park.”

“of course, although eunbi doesn’t give us much of a choice, does she?” she asks, a tight look on her pretty face that causes your smile to drop every so slightly. 

at the same time eunbi tightens her hold on your arm, both for your comfort and her own restaurant, seonghwa’s deep, warm voice is filling the space between you four. 

“the more, the merrier,” he smiles, his eyes roaming over your face. “you know you’re always welcome, y/n.”

you swallow down the growing lump in your throat, heart pounding in your chest as you look at the man with the best poker face in the word. 

“thank you,” you mumble, the waiter coming over and successfully ending the conversation.

your eyes nearly bulge as you look at the prices on the menu, not even knowing how to pronounce half of the food items. 

you feel uncomfortable and out of your element and it’s not at all helping that mrs. park is diagonal from you, her eyes boring into you like you’re some type of freak show. 

“i think you’d like this, y/n,” eunbi says, pointing to a few things on your menu. “we can just get two things and share it.”

you look to a her and she throws you a sneaky wink, bumping your shoulder playfully before turning her attention to her father.

“so, dad. spring break. where are we going?”

you listen quietly as eunbi and her father have banter back and forth, the serious but amused fatherly tone in seonghwa bringing a smile to your face. 

the relationship between seonghwa and eunbi is one you can’t help admire, how they’re both so alike in their kindness and genuineness and the way they don’t let wealth effect them. 

eunbi could tell her father anything and know he would never judge her. he would do anything for her and his family and he’s proved that time and time again - ever since the first day you met him. 

“if you girls ever get in trouble, if you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be or something’s happening that you feel uncomfortable with, call me,” he had said in your dorm room, his eyes on eunbi as he sees his child off on her first day of college. 

“you won’t get in trouble, bi. i just wanna make sure you’re safe, at all times. do you understand that?”

“yes, dad,” she whined, a pout on her face as she stares up at her father. “it’s not like we’re gonna do anything.... and get caught,” she adds, throwing a wink your way that you can’t help but smirk at.

“eunbi,” he groans, a serious, tiredness in his voice at the shamelessness of his daughter.

“i’m serious, dad, of course i know that,” she whines, “i think we both know i wouldn’t know what to do without you. especially if i only had miss bitch on wheels to deal with.”

“be nice to your mother,” he says despite the smirk on his lips, his gaze shifting to you. “the same goes for you, y/n. if eunbi’s ever getting too crazy, make sure to let me know. because any trouble you girls get into will probably be her doing.”

“that... is so fair,” eunbi says, throwing her arm around you cheerfully; it’s the first day and you still can’t get over how it feels like you’ve known her forever. how open and honest and comfortable you guys already are around each other. 

“but you don’t have to worry, dad. me and y/n are gonna be besties. and besties don’t rat out other besties.”

but besties also don’t sleep with their besties father’s four years later, shaking the thoughts away when you hear mrs. park spit out your name.

you gaze shifts to her as you smile at her, a shaky “yes?” leaving your mouth.

you expect to hear her mockingly ask what you’re getting for dinner, listen to you butcher the name of a fancy french meal and correct you like the bubbling idiot you are.

or maybe see if you’re gonna flunk out with your arts degree, tell her she told you so and that you should’ve done something more practical for your career.

the last thing you expect her to say though is the thing that freaks you out the most - you have to physically stop yourself from shuttering, hoping you don’t look as pale and haunted as you feel.

“that’s a... pretty necklace.”

your eyes widen as your eyes flick down to the chain, touching at it anxiously before sending her a tight, timid smile.

“thank you.”

“where did you get it?” she quips, her dainty, french-tipped fingers wrapping around the wine glass; she’s faintly remdining you of regina george.  

“i’ve been looking for something... simple like that.”

it feels like you could very well throw up right now, puke up your breakfast of yogurt and overnight oats right on this pristine table. seonghwa can see the anxiety all over your face, wanting to say something and come to your defense but also not wanting to draw suspicion.

and it’s like you know it too, your eyes flicking to him with the subtlest shake of your head.

“it was... it was at a little stand in the mall,” you explain, pink flushing on your cheeks in embarrassment. “the lady thought it would look nice with my earrings.”

“doesn’t it look so real?” eunbi chirps, buttering her piece of bread to perfection. “it was only 30 bucks! i thought for sure it was authentic diamond.”

“it certainly looks it, y/n,” mrs. park quips, your red lipstick not leaving a mark on the wine glass - how the hell does she even manage to do that? “seems like you got yourself quite a deal. are you sure you got it at a... stand in the mall, did you say?”

“what about cancun, bi?” seonghwa blurts out, looking to his daughter who snaps her gaze to him excitedly. “we haven’t been there in a few years. that’s tropical enough, right?”

“um, duh!” eunbi blurts out from beside you, her eyes moving from her dad to you beside her (unknowingly on the brink of an anxiety attack). “you’re coming too, right? oh my gosh, y/n, you have to! we will have so much fun!”

you can still feel mrs. park’s gaze boring into you as you sit there open-mouthed, gaze shifting from eunbi to seonghwa who’s watching you with a soft, barely readable expression.

“i... uhhh,” you stutter out, looking at eunbi’s excited, awaiting face. “i’d have to see how much flights are and stuff. rooms, too. i feel like it’d probably be kind of-

“you don’t have to worry about that! just your flight,” eunbi says, her eyes full of excitement and light that makes your stomach wrench even more. “you’ll just rent out a villa, right dad? jiwoon would come too, obviously.”

“obviously,” seonghwa rolls his eyes, his lips pulling into a smile until his wife’s voice rings in his ear. 

“it’s been a while since we’ve all been on a vacation, though, honey,” the woman says, her voice like nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “shouldn’t it just be a family thing?”

your eyes narrow not at her blatantly uninviting you, acting as if you’re not even hear to hear this, but the way her hand rests on seonghwa’s. her gaudy, jewelry-covered hand with long nails and a shiny wedding ring, right atop his. 

like it belongs there and like she’s far too intent on proving it does - which, you know, realistically, their husband and wife so she has every right.

but it doesn’t stop the sadness and insecurity and utter discomfort to flood through your body, watching her touch him and mumble to him and prove to the onlookers that that’s her husband beside her. 

“are you serious mom? y/n’s right here and you’re trying to kick her out? what is wrong with you?”

“i’m not doing that, eunbi, y/n understands, don’t you, love?” she asks, the pet name falling from her icy lips making you hold back a sneer. 

you meet her gaze and she holds it with an uncanny intensity, her fingers lacing through seonghwa’s causing him to give her a side eye.

“we just... haven’t been together as a family in a while, y/n. especially with eunbi away at school or her being with jiwoon all the time. we miss that quality family time.”

“i’m a grown ass woman about to graduate college, mother. i’m not going on vacation with just my parents like a child,” eunbi snaps, feeling like an ungrateful brat but, honestly, not caring. “that’d be so weird.”

“how would that be weird, it’d be like-”

“y/n and jiwoon are coming or you two can just go together. we’ll go somewhere else.”

“fine, maybe you should do that then,” mrs. park answers, just as childish and snappy as her petulant daughter. “me and your father could go. lord knows we haven’t gone anywhere since our honeymoon.”

“maybe because he can’t stand to be in the same room as-”

“enough,” seonghwa growls, his deep voice causing you to swallow the lump in your throat. “don’t be ridiculous, anyone is welcomed on our vacation. if eunbi wants to bring her friends, she can.”

seonghwa’s never been more grateful for the food to be brought to the table in his life, his hand pulling away from his wife’s just as the plates and bowls are placed down on the table.

he tries to meet your gaze for the rest of the night, his feet hitting yours like all the times you’ve played footsie under the table at his apartment or your many romantic dinner dates.

but you can’t stop the sinking feeling in your stomach right now, picking at the weird food you still can’t pronounce while being reminded of the fact that, tonight, seonghwa will be going home with his wife. 

“i’m sorry my mom was such a fucking bitch, as usual,” eunbi whines as you walk through the front door, throwing her bag down on the floor before flopping on the couch. “she really tried to kick you off the trip right in front of you. like? who does that!”

“i can’t say i blame her,” you mutter, curling in on yourself in the fluffy pink arm chair. “i already invaded her house during our winter break.”

“oh, fuck her, y/n! she doesn’t make the rules. i do!”

you let out a humorless laugh as your gaze shifts to eunbi, watching her lay out on the couch with a pout on her face.

“please come still. i know she might make you uncomfortable but i’m not gonna let that happen,” she says, her wide eyes looking at you with surety. 

“we’ll just ignore her and be at the beach 24/7. the bars there are also insane, we’ll have so much fun! we can even drink shit out of a coconut!”

another laugh leaves your mouth, this time a little more genuine and amused, as you look over eunbi’s smiling face - it only grows larger when you nod your head reluctantly, explaining that you really can only decide once you look up prices for flights.

“we’ll look tomorrow!” she promises, covering herself with a blanket before flicking through the channels of the tv. 

you stare blankly at the changing screen, the girl eventually landing on a rerun of a crime drama as you allow your mind to wander. 

thinking about all the things you try to avoid when you think of seonghwa - because while you can never forget he’s eunbi’s father, something you’re reminded of every day for obvious reasons, it’s easy to forget that he’s married.

that he’s somebody’s husband and promised to be there for her. he’s completely indebted to her and has built a life with her, technically having a loyalty to her he could never have to you. 

because when it comes down to it, when it really comes down to the logistics of what’s happening here, you’re the mistress.

you’re the young, naive college girl who’s eager to please him and keeps him feeling young. 

you’re the one who knowingly eyed him and touched him and flirted with him knowing he had a wife, did all of that right in her home with her just a few rooms away.

you’re the one who, if it came down to it, would ruin his life completely and put everything he worked so hard for at risk.

tears prick your eyes the more you think about the situation, the more these negative but realistic thoughts plague you until you hear vibrations coming from your bag. 

seonghwa [9:02 pm] come to the office. i need to see you.

you bite down on your lip as a lump forms in your throat, blinking away the tears and shaking your head as you lock your phone. 

you distract yourself with tv and comments from eunbi and the reminder that she’s your friend here, the person who’s been there for you the most but you’re betraying her the worst. 

especially when you hear your phone vibrate again, feeling the resolve break in you even before you even read his next message.

seonghwa [9:18 pm] please, baby. 

seonghwa knew the moment you walked in that you were faking a smile. greeting him with a quiet, shaky “hi,” that caused him to pull him into you. 

he let out a sigh of relief the moment you melted against him, his lips pressed against your head as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“thank you for coming,” he hummed into your ear, your head buried in his chest and quite intent on staying there. you swallowed the lump in your throat as you nodded against him, his hold tightening on your waist.

he didn’t like the look on your face all throughout dinner, nearly coughing up his wine when he saw you and eunbi walked in.

but then it was quickly obvious how uncomfortable you were, his wife’s nonstop snide comments and rude looks. the way you avoided his eye contact and subtle footsie kicks and the way you just didn’t wanna be there at all.

he hated that this is the position he’s put you in now, how unless it’s only you and him alone, you can’t seem to enjoy yourself. 

how you seemed to be insecure and upset all night, noticing the frown on your face when his wife would touch his hand or whisper nonsense in his ear.

“can you look at me please?” he asks, pulling back in hopes to meet your wide pretty eyes. 

but you only continue to stay buried in his chest, biting down on your lip so viciously, you think you might draw blood. 

it just doesn’t feel like you’ll be able to keep the tears at bay any longer, feeling so ridiculous and dramatic and like a whore - meeting seonghwa at his sketchy office apartment after sitting right in front of his wife and daughter two hours ago. 

his hand gently touches your chin, giving you a few seconds to move on your own before he lifts your head up.

his heart immediately sinks when he catches the look in your eye, sad and glossy and so utterly heartbreaking, it makes a frown pull at his lips.

“what happened?” he asks quietly, running his thumb along the smooth skin of your chin. “why do you look so sad, beautiful?”

your lips press together as a sob threatens to leave your mouth, moving your face out of his hold to swallow the lump in your throat. you take a few slow, calculated steps toward the large windows overlooking the city, taking in the dark sky and bright lights and small figures below.

people walking home from dinner or just starting their night out - some of them probably married couples or best friends, friends who have known each other for years and wouldn’t think to lie to each other so easily.

lie that you had to rush out because you accidentally deleted some photos off your camera and have to meet with your classmates to get them back immediately. 

“it’s her camera, she let me borrow it for the last of my project so i don’t know where the folder is,” you told eunbi in a panic, more so anxious about you and seonghwa opposed to your completed portfolio. 

you wonder if some people might even be like you and seonghwa, lovers in a twisted, secret affair, who are lying to the ones they love and hurting more and more people as they go on along with their lives. 

but as much as you struggle with this, as much as these thoughts torment you on some nights when you can’t sleep or when eunbi smiles at you a certain way, you can’t ever find yourself regretting it.

you can only be tormented between what’s morally right and what you feel you want. how to keep yourself the most happy and content you’ve ever been in your life. feeling the most loved and receiving the most care you’ve ever experienced before.

“i... i didn’t like that,” you mumble honesty, your eyes trained on the outside world as seonghwa slowly moves behind you. “i hate lying to eunbi and i hate feeling like what we’re doing is bad and forbidden.” 

you licks his lips as he hears the pain in your voice, biting down on his lip because he can understand completely - he feels the same exact way.

“but it’s a little sick that i hated see you with... her, more. because it reminded me that you also have a wife, seonghwa. e-even if you don’t like her and even if you guys aren’t technically... together, you still have a wife.”

“she hasn’t been my wife in years, y/n,” seonghwa says, his voice deep and soft as he stands directly behind you. 

his lips just graze your neck and you can feel his faint breaths against your skin. the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, keeping you warm and making you feel safe.

“we haven’t ever been in love or happy,” he confesses quietly, pressing himself closer to you. “we got married because of eunbi. and because our parents wanted us to. but we’ve never been like... a normal husband and wife.”

“but you still are,” you say, throat clogged with so much emotion and guilt. 

“you’re still husband and wife. you’re still indebted and loyal to her. and i’m just... in the middle of that. i’m the mistress at the end of the day. we have to lie and sneak around and hide, because we know this isn’t-”

“i want you,” he growls lowly, a gasp leaving your mouth as he pushes you against the cold, glass window. you know that no one can see you this high, not the couples or best friends below and not the onlookers in the apartments just as high as you. 

“i haven’t felt this way about anyone in my entire life, especially not her,” he mumbles, his hands traveling to your hips and squeezing gently. “and she hasn’t felt that way for me either. it was always for money, y/n. money and the image of a perfect little family.”

you bite back the sob threatening to leave your mouth, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his lips press small, feather-light kisses along your neck. you can feel the silent intensity in them, his ragged breathing trying to convey what he’s saying as pecks on your skin.

“if you ever want this to end, if you don’t l.... like me anymore, i’ll let you go,” he mutters, the very idea of it paining him to an unbelievable degree. “but if it’s because of her, or because you feel like we shouldn’t be together, i can’t do that, baby. we deserve to be happy.”

a tiny noise, a half cry and half laugh of some sorts, escapes your mouth and that’s when he turns you around. presses your back against the window and wipes at the faint, wet marks under your eyes. 

you look the most scared he’s ever seen you, scared of this discussion and scared of how serious the problem’s in this relationship is getting - but it’s not between you two, it’s all external. all the outside conflicts that make this relationship feel wrong and taboo.

“do i make you happy?”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel your heart jump, his dark eyes roaming you so intensely and so lovingly, it almost makes you burst into tears.

“that’s not the issue and you know-”

“do i make you happy?”

you lick over your lips as you met his gaze, tears threatening to cloud your vision as you stare back at his intense, unwavering gaze.

“yes, but-”

“but nothing,” he hums, his thumb on your cheek moving down to your mouth. he traces your lips with a gentle, sweet touch, eyes fixed on your teary gaze.

“you make me happier than i thought i could ever be,” he says, the sweet, loving words so foreign on his tongue. 

“i can’t have anything, or anyone, take you away from me, y/n. you’re mine, now. do you understand that?” he hums lowly, his head cocked to the side.

his words nearly make your knees buckle, the look that crosses your eyes quickly following your next movements - a soft, tentative brush of your lips against his, so slow and achingly sweet, it makes him hold back a groan.

his large hands cup your face as he meets the kiss, mouths parting and tiny groans leaving both of you until it turns desperate. his body pushing harder into yours so you’re pressed up against the cold window, mouths moving furiously and passionately against the other.

your hands find their way to his shoulders, feeling the material of his dress shirt stretched across his broad body until your fingers start toying with the buttons.

undoing them one by one until he’s shrugging off his shirt, standing there with his chest and abs exposed. black plants still covering his legs and desire staring right at you that shoots an ache between your thighs.

“i don’t ever wanna see you sad baby,” he mutters, his hands running up and down the curves of your body. “i don’t think you know how much it upsets me.”

you lick over your lips as a shaky breath leaves your mouth, a moan leaving your mouth when his hot tongue grazes your neck.

“i-i’m sorry,” you whine out, lust and desire quickly taking over your brain.

“don’t say sorry, baby,” he mumbles, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. he bites back a groan when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra underneath, large hands kneading at your chest when he grazes your hard nipple.

“tell me immediately when things are upsetting you,” he mumbles, his finger tweaking and rolling your sensitive nipple so skillfully. “don’t stay trapped in that pretty little head of yours. or look at me with such sad eyes from across the table that i feel like i’m gonna lose it.”

“i.. okay,” you mumble out, arching your back to push yourself more into the hands giving you so much pleasure. “okay, seonghwa.”

“other name,” he mumbles lowly, the hand not under your shirt making it way between your thighs - it might’ve been your biggest mistake or best idea to come here in pajama shorts, fluffy and white and so loose fitting, it’s almost too easy for his hand to slip between your legs.

“o-okay, mr. park,” you mutter, a whine escaping your mouth when he brushes against your clit.

he smiles upon hearing the noise he’s come to love and cherish, rubbing your nipple and flicking your clit as you’re splayed out against the window. his hands grip your shorts when it feels as if you’re about to come embarrassingly fast, ripping them down and allowing the cold air to hit your bare wetness.

he’s down on his knees and eating you out before you can even make another noise, a whine or protest or yelp of pleasure, your hand gripping his hair as he buries his face and licks around your clit.

teases and licks and sucks every part of you as you’re flush against the cold window, cries of “seonghwa” and “mr. park” and “oh, my god,” leaving your lips, his eyes looking up at you when he feels your hips bucking into mouth.

“you wanna come on my face baby?” he mutters, “come on my face like my good girl loves to do.”

but in a shocking turn of events, you push him away and pull him up by his hand, your lips meeting his in a quick, sloppy kiss before your hazy gaze meets his.

“fuck me,” you plead pathetically, voice breathy and whiney and far too begging. “please, seonghwa, i-i want you to fuck me.”

his eyes flash and you’re flat on the bed before you know it, the both of you naked and breathing heavy as he looms above you. his cock is hard against your leg but he makes no move to go further, his eyes staring into you as you look up at him desperately. 

“are you sure about this?” he mumbles, never having gone this far with you yet. “i... i need to make sure you want this for us. not because of... anything else,” he mumbles, your insecurities and sadness from before still lingering in the back of his lustful mind. 

but you shake your head as you crash your lips on his, trying to prove with everything in you that you want this. you want this for him and you and the utter need to solidify your genuine love - even if you’re not ready to tell him that yet.

“i want you,” you tell him honestly, tears of frustration and such profound need pooling in your eyes. “i’m yours and i want you, seonghwa.”

his eyes darken and he feels his heart pull in his chest, cock twitching the mere sight of you ready to take him.

he feels your core drenched and attempting to suck him in, lining up his cock and running his tip along your wet slit. 

“say it again,” he growls, rubbing his tip along your sensitive, soaking clit. 

“i-i’m yours and i want you, seonghwa,” you whine again, your eyes staring up at him so desperately, it’s hard not to just rail into you. 

but he still takes his time and pushes into you slowly, inch by inch and ridge by ridge as he lets out loud grunts at your tightness. 

“oh, my god, baby,” he groans, the arousal in his voice causing you to throw your head back in pleasure.

“you’re so tight, my love, holy fuck.”

you bite down on your lip when you feel his full length inside you, your core tightening and adjusting to him as he breaths heavily above you. looks into your eyes and sees in that moment you really do want him, the love and softness and light in them so obvious, it causes him to press a kiss to your lips.

moving inside you every so slightly, it causes both of you to moan out in unison.

“mo-move seonghwa, please,” you beg quietly, the feeling of being full so pleasurable. “i-i’m ready.”

his hips thrust in and out a few times, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at the same time you take short, ragged breaths.

“fuck,” you mutter, head thrown back in the pillow as you feel his body above yours. 

“you feel so full, don’t you baby?” he mumbles in your ear, his cock thrusting in and out of you slowly. 

you let out a whine as you nod your head frantically, widening your legs and moaning again as his thrusts start to pick up. hips snapping in and out as his own pleasure starts to overwhelm him, the feel of your tight pussy clenching around him nearly causing him to black out. 

“i’m stuffing this pretty pussy full of my cock, aren’t i?” he growls, the words leaving his mouth causing a loud, embarrassing moan to leave you. “it feels so good, you tightening around me and taking me so well. like this tight little pussy was made for me.”

“y-yes,” you cry out, the feeling of this and his words like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. “for you.”

“i know for me, baby,” he growls, his thrusts getting more and more intense as his pleasure builds. “for me and me only. because you’re all fucking mine.”

tears spring to your eyes when his finger comes down to rub at your clit, his cock hitting a spot inside you that has your legs shaking vigorously. your pussy tightening and spasming around him, every part of your body feeling like it’s tingling and on fire. 

“don’t come until i say so,” he growls, his thrusts becoming sloppy and harder. “want you coming when you’re stuffed full of my come.”

your eyes roll back as you try to hold back your orgasm, the sound of skin on skin slapping and your loud, combined moans making you shake your head from side to side.

“i-i can’t, seonghwa, please,” you cry out, the tightening in your core become more and more intense. “i... it feels too good, i have to-”

“come, baby girl,” he growls, his words feeling like they’re vibrating in your ear as his hips move sloppily. “come on my cock.”

your eyes roll back as you finally allow yourself to let go, his hot come releasing inside of you and making you feel incredibly warm and stuffed full of him. his cock is pulsing inside of you as he finsihes, thrusts long and lazy as he groans deeply in your ear.

and it’s with one final thrust that he pulls out of you, nearly collapsing on top of you before he rolls off at the last second. you can only lay there barely able to catch your breath, ears ringing and heart pounding as your eyes fall shut.

feeling so heavy and at ease and warm, it’s like you could easily fall asleep at any second.

you feel his lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, his deeply mumbled “you okay baby?” before you hear movement from beside you. warm water hits your thighs a few moments later, eyes popping open to see him cleaning between your legs.

a whine leaves your mouth as he lifts you up, walking you to the bathroom before plopping you down on the toilet; it all feels incredibly intimate and embarrassing despite what you just did, him looking at you on the toilet with flushed cheeks and messy hair. 

“pee,” he demands softly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches your cheeks flush. “oh, what, is this too much for you?”

you narrow your eyes before you swat at his naked body, a deep chuckle leaving your mouth before he sees himself out of the bathroom.

you wince as you feel his come dripping out of you as you pee, cleaning yourself up further and washing your hands before making your way back to the bed.

there’s a fresh set of sheets and a brand new comforter on the bed, his body resting on the headboard as he extends his arm out to you.

“come to me, baby,” he demands, your feet immediately moving to be beside him.

he adjusts your bodies until he’s flat on his back and you’re resting on his chest, tracing shapes and letters into his skin. a small content smile crosses his face as he feels the movements, the last three letters of is name causing him to let out a soft chuckle.

“seonghwa,” he repeats aloud, your neck craning up at him as you let out a soft giggle.

he presses a kiss to your head before turning his attention to you, bringing your face closer to his so he can press another peck on your nose. 

“i’m sorry again that you felt sad today,” he says, his hand running over your face gently. “i know it’s hard but we’re gonna figure it out, y/n. no matter what happens.”

and it’d be so easy to try and disregard his words.

get right back into your head about how wrong all of this is and how many people you’re betraying and lying to.

but the look in his eye and the tone of his voice makes it so hard to not believe him, everything about him so confident and loving, you, too, believe that you’ll be able to figure it out.

no matter what happens. 

“okay,” you mutter to him, your lips grazing his warm, broad chest. “i trust you.”

he smiles softly as he rises your face to his, pressing a long, lingering kiss on your lips that tastes like wine and sweat. 

“good,” he mumbles into your hair, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. like he has absolutely not intention on allowing you to leave tonight.

“stay over,” he demands softly, leaving no room for objection or protest. “i need you next to me tonight.”

but you don’t think you could leave him tonight even if you had to, cuddling closer into his side and nodding your head against his chest. 

you’re lulled to sleep by the sound of his breaths and kisses on your head, not hearing the three word confession he lets softly slip until he’s positive you’re fast asleep.

spring break - night one

“if i don’t have a pina colada in the next five seconds, i’m gonna throw a fit.”

“oh? and what would you call this?” jiwoon responds, his girlfriend tucked under his arm at the crowded outdoor bar. 

“i’m calling it my lousy boyfriend not getting me and my bff drinks, that’s what!” she squeals, poking at his arm roughly. “it’s bad enough you’re third wheeling us?”

“i’m third-wheeling you guys?!” the man scoffs, his eyes floating to you. “when did that happen?”

“about four years ago,” you respond, your four pina colada’s making you feel good. “a shame for you, honestly. we’ve felt bad, dragging it out, but she just can’t find it in her to leave you.”

“because of your pee pee,” eunbi respond crudely, a laugh bubbling of your mouth as jiwoon face palms his handsome features. “that’s what keeping me around honestly. certainly not your ability to get freakin drinks in a timely fash-

“three pina colada’s!” a friendly worker exclaims, walking over to your table and placing down the tall glasses; jiwoon can only look at you and eunbi with stares of distaste, half joking and half unamused as you both look at each other in guilt.

“did i say four years? i meant zero. i hate women. full of internalized misogyny over here.” 

“you’re so much more than your pee pee, that was in poor taste to say. i’m sorry, babe.”

“uh huh,” he hums lowly, looking over the both of you with amusement in his eyes. “just drink your shit and don’t vomit on me.”

“cheers!” you and eunbi exclaim, waiting until jiwoon clinks his glasses with yours to enjoy the taste of strong rum and coconut. 

you had come up with the money for the flight much to eunbi’s pleasure, the girl wrapping you in a big, dramatic hug and jumping up and down; you wondered if she’d feel the same way if she found out how you got the money, seonghwa handing you $5,000 to put in your account to “enjoy your spring break together.”

“seonghwa, i cannot accept this, are you crazy?” you yelp at him in the morning light, the two of you naked in his apartment as he gets ready to go down to work.

you guys had had a deep, long conversation about if you felt comfortable enough to go on a week-long vacation with him, eunbi and mrs. park, his hand in yours as he rubbed at your skin and confessed he really wanted you to go.

“she has friends there so we won’t have to be too careful,” seonghwa told you, his lips pressing against your head. “and you’ll probably be with eunbi and jiwoon a lot anyway. i just want you to have fun, baby. you deserve a vacation.”

and when you were about to let out a sigh, tell him thanks but you don’t know if your nerves can handle that, he pulled you in close to his warm nude body to wrap his rms around your waist.

“you always wanted to go there, yeah?” he hummed, recalling your conversation from months back in his dining room. “cancun or the maldives.”

you pull back to look at him with a smile, the hint of amusement and mischief on his face causing you to stare at him in shock.

“i... can’t believe you remember that,” you tell him, smacking him in the abs lightly. “is that why you recommend that? was that your plan?”

he just mysteriously shrugged, letting out a chuckle and pulling you in for a kiss when you rolled his eyes. 

you left his office that day incredibly reluctant and on edge, the stack of money in your now fat wallet leaving like a thousand pounds - but he wouldn’t let you leave if you didn’t. 

“please let me take care of you, baby.”

“please, eunbi, let me take care of you,” jiwoon’s voice utters a few hours later, the girl leant against the wall just outside their shared room - you were able to pay for your very own room, no part of you wanting to share with the extremely loud and extremely horny couple currently stumbling around.

“you’re dr-drunk, too, jiwoon,” eunbi spats, giggling when she stumbles over and hits into his hard chest. “who-who are you take care of me?”

“you are such a brat, it’s not even funny,” the man mumbles lowly, his hold on her tightening as you let out a sigh - you just wanna go down the hall to your own room. you’re tired and don’t feel like watching the foreplay that is a dominant jiwoon and petulant eunbi.

“are you gonna brat tame me, tough guy?” she giggles, her body pressing up against his as her hands run through his slicked back hair. “i think i need you to tie my hands behind my-”

“alright, yeah, i’m going to my room,” you blurt out, jiwoon’s face flushing, like he completely forgot about your presence, while eunbi’s face snaps to you with a pout.

“y/n... stay with us, jiwoon can sleep at the bottom of the bed,” she whined, the man’s protesting falling on deaf ears.

“absolutely not,” you giggle out, patting her on the head like an exhausted but loving mother. “i’m sleepy anyway. i just wanna go to bed.”

“how-how can you when you have that beautiful jacuzzi?” she hums lowly, her lustful eyes turning to her boyfriend patiently waiting. “in fact, i think i just gave myself an idea.”

“you go do that,” you encourage with a smirk, “rock his world.”

she throws her head back in laughter before jumping on jiwoon without warning, the man nearly crumbling to the floor as he catches her last second. you watch the couple clumsily move and argue lightheartedly down the hall before disappearing into their room.

you make your way to the other side of the villa, escaping into your empty room decorated with accents of cream and blue - it reminds you a lot of seonghwa’s apartment, the view of the city and high skyscrapers exchanged for the long stretch of sand and ocean.

you plop down on your bed with a groan, stretching your arms above your head as you let out yawn; you want nothing more than to go to sleep right now but you feel sweaty from the humidity and gross from the plane, rolling to your feet to peek your head in the bathroom.

you and eunbi nearly fainted when you first looked at the jacuzzi, a beautiful beige structure with a small circular window showcasing the view outside. you turn the hot water on before your tired body can even register it, the thought of sinking into a hot, bubbly bath all too good right now,

and the idea seems even better when you her your phone ping in the other room, checking your phone and a smile lighting up your face as you run toward the door.

seonghwa snakes his body inside the moment you open, pressing his finger to your lips before closing the door gently and replacing it with his lips. you meet the kiss with a smile, a content hum leaving your mouth.

he can taste the coconut on your lips and nothing’s ever been so addicting, tongue slipping in your mouth as he grips your hips tightly. 

“you taste good.”

“it’s the five pina coladas,” you giggle, taking his hand in yours and pulling him toward the bathroom. he hears the rush of water coming from the tub, excitement bubbling up inside him as he gives you a suggestive look.

“you taking a bath?”

“we’re taking a bath,” you bite back lowly, your teeth sinking into your lip as you pull your dress over your head. his eyes wrack your body in a lace bra and matching panties, cock already hardening at you standing half naked in front of him. 

he does the honors of unhooking your bra and pulling down your thong, leaving a trail of kisses to your inner thighs before telling you to wait for him in the bath.

you gather towels and your robe before dipping your foot in, the water hot and steamy but just what you need you sink your body in and let out a content moan, your sleepy drunkenness only making the warmth feel even better.

your eyes are shut as you press the button for the jets, water massaging your back before you hear seonghwa’s footsteps pad back in to the room.

his own clothes are discarded now, his cock hard and waiting in the air with two shots of rum in hand - you have a feeling you won’t be able to stomach alcohol or coconut after this trip.

but it makes you excited now, reaching out your hand and thanking him sweetly. 

you throw back the alcohol as your eyes remain on him, watching him sink into the hot water and let out a content sigh.

you crawl your way over until you’re in his lap, his hard length underneath you just as satisfying as it is arousing. 

you meet the kiss with a smile, tongue slipping in his mouth as you push yourself up against him. he lets out a groan at your intensity, the way you’re gripping onto his shoulders and rutting your hips against his hard length.

“remember when you drunk called me?” he mumble in your ear, smiling at the memory that started all of this. “let the news slip that i’m a dilf and you felt my cock?”

“shut up,” you whine against his mouth, your hands slipping between your legs to jerk him off lazily. “i had to make a move somehow.”

he lets out a groan as your hand wraps around his length, skillfully moving up and down, hissing when you pass the tip of his hard, aching cock. he slips his fingers between your own legs a few seconds later, playing with your clit before curling two fingers inside you. 

you let out a moan as you attempt to ride his fingers, all the alcohol and hormones coursing in you making you unbelievably horny and ready to attack him. 

“wanna ride you,” you mutter, letting out a moan when he focuses on your clit. 

“then sit on my cock, baby,” he groans lowly, forcefully moving you all on his own. “wanna stuff your pretty little pussy.”

you throw your head back at his words, pussy tightening and nipples hardening in the cold air. his eyes catch the shot of rum behind your head, taking the glass and throwing it back before his hand twists in your hair.

you look about him dumbly, about to ask what he’s doing and to please let you ride him before he pulls your head down to his level, jaw and mouth tipped back in the air.

his mouth is just above your own, glossy, dark eyes staring into your wide, lustful ones before he spits the rum in your mouth. you nearly choke on it when a gasp threatens to escape, the wetness building between your legs going unnoticed in the hot bath water.

you can only continue to watch, lust building and a whine threatening to leave you as the strong rum and his spit start to mix in your mouth. he pulls back with a satisified smirk, watching your chest heave and gaze turn hot before he crashes his lips onto yours. 

it feels like you’re outside of your own body, completely transforming into someone else when you sink down on his cock and bite down on his shoulder to hold back a moan.

bouncing and grinding and swiveling your hips on his cock, his own groans and moans and curses muffled into your chest. his tongue flicks at your nipple and everything about this moment is pure animalistic lust. 

the two of you getting off on each other and building for the other’s pleasure. your hips rocking and bouncing and his tongue swiveling, hands pulling at your ass before he begins to fuck up into you.

the water is sloshing all around you and onto the floor, your own hand reaching out so the stream of water can muffle your sounds. 

“seonghwa, oh, my god,” you moan out quietly, throwing your head back in the most amount of pleasure you’ve ever felt. it feels like his cock is in your lower stomach, quite literally rearranging your guts as you bounce and welcome the shooting pleasure.

“i’m filling you up good, right baby?” he grunts out, his hips frantically fucking up into you. “you take my cock so fucking well, baby.”

you can only moan out pathetically as your thighs start to burn, crying out pornographically as you start to feel your pussy tighten and thighs shake. you feel his thrusts become sloppy before his own groans begin, his release emptying inside you as you feel warm and full of come.

you ride out both of your highs in the form of gentle, light movements, sitting down on top of him and making sure he bottoms out so he fills you up completely. 

and it’s like he knows what you’re doing too, pulling you down into a kiss so he can groan into your mouth and mumble sweet nothings. sit there with his cock still inside you and the hot water around, jets still sloshing water around as the both of you catch your breaths.

your head is resting against his wet chest, eyes feeling heavy and body feeling exhausted as the drunkenness and alcohol get to you. 

it doesn’t stop him from washing your body to the best of his ability, turning you around so your back presses up against his chest. water sloshes around you as he mumbles in your ear, telling you to raise your arms or lift your leg so he can wash the majority of your body. 

“how ‘bout your hair, my love?” he mumbles, your head falling against his chest as you shake your head. 

“will wash in the morning,” you mutter, seonghwa nodding his head as lifts you up and steps out of the tub carefully. the floor is soaked and slippery so he moves cautiously, bringing you all the way to your bed and placing your body down gently. 

he takes a seat on the comforter and runs his fingers through your hair gently, not being able to help himself when he crawls in next to you. 

you hum happily with a sleepy smile on your face, letting out a content groan as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“how was your first day in cancun, baby?” seonghwa mumbles, his chest warming when you pull yourself closer to him. you’re cuddled into his side, clinging to his arm like a little koala completely dependent and vulnerable. 

“mm good,” you mumble, not even having the energy to open your eyes. “fun. it’s hot. and... i like the jacuzzi.”

he lets out a loud chuckle as he nods his head, pressing a kiss to your head as he, too, agrees that he really likes the jacuzzi. 

spring break - day three

if there was anything getting you through this dinner, you, jiwoon, eunbi, seonghwa and mrs. park all sitting around the table outside, it was the endless strawberry daiquiris on deck. 

it was the one cohesive activity you guys planned on doing with each other, mr. and mrs. park (but mostly seonghwa you’re sure) insisting they take you out at least once. 

“you still have to wear sunscreen, mom, you’re gonna be a wrinkly mess when you’re older.”

“please, not with the amount of face creams and lotions i have, eunbi,” mrs. park remarks, her daughter rolling her eyes as she snatches up an appetizer chip. 

“you completely counteract it, you hag. wasting all of dad’s money just to burn away in the sun.”

“you seem to forget it’s my money too,” the woman sneers, sunglasses worth more than your tuition perched on top of her head. “we work in the same field, have you forgotten that?”

eunbi rolls her eyes as she ignores the woman entirely, turning her attention to jiwoon who’s currently stuffing his face. 

you would’ve been sitting there a lot more unnerved if it weren’t for your daiquiris, probably what’s making you so bold right now to play footsie with seonghwa under the table. 

he shot you a look after the third time you did it, eyebrow quirked and a low scoff leaving his mouth as he narrows his eyes at you; but when you did it again, dragged your foot up his leg until it was nearing his thigh, he let out a cough before asking eunbi about your plans for tomorrow.

“you guys going to the beach again?” he asked, his voice strangled and deep causing you to bite back a smirk. 

“i think so!” eunbi chirps happily, looking over to your body next to her. “right, y/n?”

you smile at the girl as you nod your head, your eyes moving from her back to seonghwa, who’s watching you with a slightly unrestrained gaze. something that would usually make you feel nervous if you weren’t having so much fun, the tight look in his eye and they way it looks like he’s about to break.

“yeah, we’ll be at the beach mr. park,” you tell him, voice completely polite and neutral but your eyes holding a different type of desire. something teasing and soft and playful, your foot trailing back on his leg as he takes a sip from his drink.

“me and my friends are going to the spa,” ms. park remarks, your eyes not even bothering to look at her. “would you wanna come eunbi? i think their daughters might be joining us, too.”

your friend looks to you with a curious expression, no part of her wanting to be with her mother but a full body massage or seaweed wrap sounding ah-mazing right about now. 

“y/n, would you wanna go?” eunbi chirps, “we deserve a nice massage. i think they even do manis and pedis.”

you look to eunbi and she can tell immediately that the answer is gonna be a no, your eyes finally flicking to mrs. park to see her unamused expression. bored and blank and utterly disgusted by your presence, lips pulled into a tight line that she forces into a fake smile. 

“whatever you wanna do eunbi,” you mumble, moving your gaze back to the girl. “i have some extra money so i’m good to do whatever.”

you feel seonghwa’s foot kick you from underneath the table, your eyes flicking up to see a playful expression on his face. your lips pull into a soft smile, eyes immediately dropping so you don’t stare at him for too long. 

“yay! that’ll be so fun then!” eunbi claps excitedly, “maybe dad and jiwoon could go golfing or something.”

“maybe we want a massage too,” jiwoon says, seonghwa raising his beer and pointing toward the man a the end of the table. 

“the man’s right. we deserve them, too.”

“then let’s all go!” eunbi squeals, mrs. park rolling her eyes as she takes a sip of her wine. “dad, i think you would like a fish pedicure! sweet little fish swim around and eat away at all the disgusting-”

“i was kidding, bi,” seonghwa chuckles, rising to his feet and standing tall - his arms are out and tanned from the past few days in the sun. “and i don’t think i’d like fish eating my feet. is the bathroom inside?”

“no, mr. park, we actually have to piss in the ocean.”

seonghwa looks to jiwoon who’s smiling at him like a wise ass, seonghwa flicking a chip at him before he rounds the table. a waiter passing by with food comes down the same aisle outside, seonghwa pressing up against your back to make room.

it’s nothing to either of you, the contact so familiar and comfortable that neither of you even flinch. his hands rest on your shoulders and you only tense the slightest bit, eunbi and jiwoon distracted by the mention of fish pedicures to notice.

but because you try to avoid her like the plague, you don’t notice mrs. park’s gaze.

her lips pursed and cat-like eyes studying the both of you, intently watching as seonghwa’s eyes soften and he quietly mumbles an apology. 

how easy and natural your touches and smiles are.

you lift your head up to stare up at him, both of your eyes twinkling and soft and full of such affection, the smile lighting up your face ensuring the woman’s previous suspicions are correct.

something seems to be going on between her husband and her daughter’s best friend.

spring break - night five

it was like you and seonghwa almost got a little too lucky - mrs. park going out with her friends the same night eunbi and jiwoon were busy with date night, leaving the both of you to do whatever you wanted for the night.

you didn’t think it was smart to frolic around the town or beach, where they could very well spot you with ease, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun.

you stayed in your room together watching tv and kissing playfully, all very juvenile and casual as you currently laid out next to him. you and eunbi were at the beach all day, a slight burn on your skin that left your body incredibly drained.

it was just the lazy night you needed, the windows cracked open so the salty air could blow through the room.

“you gotta be careful, baby, sunscreen is key,” seonghwa mumbles, his lips trailing along your shoulder and neck as the tv plays in the background. “how do you think i look so good at thirty nine? a dilf, some would sa-”

“shut up!” you squeal with a giggle, smacking him in the stomach as you roll on top of him. 

he sits back on the bed with a smile, admiring the view of you on top of him and your pretty, smiling face. your skin is glowing from the days of sun, hair still damp from your shower and falling perfectly. 

“i should’ve just kept my mouth shut. you obviously let it get to your head.”

“i’m not agreeing with you, i’m just reminding you,” he hums, his hands running up and down your sides gently. “in case you ever get sick of being with an old man like me.”

a pout makes its way on your face as you cock your head to the side, meeting his hands on your waist and keeping them there firmly. 

“i won’t get sick of you and you’re not old,” you say, a smile lighting up his face as he holds back a chuckle - he was only kidding (mostly) but he’d be lying if he said the reassurance didn’t make him feel good.

“kiss me,” he demands, pulling you down and meeting your lips before giving you a chance to answer.

but he’s lucky that you never seem to get tired of him. never get tired of kissing him or spending time with him or laughing with him. 

you never get tired of your long conversations and obnoxious banter, the way he can switch between a distinguished business owner or flirty, playful man not only impressive but incredibly sexy.

he never gets tired of the way you make him realize everyday he’s been missing something in his life. having someone and something that makes his life seem that much more fulfilling and worth it, someone he knows cares about him the same way he cares about you. 

he never gets tired of how young you make him feel, keeping him up till all hours of the morning he used to never be able to make. 

“are we even allowed to be here?” he whispers hours later, the night sky pitch dark and his hand intertwined with yours.

“why?” you quip, whipping your head back to raise a playful eyebrow at him. “are you scared, mr. park?”

his eyes narrow before he pulls you into him, grabbing you around the waist as a loud giggle leaves your mouth.

you both changed into your bathing suits when you decided to have an impromptu trip to the beach, expressing your want and desire to go night swimming at least once in your life. 

and you’re thankful that you did, because seonghwa charged into the (surprisingly warm) clear ocean with zealous you’ve never seen. your giggles loud and booming through the beach before he throws you down, catching you right before you go under.

you wrap your legs around his waist and press a long kiss to his lips, smiling against them as he goes out as far as he can stand - not wanting anyone to see what he’s about to do to you right in the caribbean sea.

his fingers move your bikini bottoms to the side, your face buried in his neck as he curls his fingers in your pussy. he smiles as each and every moan is muffled by his skin, his thumb playing with your clit as his cock hardens painfully in his shorts.

“you like that, baby?” he hums lowly, a different type of thrill coursing through him at doing this right in the open. just looking like a couple swimming and hugging in the ocean, when really, he’s knuckle deep and hitting your g spot. 

“you’re always so good for me. i wanna bury my cock in this wet pussy right now, pretty girl,” he growls, aching and growing more and more in his wet bottoms. 

“it’s like you were made for me, baby. i fill up your pussy so good, don’t i?”

“yes,” you cry out, your feet wrapped around him trying desperately to push his bathing suit down. you find it desperate and frustrating and annoying but he finds it so utterly humorous. 

watching you move against him in hopes of getting his cock out.

“are you that desperate for it?” seonghwa asks, his voice deep and gruff, with a bite you’ve only ever heard a few times; it makes more wetness release and drip down his fingers.

“trying to get my pants down so i can finally fuck you, is that it?” he hums, his hand pulling at the back of your head so you can look at him. 

your scalp stings but it makes you let out a moan, the aggression and lust on his face causing tears of pleasure to well in your eyes.

“y-yes, mr. park,” you cry out, a smirk pulling at your own lips when removes his fingers from your pussy and releases his cock. he pulls his pants down just enough for it to spring out, placing you down on him and groaning when you’re wet and tight around him.

the ocean splashes around you and, if anyone could see from the shore, it might be pretty obvious what’s going on. water rippling around you and your body moving up and down his, your moans muffled in his neck and his groans quiet and low. 

he comes just as hard as he always does when he’s with you, learning and worshipping your body so well over these past few months. you slack against him for a few moments, catching your breath before jumping down and splashing water at him.

he doesn’t know how you still have so much energy, bouncing around and splashing water at him with loud chuckles and teasing comments.

but he supposes it makes sense because, when you guys sneak back into the villa and quietly make your way into your room, you’re nearly dead on your feet. collapsing into him and whining tiredly against him, all the alcohol from this week and exposure to the sun completely draining you. 

you watch the waves outside and the ocean you just fucked in, the pretty night sky casting the faintest hint of light on your faces. he wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his lips to your shoulder, the two of you swaying in your room quietly and peacefully.

he’s never felt as at ease and relaxed as he does with you. he wants to go on a vacation with just you and him, thinking about how great it would be to actually go out on dates and sleep in the same room together. 

“i wish i didn’t have to leave,” he mumbles in your ear, a frown on your tired face as you turn in his hold.

“you don’t have to,” you tell him, fingers toying at his shirt shyly. 

his heart breaks ever so slightly, a frown on his face as he raises yours to his. the look in his eye tells you everything you need to know, that, yes, he has to go back because it’d be way too suspicious if he didn’t. 

and you both also know eunbi has a habit of just barging in here, unable to have another incident like the one at your apartment weeks ago.

you let out a sigh as you nod your head, his lips pressing against your forehead sweetly. you lean your body into him until he has to catch you, a smirk on his face as he picks you up and brings you to bed.

he stripes you of your damp bikini before slipping a t-shirt over your body, hands trailing up and down your legs until you’re fast asleep. he makes a mental note to send breakfast to your room tomorrow morning, always feeling bad and gutted when he can’t spend the night with you. 

his wife is already in the room fast asleep, sleeping on the side closest to the door.

seonghwa disappears into the bathroom to change in pajamas, leaving his wet suit on the balcony outside before slipping into bed; it’s funny that, even in their sleep, the two are as far away from the other as possible.

seonghwa sleeping straight and tall and mrs. park with her back to him, the couple with so much history and shared experiences becoming more and more like strangers every day.

the only thing that mrs. park knows is that seonghwa has never seemed this happy in his life, a different kind of glint in his eye and smile on his face she knows has never been there his entire life with her. 

she also can’t help but think his wet bathing suit is suspicious when she wakes up in the morning, looking at her sleeping husband with her lips pursed in thought. 

would he really be stupid enough to cheat on her?

spring break - day seven

“okay, okay, where’s our next vacation, y/n?” eunbi asks on the flight home, her head on your shoulder and jiwoon passed out in the window seat.

“bi, we literally just left two hours ago,” you chuckle, looking at the girl with amusement in your eyes.

you didn’t realize how much you needed this vacation until you realized how relaxed you were. holding onto less anxiety about you and seonghwa and, instead, feeling a twinge of hope in your chest.

you’re going back home with only a few weeks left in the semester, about to start your real career and pursue a dream you’ve worked toward despite the challenges you faced.

you have a strong relationship, although fucked up and forbidden, that’s made you feel the happiest and most loved you’ve ever felt in your life.

and you have a best friend in eunbi, the girl currently chatting on your shoulder as she plans not only your combined graduation party but summer vacation together. 

“we could have, like, a real graduation party. something more low-key at my house,” she explains, “unless you wanna go away again. i’m totally cool with that too! but i think if we did a tour around europe during the summer, that’d be ideal. get to see everything and pull some eat pray love shit.”

you let out a snort as you nod your head, patting eunbi on the head half lovingly and half please-shut-up-and-let-me-sleep.

“whatever you wanna do, eunbi,” you tell her with a small smile. “we have time for all of this, you know.”

she smiles upon hearing your words, cuddling her head into your shoulder despite the fact that her boyfriend is right beside her. 

“you know what, you’re so right,” the girl says, sharing some of her blanket with you as she finds her eye mask. “we’re gonna be bffs! we could go to all the countries if we want.”

before eunbi puts her mask on, she catches her parents a few rows up in a heated argument. her mom with narrowed eyes and an evil look on her face, pointing back toward where the three of you are sitting.

she catches her dad’s expression and doesn’t know what to make, his eyes moving in the same direction before he smiles upon making eye contact with her. she shakes off the weird feeling inside of her as she waves to her father, covering her eyes and cuddling further into your body.

it was two days after the cancun trip that mrs. park started questioning seonghwa.

the piece of jewelry around your neck, the wet bathing suit from 3 a.m., the lingering looks between him and y/n that had her convinced something was going on.

he hadn’t denied it when she called out the $10,000 in his office doorway either, simply looking at his wife with a bored expression when she whipped out the credit card receipt. 

“she’s eunbi’s friend, what was i supposed to do?” he asks, “her scholarship fell through and she didn’t have the money. i do.”

his eyebrow quirks at the bitter scoff that leaves her mouth, eyes rolling as a look of disbelief covers her face.

“she’s eunbi’s friend,” she laughed out, her eyes turning crazy and narrowing as she looks at her husband. “she’s a charity case and you gave in to her. she’s been trying to drain money out of our daughter since they first met.”

“watch your mouth.”

"it’s the truth,” she laughs out, the disgust behind her eyes causing an inconceivable amount of rage to build in seonghwa - and it’s like she can see right through that, her cat-like eyes roaming over seonghwa all she needs to know her next statement is as correct as she suspected.

“and then you went and made her your mistress, didn’t you?” the woman asks, her laugh like nails on a chalkboard when his face drops.

“maybe you can clue me in on how that one happened, mr. park.”

(part 3)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich  @baekhvuns @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @silent-potato @tinyverse-writes​ @nycol-ie @lovesickhwa @toothlessshiber @ateezinmymind​ @utopiakys​ @hyenoir​ @nari-nim​ @hoonswrld​ @jin-neck-shaft​ @that-one-multi​ @hwahomie​ 

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @marksflvr @thiccseokmin @yunho-bby @arkive78 ​@se-onghwa @yookihyunie

[jcwriting]

Written in the Stars

summary ↬ being soulmates with a werewolf? pretty easy. being jungkook’s soulmate? the easiest thing in the world. there’s only one teensy tiny problem. he doesn’t want to fuck you.

pairing ↬ werewolf!jungkook x reader

genre ↬ soulmate!au, abo verse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (this is so fucking dramatic and for what)

word count ↬ 10.4k my hand slipped

warnings ↬ swearing, angst (but with a happy ending bc im a sappy bitch), jk is stupid in love (emphasis on stupid), mentions of violence (very brief and i don’t go into too much detail but just to warn yall), slight nsfw (sex is a big topic for like half of this but not sex is had...i know im shocked too), half of this is background info/setting up the story the other half is finally addressing the summary lolol, jk is kind of an asshole but he has reasons!!!!!

authors note ↬ hello lovelies! here’s a small little thing for you all (laughs in 10k word count). this has been sitting in my drafts for fucking ever and i just needed to get it out there and out of my hands. im thinking about writing a part two where the actual ~*/sex/*~ is had but im still on the fence about that. please let me know what you think! i literally crave your interactions so pls dont be shy,,,,,okay love you bye :)

(ps i was so close to naming this Rewrite the Stars but since this has absolutely nothing to do with The Greatest Showman i didn’t. but i was close,,,,so fucking close)

You always knew Jeon Jungkook was destined for great things.

It was written in the stars, your mother had told you after he had first stepped foot into your family-owned grocery store. Your mother didn’t have any special powers, she just had a thing for astrology. While you normally shrugged off her random proclamations about divine intervention and planetary alignments, you found that Jungkook was something you couldn’t ignore or chalk up as your mother’s latest tea leaf reading.

From the moment you set eyes on him you knew he was different. While your family held zero claim to any sort of mystical or magical inclinations, you were well aware of those who did. It was no secret that non-humans roamed the Earth in plain sight, even though it had taken humans eons to realize this. After years of savage wars and civil unrest, agreements had come into place and governing bodies were adjusted to accept the changes that had finally been made. But, this was all before your time. You were the generation that was born into the period of peace, the first children to not experience bloodshed before they could walk. The world you knew now was almost a complete one-eighty of what it had been.

Where before those who were not of human blood had to do everything they could to blend in, now could be free of the shadows. Your classrooms had both humans and non-humans in their rosters. Some of your teachers were hybrids. Curriculum expanded to teach humans about a world that had once been entirely unknown to them. One of your favorite teachers was a witch who regaled your tenth grade class with stories of goblin wars, wizard duels, and vampire covens. All tales that you had once thought were nothing but fiction were now anything but.

Which is why, the second Jeon Jungkook entered the grocery store that your parents owned and that you had worked at since you were old enough to speak in full sentences, you knew who he was. You didn’t even question it.

He was a werewolf. A powerful one. You could see it in the way he carried himself. The purposeful strides he took down the narrow aisles, the confidence in his broad shoulders. Humans weren’t nearly as sensitive as their hybrid counterparts but you also paid attention in your classes. Or, perhaps you were more aware than other humans. Never in your life did you have the issues other faced when meeting a non-human for the first time. You always knew who they were without them having to tell you. You just knew.

So, when Jeon Jungkook stepped up to your register with a bottle of water and some raw beef, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t bend under his dark gaze or shuffle your feet in an awkward attempt to break the silence. Instead, you flashed him your customer service smile and rang up his items. He didn’t say a word as he paid, barely sparing you a second glance as he strode out of the store.

“He’s going to be a great and powerful man,” your mother said in that feathery light voice of hers. “It was written in the stars.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

Jeon Jungkook came into your store everyday for the next month. He bought the same thing every time. A bottle of water and a package of raw beef. The only time he spared you any words was to say thank you or the occasional hello if the sun was shining. Usually, he was alone. Sometimes, he came with a few members of his pack. You liked those days. He smiled a little brighter and talked a little louder when they were around. Especially around Taehyung.

Then, after a month, he didn’t come in. Not for an entire week. From Monday to Sunday, you hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him. A part of you was worried, so worried that you almost stopped Taehyung in the middle of the street to ask of Jungkook’s whereabouts before realizing how insane that made you look, the other part was chastising yourself for caring. Jeon Jungkook was a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

The following Monday had come and you had finally stopped glancing at the sliding doors every five minutes. You no longer expected his commanding presence to rock your little world. Instead, you continued your day as if it had been any other. That was, until, Jeon Jungkook stepped through the entrance looking as if he was walking on air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Did you have a good heat?” You asked when he stepped up to your register. Jungkook fumbled the water bottle he had been setting onto the conveyer belt before turning to stare at you.

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t shrink under his intense glare. “I was asking if you enjoyed your heat. Seems like you did.”

“How do you know I was in my rut?”

“Oh, is rut the correct terminology? Sorry, they always interchanged them in class, I was never sure what was appropriate.” You shrugged and rang up his items. “It was kind of obvious, though. You seemed pretty agitated about a week-and-a-half ago, then you disappear for a week, and now you’re back looking happier than ever. If it wasn’t your rut then I want to know where you went on vacation because that’s where I’m heading to next.”

Jungkook laughed. That almost made you jump out of your skin. You had never heard him laugh before. It was throaty, it was deep, and it was wonderful. “I’ll be sure to send you the link to the Airbnb.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He smirked. “I’m here every day, aren’t I?”

You tilted your head as you accepted the cash he handed to you. “Clearly, you’re not that reliable.”

Jungkook laughed again. It was becoming your new favorite sound. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to appear flaky.”

“You’re forgiven,” you decided as you handed him the plastic bag of his purchases. Teasingly, you added, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He flashed you a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry, darling. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Jeon Jungkook kept his promise. He showed up everyday, like clockwork. Bought the same thing. Arrived at the same time. The only thing that changed was how he treated you. It wasn’t that he treated you badly before, he had always been polite. But now, he talked to you. He asked you questions and answered yours. More often than not, he laughed.

(It had become your favorite sound.)

For three months, this continued. The two of you had settled into a comfortable routine, something you relied on and expected. Until, he changed that.

Until, Jeon Jungkook asked you out on a date.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you free? Tonight?” You glanced around, almost expecting to see some sort of supermodel posing behind you to explain the absolute absurdity of the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the hidden cameras. I think I’m getting Punk’d.”

Jungkook sighed and placed both hands on the counter that separated the two of you. “Look at me.” You did. Slowly and warily, but you did. “Does it look like I’m lying to you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you regarded him carefully. He seemed serious. But, then again, do you ever really know someone? “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen you lie before so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Fine. Ask me what color my shirt is.”

“What color is your shirt?”

“White,” he deadpanned. You glanced down at his chest. His shirt was black.

“Jungkook!”

He threw his head back and released a full bellied laugh. Even in your exasperation you couldn’t help but soften a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t help myself.” Annoyed, you huffed and spun to face the cash register. Stabbing your finger onto the touchscreen, you ignored Jungkook’s obvious presence on the opposite side of the counter. Until his hand reached around the card reader and grasped a hold of your chin. The warmth of his fingers forced your head to turn to meet his.

“Come to dinner with me.” His voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, his eyes so black and all-consuming you couldn’t do anything but agree with him. He seemed pleased by your response as his fingers tightened against your skin and a grateful smile flicked past his lips. His gaze darted down to your mouth and your breath froze in your chest.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t allow you much movement. He was taken aback by your answer, a small frown tugging at his mouth. You quickly backtracked to fix the situation. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a grocery store. That’s a new low that I refuse to reach.”

Jungkook chuckled and tapped your chin gently. “Alright, darling. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Again, he kept his promise to you. He showed up at your parents house exactly at seven, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. The tulips he had gotten for you was thrust into your hands the moment you opened the door. Flashing him a genuine smile, you hurried into the kitchen to set them in water while your mother grilled him on his birth time. You were quick to drag him away, practically throwing him towards the car as you waved goodbye.

“Sorry,” you sighed as Jungkook opened the passenger door for you. “She has a…thing for astrology. She’s probably creating your star map or whatever right now.”

“It’s okay,” he responded once he got into the drivers seat. “It’s sweet of her to care.”

You snorted. “She’s delusional is what she is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in astrology?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook shrugged as he pulled out of your dirt driveway. He looked so damn attractive behind the wheel it was honestly unfair. “Not really saying I do or don’t. All I know is that there are a lot of things out there that are out of our control. If believing in the stars and planets helps you gain some of that control back, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“God, don’t talk like that in front of my mother. She’ll want to start dating you.”

He grinned and placed a hand on your knee. “Tell her I’m already taken.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to that. Not that he didn’t give you one, it was just that you literally had nothing to say. With just one sentence he opened the floodgates of your brain and the amount of thoughts that were flying through your conscious was painful. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep you from word vomiting onto him. No, it was better to keep your mouth shut and let the moment pass.

By the time you reached the restaurant you were a trembling mess of nerves. Were you guys dating? You thought this was just a ‘testing the waters’ date, not a ‘you’re my girlfriend now’ date. Did you have to make it Facebook official? You hated that shit.

Jungkook didn’t comment on your obvious distress, though. He merely placed a hand on the small of your back, ignoring how you jerked in surprise, and led you into the quiet bistro. Nodding politely to the hostess who was practically panting at the sight of him (you honestly couldn’t blame her) and pulled out your chair for you. When he sat down, he started talking. Idle chat at first. Commenting on one of the dishes, asking about the college classes you were taking at your local university. Before you realized it, wine was in your glass and your shoulders were loose. Previous nerves forgotten, you lost yourself in Jungkook. You drank, you ate, you laughed, and genuinely enjoyed his company. Honestly, it was the best date you’d ever been on.

“I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook spoke after he finished his raw steak. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled around the shrimp you had just tossed in your mouth. “So…this isn’t a date?”

“No, it is,” Jungkook clarified quickly around a dry chuckle. He seemed…nervous. It put you on edge immediately. “This is definitely a date. And, also, more.”

“More? What, is this a proposal too?” You were joking. A 100% joking. But Jungkook was staring at you so seriously it made you panic. “Jungkook, if you get down on one knee here I swear-”

“I’m not proposing,” he assured you. “This is something more than that.”

“More?” You parroted. Jungkook sighed.

“Do you know what a true mate is?”

Right there, in that quaint little bistro, on a date with quite possibly the most untouchable man you’d ever met, he explained how you were irrevocably his. His true mate, his soulmate.

Jungkook explained everything in great detail, which you appreciated, because honestly, you had no words. He explained how when he was born, the witch who cared for him told his father that his future glared brightly ahead of him, but only when he met his other half. True mates were rare. Mating was common, the wolves in his pack could have multiple mates or a lifelong one, but true mates were destiny. Someone or something out there had forged the two of you together. You were essentially each others other half. He was made for you and you were made for him.

“But…aren’t true mates only for wolves? I thought it’s impossible for a human to be a true mate,” you asked in a shaky voice once Jungkook took a breath.

“It was supposed to be impossible. Until, I met you.” Jungkook stared at you with a sort of reverence that made your entire body blush. “I have no idea how you are. I’ve spent hours researching. I’ve consulted with members of my pack and others. No one knows why.”

“Are you sure, though? I mean…what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook shook his head. “I visited the witch right after I met you. She took one look at me and told me that I had finally found my true mate. She said she’d never seen a future so bright before.”

You had no words for that. For the first time in your life, you were speechless. Jungkook seemed to understand. He let you sit in silence as he paid for the bill and walked you out to the car. The drive back to your parents house was the same. You couldn’t speak. The shock rendered you stupid.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway you still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. You stepped out of the car before he could open the door for you. Walking up to the porch steps in a trance, you didn’t hear him follow you until he clasped your wrist in his hand. Turning to face him, you were surprised to see his brown eyes so big. They practically sparkled in the moonlight and he looked so soft and sweet you nearly melted into the wood beneath your feet.

“Please,” he whispered. “Can you…just - are you okay? You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried I’ve scared you off or something.”

With that voice, it was impossible to deny him. So, you said the first thing that popped in your head. “Do we have to make it Facebook official?”

Jungkook stared at you before bursting into laughter. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You blushed and glanced down. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I can’t remember my Facebook password so even if you wanted to change it I don’t think it’ll work.”

“So that’s why you never accepted my friend request,” Jungkook teased. Before you could squeak out a response, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you forward. You kept your arms crossed across your chest but let yourself fall against him.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whined as you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled so good, a mixture of pine and spice. “My brain hasn’t worked since you told me I’m yours, so bear with me.”

Jungkook chuckled and gently swayed you from side to side. “Does that mean you’re okay with this? All of this?”

Sighing, you lifted your head up and stepped away from him. Jungkook was not impressed and pulled you back to him. Your heart swelled in your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck in consolation. “Honestly? I haven’t really processed anything. You’ve had your whole life to come to terms with this. I just found out thirty minutes ago that I’m someone’s soulmate. It’s a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nodded as he tapped his fingers against your hips. “I know. It’s a lot…I’m a lot. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be with me. I won’t-”

Now it was your turn to burst into laughter. You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. It was easily the most absurd thing you’d ever heard. “Jungkook, I want to make something very clear. I have no problem being your true mate. That’s not the issue here. Well, there really isn’t an issue. It’s just…hard to believe, I guess. I have to process that this is my new reality.”

“Really?” Jungkook perked up and looked so fucking cute you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks. His skin was so warm despite the cold autumn air that surrounded you both. “You want to do this? Be with me? Be mine?” All you could do was nod. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. The shock was evident, but a piece of you was so happy. You felt whole.

Jungkook’s face split into a wide smile that caused his nose to scrunch up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. Squealing, you slung your legs around his hips and held on. Normally, you’d rather die than show this much affection to someone. But, this was Jungkook. Your soulmate.

“So…what do we do now?” You asked once Jungkook set you down. “Is there, like, a ceremony or something?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted as he stared down at you. He had a hand against your jaw and was rubbing your cheek tenderly. “I really didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You scoffed at his ridiculousness. While recognizing you were Jungkook’s true mate was going to take some time, believing that he thought you’d deny him was utter nonsense. “What if…what if we date, first?” You suggested timidly. “I know that sounds kind of weird considering we’re supposed to be the loves of each others lives. But, I don’t really know you all that well. And, I think this is going to take sometime for me to get used to. Maybe we should date, get to know each other, and just learn how to be with one another.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook agreed. “We can do whatever you want. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

Two years passed.

Two blissful, wonderful years. Two years of dating, two years of loving, two years of being Jeon Jungkook’s. It was everything you could’ve asked for and more. You had never felt so loved and cherished in your entire life. He respected you, he took care of you, and most importantly, he was there for you in every sense. Since the moment you met him, you hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t let you. Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself.

And, it was the same for him. You were there for him when he transitioned into the leader of his pack. You were there when he took over the CEO position from his father and encouraged and supported him every step of the way. You let yourself be loved and in return he let you love him. It was wonderful.

Except, for one tiny thing.

While the emotional aspect of your relationship flourished and bloomed into something beautiful, the physical side remained stagnant. Make out sessions and heavy petting were a norm in your relationship. At first, it didn’t bother you. In fact, you loved that Jungkook was taking things so slow and so seriously. But, eventually, your needs began to grow. You found yourself wanting him in more ways than one, wants that only he could satisfy. Jungkook refused. Every time.

It wasn’t like he refused your every need. No, Jungkook was extremely attentive. When it came to himself, that’s when things got dicy. He had no problem spending hours between your legs, worshipping you until you were crying from the overstimulation. Yet, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him. Not without lack of trying on your part. The minute your hands went down to his waistband, he pushed you away. Every time you tried to dip your mouth to the obvious bulge in his pants, he lifted you up and kissed you breathless until you forgot your name. It wasn’t until after a year of dating that he finally let you grind on his clothed cock. Even then, he held off until you finished and then walked out with quite possibly the worst case of blue balls. You hated that he did this to himself. The worst part was, you couldn’t understand why.

The one time you had brought it up to him it had resulted in the worst fight the two of you had ever gotten into. It was the only argument that was never really resolved. After the yelling and the tears, all you got out of Jungkook was that mating with a wolf was not pretty. It was extremely dangerous and he refused to put you in that kind of danger. End of discussion. No matter how hard you tried to persuade him or broach the subject, he shut it down. Hard. Eventually, you gave up.

He even spent his ruts away from you. Every three months, he left you for a week. You knew he had a place somewhere up in the mountains and you assumed that’s where he went. You had no idea. There was no point even asking to come along. You loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to purposely give him a heart attack. You hated it when he left. As much as you tried to hide it and convince him that you were just fine, he wasn’t stupid. Being away from him was tough. A piece of you was missing whenever he was gone. And you were only whole again when he returned.

This past week had been one of those weeks. He had left on Sunday for the mountains. He was agitated and clingy, how he normally was pre-rut. Jungkook wouldn’t let you leave his side and you spent most of the weekend on his lap or wrapped in his arms. Not that you minded. When he left your parents house on Sunday night, you’d had to coax him out of the door. Promising him that you’d be okay and that you’d see him next week. It wasn’t until several kisses later did Jungkook finally leave.

While you’d been doing this for two years, it never got easier. More manageable? Sure. But definitely not easier. All you could do was go through the motions. You went to work at the local bakery, came home and helped your mom with dinner, watched TV with your dad before going to bed. Taehyung and Jimin would visit often, threatened by Jungkook to keep you company. While you assured them it wasn’t necessary, you secretly didn’t mind. They made you laugh and made you temporarily forget your boyfriend was miles away from you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d call you to tell you goodnight. But those times were rare. Normally, you didn’t hear from him until Friday or Saturday when he was finally coming out of his rut and returning to the world.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you were a jittery ball of nerves. Not in a bad sense. You were just excited. The anticipation killed you and it took all of your willpower to sit and wait for his text to tell you to come over. Your parents always left you alone on these Sundays, unable to deal with your hyperactiveness and constant fidgeting.

This Sunday was no different. You puttered around your room for the better part of the day. You spent the other part in the kitchen, baking like your life depended on it. Jungkook loved your cookies and you always made sure to come over with at least three batches after his ruts. He always said that was his second favorite part about coming home, after seeing you, of course.

You had just finished packaging the final batch in a glass cookie jar when your phone dinged. You didn’t have to read the message, you knew exactly what it said. Pure joy rushed through your system as you threw on your coat and shouted a hasty goodbye to your parents. Juggling the cookies and car keys, you sprinted to your car. The drive to Jungkook’s was thankfully not long. About ten minutes, as long as you didn’t hit any traffic on the main road. Luck was on your side, though, and you showed up at Jungkook’s house in eight minutes.

Taehyung’s car was in the driveway when you pulled up, which wasn’t odd. Although Jungkook owned the house, the members of his pack were almost always around. While most preferred to travel in their wolf forms, you knew Taehyung and Namjoon preferred cars. Something about being able to listen to their own music without comments from the peanut gallery. You didn’t really understand and didn’t really need to. You had just chalked it up as one of their many quirks.

Carrying the trays of cookies in both hands, you shut your car door with your foot before speed-walking up the stone walkway to Jungkook’s home. The screen door was shut, but the wooden door was swung wide open. You had just reached for the metal handle when you heard it.

A deep, threatening growl ripped through the peaceful quiet and froze you in place. You knew it was Jungkook. While you had only heard it once, you’d never forgotten it. It was when the two of you had attended a party and an alpha from a neighboring pack had cornered you in the hallway. Jungkook had found you cowered against the wall as the other alpha had caged you in. The sound that had left his chest had given you equal parts comfort and fear. Comfort, because he was there and you knew you were safe. Fear, because you could see in the way he bared his teeth and how his muscles vibrated, he had been furious and bloodthirsty.

That’s what you felt now, fear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

From your vantage point in front of the screen door, you could see directly into the kitchen. Taehyung was leaning against the granite countertop and Jungkook was seated at the island. The tension was so thick you practically choked on it.

“Enough, Taehyung.”

“No,” Taehyung snapped, seeming just as angry as Jungkook. “I’m not dropping it. Not this time.”

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook snarled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too fucking bad.” While Taehyung was also an alpha, he acted so much like a beta you never really noticed. Until now. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not spending your ruts correctly is only causing you more harm than good.”

“I’m doing things the way I want to, and it’s working-”

“The hell it is!” Jungkook growled at the interruption but Taehyung ignored him. “It’s not working, and you know it. Anyone with two fucking eyes knows it. It’s getting so bad that the pack is noticing, too. Even Namjoon has realized something is wrong, and he’s as oblivious as they come.”

“If they have a problem with me they can take it up with me.”

“No, they can’t. Because you won’t listen. Your head is so far up your ass you can’t even hear yourself anymore. What you’re doing right now is not working. Something needs to change.”

“Like what?” Jungkook spat.

“You know what,” Taehyung bit back. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage. You knew you needed to go get someone, someone from the pack to calm the two of them down. Things were only escalating, but you couldn’t move. Your brain screamed at you to run but your legs were rooted in place. “That’s is what’s so frustrating, Jungkook. This, all of this, could be solved. She’s right there-”

“Don’t.” Jungkook stood up so fast the chair he sat on flew backwards and hit the wall with a resounding crack.

“Why?” Taehyung threw his arms up in the air. “Why not? I don’t get it-”

“Because I don’t want her!” Jungkook yelled, the force of it rang throughout the house. You had no idea who the she was that they were referring to. You assumed it was someone from the pack. It was well-known that wolves with human mates sometimes turned to other she-wolves to help with their ruts. You figured that’s what Jungkook did whenever he went away for a week. It had bothered you at first, but you knew he had his needs and that they were at a biological level. You refused to make him feel guilty or ashamed for taking care of himself.

“You don’t want her?” Taehyung was enraged. You could tell by the way he straightened his spine and unfurled himself to his full height. Jungkook bristled in response and the muscles in his back strained against the thin material of his shirt.

“No, I don’t!” Jungkook exploded. “What don’t you understand about that? I don’t want her around me. I don’t need her, I’m fine on my own. The thought of having her there when…God - it makes me physically ill.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Above all of that, your true mate. You’re seriously going to deny yourself of her, for what? Just because you don’t like having her around?”

Oh.

That’s when it hit you. They weren’t talking about some random she-wolf. They were talking about you. You were the one Jungkook didn’t want. You were the one Jungkook didn’t need. You were the one he didn’t like having around. As the weight of the words sunk into your mind, you felt your chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Then, you’re heart broke right in half. You dropped the container of cookies and didn’t flinch when it shattered against the wooden slats. The sound unstuck your feet from their position on the porch and your fight or flight system took over. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and ran.

You didn’t know if anyone was behind you, you didn’t turn around to check. Hands fumbled for the car door as you threw yourself into the drivers side. Pain ricocheted throughout your chest cavity and you struggled to breathe. Your brain was blank, the only thing your mind did was move your body to get you somewhere safe. You had to leave and you had to leave now.

Miraculously, your fingers found your keys and inserted them into the ignition on the second try. A flutter of movement occurred to the left of you but your eyes didn’t let you look that way. Instead, they focused on the rearview mirror as you reversed out of the driveway. Your right hand found the gearshift and moved it to drive. Soon, you were tearing down the street as your ears refused to register the agonized howls that echoed behind as you kept staring forward. Adrenaline pumped through your system and your body shivered in response, the splash of hormones had created a blanket of fake calm over you. The emotions, the pain, the thoughts were swirling inside of you, ready to break free and drown you, but your brain wouldn’t allow it.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of your long driveway that you felt the original spike of adrenaline fade away. Your mother was in the front, tending to the flowers, and looked up when she saw your car fly into its usual spot. She stood up and her face twisted into a frown when you got out of your seat.

“Honey, your aura…it’s concerning.” The blanket was yanked away and the pain crashed over you.

You couldn’t say a word, all you could do was collapse in your mother's arms and cry, cry, cry.

It took you two days to calm down. The tears had stopped rolling and your shoulders no longer shook from trying to hold your sobs behind your teeth. Your mother hadn’t left your side, leaving your father to answer the door whenever someone knocked. The only person who did was Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook never showed up.

Well, that was a lie.

Jungkook did show up every morning and night, without fail. But he never came to your doorstep.  Instead, he was in the woods behind your house, patrolling, not daring to leave the protection of the forest. A part of you wondered if he was respecting your obvious need for space or if your mother had paid a witch to set up boundary lines that didn’t allow him to cross. Either way, you were grateful that you couldn’t see him. There was an incessant tugging in your heart to be near him but you staunchly ignored it, which would’ve been impossible if you saw his achingly beautiful face.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her. Having her there makes me physically ill. Those three sentences played in a constant loop in your head, like a horror movie you couldn’t escape from. You were the protagonist who couldn’t escape the maze, but the villain wasn’t kind enough to kill you off. No matter what you did, your brain wouldn’t stop repeating those three sentences. Your mother burned sage, she pressed crystals into your palms, she muttered ritual after ritual, but nothing worked.

You hated how affected you were. You had always told yourself that you would never be the girl who’d get so wrapped up in someone else they didn’t know who they were anymore. Independence was something you prided yourself on, but you seemed to be at a complete loss now. You couldn’t stop the waves of sadness and self-hatred at your depressed state. It was amazing how empty you felt yet so full of pain at the same time. Your mind and heart couldn’t seem to decide which hurt worse; your heart for having your soulmate so obviously reject you, or your brain for trying to make sense of the situation. When did this happen? How did this happen? How had you been so blind as to not see it?

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” you rasped to your mom on the third morning. It had been the first words you had spoken to her since you had fell into her arms. She looked up from the bundle of herbs she was smoking.

“Why do you say that?”

You stared at your hands that had curled in on themselves. “I don’t make him happy. I-I never realized how uncomfortable I made him. I wish I had known. How did I miss it?”

Your mother tutted gently and gathered you in her arms. She smelled of lavender and wax. “This is good. I’m glad you’re letting yourself have this moment. Let’s sit in this and allow yourself to be embedded here.” But you didn’t want to have this moment. You didn’t want to have any moment and you’ve felt enough to last a lifetime. Instead, you rolled over, let sleep overtake you and tried to ignore the distant howling that rattled your window pane.

By nightfall of the fourth day, you were forced out of bed. Partly by choice, partly by force. Your parents had dipped out to run to the grocery store, despite your mother’s insistence that she could stay. You and your father managed to convince her to leave and you had gotten up to wave them goodbye. Sure, your heart was broken, but the least you could do was kiss them on the cheek before they left. You had turned around to shuffle into the kitchen to try and shovel something down your dry throat when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Hesitating, you carefully peeked through the kitchen window and saw Jimin on your front doorstep, dressed in all black.

Sighing, you stumbled over and pulled the door open. You figured you couldn’t avoid them for much longer. “Hey, Jimin.”

“Christ, you look like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh as Jimin stared at you in horror, not having the energy to be offended. You also knew, in a weird way, that this was Jimin’s way of caring for you. “Yeah. My mother’s covered all the mirrors in the house.”

Jimin nodded as he glanced at you from head to toe. “I want to ask if you’re okay but…” He gestured to your gaunt frame swaddled in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. For the first time in two years, they were your own clothes, not Jungkook’s.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in? I think my mom boiled some tea not too long ago.”

Jimin shook his head. “Can’t. Jungkook would have a fit if I got that close to you right now. I’m already pushing my luck just by showing up.” He doesn’t care, you thought bitterly, and almost said it out loud but you caught yourself at the last second. Jimin wasn’t stupid, though. He knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes going soft, “are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” You shook your head. A wave of sadness washed over you but the telltale prick of tears didn’t come.

Jimin understood. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know I have to. I just…I just need time.”

“Take however long you need.”

It was another 48-hours before you finally snapped. While you had spent the majority of the two days that had passed to make yourself resemble a human being, you couldn’t focus. You couldn’t move on. Why?

Because Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone.

His presence was constant. He circled your house every hour of ever day, the large shadow of him in wolf form darkened the trees behind your house. The howling had stopped but the pacing hadn’t. You hoped he was at least sleeping, but then you got annoyed at yourself for caring. You didn’t know why he was out there, it made no sense. Jungkook’s words were so different from his actions it made your head spin.

But, you needed to move on with your life. You had to. The only way it was going to happen was if Jungkook did too. It hurt. God, did it hurt. Yet, as sad and utterly pathetic as it sounded, you were used to the pain at this point, had resigned yourself to it. A part of you worried you wouldn’t know what to do without it.

Shaking off that depressing thought, you tugged on your rain boots and stepped outside for the first time in a week. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, the clouds low and gray. You tugged the hood up on your sweater to prevent your hair from completely frizzing out before you walked to down the back deck steps.

The backyard of your parents house was expansive. The home you had grown up in sat on top of a sloping hill that your mother had turned into her personal greenhouse. You stepped past rows of raised garden beds and pruned plants until you reached the line where the neatly mowed grass met the twisted ferns of the forest floor. As you had suspected, the ground was scorched with the evidence of past rituals. While your mother hadn’t out right admitted, you had figured someone had come and created a boundary line. It was obviously specific to Jungkook since Jimin and Taehyung were still able to visit. While your mother’s methods were extreme, you understood. As difficult as it was to move on with your life with Jungkook sequestered to the forest, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if he was within a few feet of you.

With a deep inhale, you sat down on the damp grass and waited. After a few minutes, you could hear the faint sounds of paws hitting the wet earth. The galloping got louder and louder until there was a momentary stretch of silence before it changed to footsteps.

When Jungkook emerged from the trees, you weren’t prepared. Although you knew you wouldn’t be, you still weren’t expecting it to hurt this bad. Your chest squeezed painfully at the first look of his broad form. Technically, it had been two weeks since you two had truly seen each other, the longest you’d ever gone. What hurt the most was how badly you longed for him. You wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and forget everything. Just forgive and give your heart what it wanted. But you remained firmly in place.

Jungkook looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was probably true since you hadn’t seen the sun in seven days. His normally golden skin was pale and even from where you sat you could see the dark circles bruising under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping. You hated that you noticed. You hated that you cared. He was dressed in all black and his chest strained against the material of his sweater. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side and the sight reminded you of why you were here.

“Hi.” Probably wasn’t the best start but it was the best you could do. Jungkook didn’t respond so you soldiered on. “I-I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this quick. I just…wanted to apologize. I had no idea I made you so uncomfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ve felt this way about me, not that it really matters, but I wish you had told me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been easier for you, who knows.” You released a heavy sigh and tried to shove down the stone in your throat as you forced the next words out of your mouth. “But, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. I think I understand what you need, now. I know you loved me at one point, but I’m obviously not what you need anymore. And…t-that’s okay - I swear it is. All I want is for you to be happy, Jungkook. And I think, in order for that to happen, I need to move on. We both need to move on-”

“Stop it,” Jungkook broke in with a harsh voice that cut your sentence in half. “Stop talking.”

It felt like he had slapped you in the face. A wave of humiliation washed over you and you visibly flinched. Staggering to your feet, you locked your gaze onto your boots in an attempt to hide the tears that dripped down your nose. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, not expecting it to change anything. You began to turn away but Jungkook stopped you in your tracks, again.

“Wait, no - stop. Stop. Please…don’t go,” he pleaded. When you turned around, his eyes were frantic. Jungkook’s hand was raised from his side as if he thought about reaching out to you but something stopped him. His words were at war with one another and you were caught in the middle, at a loss for what he was trying so desperately to convey to you.

“Jungkook, I’m so confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Jungkook tucked his head into his hands before dropping down into a squat. “This is all wrong. This is all so wrong.”

You knew you should walk away. You had said your piece, it was time to move on, just as you had said. Yet, you couldn’t. It was as if your heart was tethered to him and your body couldn’t handle the pain of walking away. “Listen-”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cut you off but the bubbles of anger that had risen from being interrupted popped once you saw how lost he looked. His tattooed fingers threaded through his hair, allowing you to see the pure anguish that twisted his features. “Whenever I feel like this, I come to you. Because you always know what to do. Any situation, no matter what, you can handle it. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

The way he spoke to you now, so reverently and so full of awe, made your head spin. Nothing made sense.  It was such a blatant contrast to the brutality that he had spat out a week ago. As much as you wanted to believe what he said now, those stupid words could not get out of your head. It was a constant reminder that never shut up.

“I don’t know what to do either,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

“Tell me,” Jungkook begged, as if he couldn’t and refused to comprehend what you had just told him. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish. “There’s nothing you can do, Jungkook. Nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” He stared at you, horrified. “Don’t say that to me. Please, there has to be something.”

“What could there be?” You cried. Tears streamed down your cheeks now. “You said it yourself, being near me makes you sick. Why would I stay? Why would you want me to? I refuse to make you uncomfortable anymore - so that’s that.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook argued back. “It can’t be. I-I can’t lose you, I can’t. I need to make this right, please just let me. Please.”

But, you were tired. You were so fucking tired. You were exhausted of the emotional rollercoaster that you were on that you just wanted to crawl away and hide. All the fight seeped out of you as your shoulders slumped forward. Jungkook saw this and the blood drained from his face. You were giving up, he could see it, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Jungkook, I need to go, okay? I-I can’t do this.”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and shot up to his feet. The pure panic that choked his voice brought on a fresh set of tears that you struggled to hold back. “Just let me explain, okay? I swear to God, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want me to, I’ll let you go. I won’t fight you on it. But, please let me tell you the truth. Give me a chance to make this right. You deserve that.”

You hesitated for a moment. Deep down, you knew you should let him talk. Not because you necessarily thought he deserved to, but because he was right. You did deserve the truth, no matter how much it broke your heart. With a heavy sigh and a quick swipe of your cheeks, you nodded. Once Jungkook was sure you weren’t going to leave, he began pacing. Looking every bit like the wild animal you knew him to be but never got to see.

“Mating with a werewolf is…brutal. It’s intense, it’s painful and it isn’t pretty. It’s essentially a breeding session where I use you as a vessel to fulfill my innate biological needs. It’s not romantic, it’s not gentle. Even for she-wolves it can be too much. The thought of subjecting you to something like that - that type of pain…I couldn’t fathom it. I don’t think you understand just how precious you are to me. The image of you being battered and bruised because of me, something I did…it tormented me, day and night.” He paused for a moment, the pained look in his eyes made you shiver. You hated that he had gone through all of this turmoil on his own, and you especially hated how you never made more of an effort to try and relieve him of it.

“I couldn’t do it. That’s partially the reason I waited so long to tell you that you were my true mate. I knew ruts were something I would never expose you to even though it’s such a huge part of my life, a wolf’s life.” Jungkook looked you straight in the eye, the intensity of his dark gaze took your breath away. “I know the practices other wolves partake in when their own heats or ruts arrive. I know you know them too. But, I need you to understand something. The moment you allowed me to be yours and vice versa, I haven’t had anyone else since. I swear on my life, I’ve spent every single one of my ruts alone. I wouldn’t and I won’t do that to you.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?” Your voice cracked but neither one of you acknowledged it. While your knowledge on ruts were expansive, having done plenty of research since being with Jungkook, you had obviously never experienced one.

“It’s manageable. It’s way more painful for a she-wolf to go through her heat alone than it is for a male.” Jungkook clenched and unclenched his fists as he resumed his pacing. “The worst part is being away from you. I’ve been going through ruts since puberty, I can handle them. But not being able to be with you for a whole week…I hated it. Still do. I dread that three month mark. And as time went on, I became more and more miserable. Being apart from you was almost unbearable but the other option…I never even allowed myself to consider it.

“It came to the point where the pack was noticing. I wasn’t getting the proper pheromonal release from my ruts and it was beginning to affect those around me. Taehyung has been on my ass for months now to get over myself and take you with me during my next rut. Each time I’d give him some excuse, but it was getting harder and harder to justify what I was doing. At first, I was convinced it was because I was protecting you. But you’ve been so understanding and so patient with me and my life, those excuses were becoming useless. Eventually, I think it was because I was protecting myself. I was - am - so scared. I’m terrified that I could hurt you when I’m like that. That I wouldn’t be able to notice or worse, ignored, if something happened to you. Living with that type of fear became debilitating. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept you away from that part of me.”

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. “Now I know that was the worst possible thing I could do. That I was just hurting you more. What you walked into last Sunday was a culmination of my frustrations that I was refusing to deal with. While it’s not a valid reason, I’m well aware of that, I need you to know that what you heard was not the truth. It couldn’t be further from it. Because the truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with you and the thought of being without you hurts worse than I ever thought was possible.”

It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time that Jungkook left you speechless. It took you a full minute to process what he had said. Jungkook granted you the silence although he became increasingly more agitated as time passed. His boots scuffed the dead leaves that littered the ground and his pacing led him closer to the ashes that lay before your feet. Then, he’d suddenly stalk off with a growl as he was forced to keep away.

“I-” you cleared your throat around the lump that had found a home there. “I had no idea. This whole time…I thought it was because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no.” Jungkook swore heavily as his muscles bunched and coiled beneath his clothes. “The - the fact that…you - fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not it, that’s not it at all. You’re my dream girl, you’re the love of my life, and I want you every second of every day.”

Maybe it’s because you were emotionally drained and had no mental strength left. Maybe, you needed to hear those words from Jungkook more than you realized. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out an explanation as you sunk to the ground and burst into tears.

Jungkook lost it across from you. Broken whines stained the air as he carded through his hair anxiously. He kept trying to get to you, to try to soothe you. But the boundary was unfortunately doing its job and each attempt was met with failure. Curses were spat out until eventually, he got as close as the boundary would let him and fell to his knees. He began spewing whatever came to mind first, unsure of what to do. All he knew was that you were crying because of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He thought hearing you cry from your bedroom window was torture, but nothing could compare to hearing you break down in front of him. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry…please, I’m so sorry. I - don’t cry, darling. Please don’t. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

It wasn’t tears of heartbreak that leaked from your eyes. Instead, it was tears of relief. While your heart had wholly accepted his words as the truth, the logical part of you reminded yourself that the two of you had way more talking to do. This was far from over, but the relief of knowing that he loved you and he was yours…it was indescribable.

You finally lifted your head up and were shocked to find Jungkook’s cheeks glistening with moisture. Your only thought was to comfort him as you scrambled forward to do just that. Instead of feeling his smooth skin against the palm of your hand, you were blocked by what felt like a wall although nothing stood in your way. Frowning, you realized with a start that the boundary worked both ways. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl as he glared at the ashes that was stopping both of you from getting what you wanted. It was silent for a few moments until an idea popped into your head.

“Wait here,” you announced before jumping up and taking off for the house. Ignoring Jungkook’s distressed cry, you ran inside. You yanked your car keys off from their designated hook and quickly typed out a text to your parents to let them know where you were going before spinning around and sprinting back outside. Jungkook was where you left him, although he stumbled to his feet when he saw you reappear.

“I’m going to your house,” you announced, breathless. “No witch is stupid enough to go that far into werewolf territory. If you want to talk to me there, then follow me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a heartbeat until the words you spoke clicked. “Y-yeah. Yes. Okay. I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, you ran to your car. For the first time in a week, a faint sprout of hope bloomed in your chest.

It was the longest and shortest ten minutes of your life. The drive to Jungkook’s seemed to last a lifetime but also was over within a blink of an eye. The tears had stopped flowing by the time you pulled your car into his driveway, but you felt the telltale prick in your eyes when you saw him burst from the trees. Your heart ached as his long legs ate up the distance between you two as you wrestled with your seatbelt and threw the car into park. By the time you freed yourself, he was at the hood of your car.

The two of you stared at each other for a few breathless moments. You weren’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter as you crashed into each other’s arms. The moment his searing warmth enveloped you, you dissolved into another puddle of sobs. The feeling of his thick arms banded across your back, his torso molded to yours, and his hair tickling your ear, felt so right. Another wave of crippling relief washed over you and you practically melted against Jungkook. But he held you up, just like he always had.

He leaned against the front bumper while his hands were everywhere. Cradling your head into his neck, smoothing over your hips, or running circles over your shoulders. He was crying, you could feel the tears dampening your hair. But you were soaking his shirt so no one was in any position to complain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Jungkook hissed fiercely as he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.”

“Kook,” you sighed and pulled your head back to get a good look at him. “It takes two to tango.”

“Not this time,” he argued. “You’ve put up with so much. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more. It was my own fears that got in the way and created this mess. And I’m so sorry for that, darling. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shushed him gently, running your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe at the dried tears. “I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

Jungkook dipped his head further into your touch with a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest. He kissed your palm gently, sniffing at your wrist. It made you giggle. “Missed that,” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with stars in his eyes. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down your cheeks. You were positive that you looked like a mess, hair in a knotted bun, face red and puffy and you kept sniffling every two seconds. But Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. “Missed you too,” you murmured in return. “Please, next time, just talk to me. I may not have the answers you’re looking for all the time, but I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered. “There won’t be a next time, promise. If I happen to be stupid enough to put us in this position again, I give you full permission to punch me in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You lifted yourself onto your toes to brush your lips against his, dropping back down to your feet when his head chased after yours. “Or maybe I just won’t kiss you for a week.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he actually looked terrified. “I’d rather you just punched me in the face.” You tilted your head back and laughed. Jungkook tugged you closer and nosed your throat before peppering gentle kisses along the exposed skin. Sighing happily, you tilted your head to allow him better access and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said quietly. Jungkook froze for a split second before he sank against you. Squeaking in shock, you scrambled to brace yourself against the sudden weight pressing you towards the house.

“Say it again,” Jungkook pleaded. You couldn’t deny him. Dusting feather light kisses to the shell of his ear, you repeated those three words again, and again, and again. Each time you did, Jungkook held you a little tighter and cried a little harder.

Eventually, you’re murmured promises became softer and softer until the two of you just enjoyed each others presence. “C’mon,” you finally whispered as you started to lift yourself off of him. Jungkook growled and refused to let you move an inch farther. “Kook, come on. Let’s go inside. Your ass must be numb by now.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled but he at least shuffled forward a bit more so that your combined weight wasn’t squashing his ass against your car.

“You might say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.”

Jungkook grunted at your logic but he at least raised his head and looked at you with the sweetest eyes. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

Giggling, you asked, “do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I want you here forever.” Jungkook tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you should just move in with me.”

Christ, this boy was going to give you whiplash. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, we just made up. The whole reason we were in this mess is because of poor communication. Don’t you think we should work on that first before anything else?”

“But…we could work on communication all the time if we’re together 24/7.” Despite his pout, you knew he wasn’t totally serious. Although you were sure it was going to come up again.

“Alright, you maniac,” you said fondly. “Take me to bed.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled happily as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

It wasn’t a long walk to his bedroom, but the exhaustion of the past week caught up to you and the gentle rocking of his steps lulled you into a serene state. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You were aware when Jungkook placed you on his bed, practically engulfed in his scent. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was the words Jungkook pressed into your hair has he slid in behind you.

“Love you forever, my darling girl.”

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

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[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[tsukishumai]

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

��No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 

Semi Nude. 

You blinked once. Then twice. 

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani. 

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 

“No, I definitely know you —“ 

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“ 

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door. 

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 

[symwinter]

HBIC Marinette – Chapter Two

Taglist: @ladybug-182 | @our-preciousss | @woe-is-me0 | @vroomtaka | @lady-bee-fechin | @ramos123 | @itsmeevie01 | @chaoticstarworld | @vixen-uchiha | @seraphichana | @pleaseignorejustheretoread | @basenikon | @bread-loving-mess | @walkingthroughonautopilot |

Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.

First - Last - Next

Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?” “Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.” “Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.

“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap. “You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?” “She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed. “Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned. “Was it your commission book?” “No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object. “Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group. “Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”

It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her. “It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.” “There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard. “I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.” “Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled. “I’ll hold it to you.” “Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed. “Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over. “We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help. “Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused. “You’re here to see Marinette?” “Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.” “Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open. “Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her. “Are these-” Marinette began. “Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.” “I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.” “Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.” “Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails. “Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.” “But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her. “She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?” “When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.” “Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-” “Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up. “The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”

And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?” “Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?” “Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped. “What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly. “When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down. “I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.” “How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all” “Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied. “Three.” “Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel. “Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye. “I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” “You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?” “Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.

“Oh god.”

[bakugohoex]

Ok ok hear me out: a sleepover with the class 1A girls and the fem reader, they all let loose eating, doing face masks, dancing in their tiny pjs or whatever and the boys hear about it and go spy on the girls. Bakugou goes because he’s curious to see what the reader is like when they’re not in school (as she seems mom friend ™️) turns out she’s like a big goofball and a dancing queen and Bakugou gets all blushy after realizing he has a fat crush on her. The guys get caught obviously 😂 ty sm!!💕

“she’s doing what?”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, kissing, fluff

word count: 1500+

a/n: umm hi, this is a request and i’m done for tonight i need to get on the grind again with revising so hopefully i’ll go back to posting once a day but i thought new year a little treat

summary:  in which you’re seen as the mom of class 1a, the boys got to spy on the girls sleepover and what they didn’t expect was you to confess your crush but also for you to have hidden talents that makes bakugo realise he needs to have you 

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

If you don’t think you have these boys in the palm of your hand then you’re lying to yourself.

They’re either scared of you telling them off or fearful of disappointing you.

Even Bakugo will refrain from his usual angry self around you,

It’s probably more due to his infatuation with you though.

This boy just wants to know what makes you tick.

How someone like you has the ability to be so caring to the class that even Mineta stops being a perv when you’re around.

He says he doesn’t care.

He does care.

This man just wants to know if you ever act like a normal teenager.

You literally worry about everything with the class.

Making sure Denki doesn’t overcharge himself and become well dumb.

Making sure Ururaka doesn’t use her quirk too much to make her puke.

Even making sure Deku’s injuries arent as bad as they really are.

This man follows the rest of the boys to the girls sleepover and is in shock.

Utter shock at the sights of you doing the Tiktok dance Mina had been begging you to do.

The facemasks and music played in the common area on the bottom floor, the tight shirts and shorts on all the girls. You all had been playing truth or dare with masks you and Mina had bought hours prior. Ready to peel off the masks and toss them in the bin hopefully feeling refreshed and rehydrated. The Saturday night sleepover had been a sacred ritual for months now, the boys being banned from even daring to step one-foot downstairs.

“Truth or dare, Y/n.” Ururaka giggled with the tea that Momo had made in her grasp.

You thought looking around the group, “truth.”

The boys had finally got the nerve to come crawling down. They hid in the kitchen listening in, Mineta being locked in his room due to him being well a pervert. Even Bakugo stood alongside the group of his own free will, they were all listening in, watching how you were waiting for the truth question.

His eyes perked upwards listening into round faces question, he didn’t care about the rest of the girls. He just wanted to see how you were outside the comfort of class and school, of course he had seen you in your less worrying state but this, your shorts shorter than normal. Your shirt peaking upwards towards your stomach, he waited and waited until the words dripped from round faces mouth.

“Out of all the boys in the class who would you date?” It was unexpected and he hoped he said you, it was a wish, knowing how close you were with Todoroki and Midoriya he didn’t expects his name to ever come from a question like that.

He watched you think, your eyes looked tired but still happy before you confessed, “100% Bakugo.”

“Y/n I cant believe you’re actually into the angry Pomeranian.” Momo spoke up.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, like he’s not that angry with me and he’s just I don’t know, I think he’d be an amazing boyfriend.” You confessed the truth, knowing Bakugo would never found out so you didn’t care, “also he’s so fucking attractive.”

They laugh as the truth and dare continued, the boys had looked at Bakugo, his face beet red and his eyes were a lot softer. “She…she likes me.” He whispers.

“Now you can ask her out.” Kirishima nudged him with his shark teeth grinned.

“Shut it.” He muttered allowed not to anyone in particular. You liked him, you saw more past the anger and thought he’d be a good boyfriend. Hell you ever called him attractive, it fuelled his ego and he wanted to see even more.

The boys continued to listen in, “this was a waste of time.” Tokoyami muttered having been dragged here. He left with some others, Bakugo hadn’t noticed but Midoriya stayed talking to Todoroki and Sero and Kirishima and Denki paid attention to the girls so Bakugo wouldn’t feel self-conscious about staying to here you speak. Well Denki mostly stayed thinking that a pillow fight would occur soon enough.

“Y/n, let’s make the Tiktok dance.” She gestured; this perked Bakugo’s ears but he was unable to move. You weren’t going to dance; you were too pristine and clean to dance to a Tiktok song.

“Woah Y/n’s a fucking good dancer.”

“She’s doing what?” He listened to the sound of oops! By yung gravy, it had been playing in Mina’s phone for the past week and Bakugo had gotten sick of it.

But clearly you had learnt the dance as you did it with ease with Mina, you both did the dance with a swing in your step, he watched in awe at how your body moved. Heavily attracted to you and enticed by your movement. He continued to stare, moving his body to lean against the wall in view of the girls as he watched you. He needed you, he craved you and most of all he didn’t care who knew about their spying at all. 

“Agh.” Hagakure belched out, making you all stop. You noticed Bakugo’s eyes skim you up and down.

You looked at how the other boys fell out of the kitchen, silence occurred but Bakugo stayed leaning against the wall eyes directly facing you. “How long were you guys there?” You ask, “tell me.”

“Long enough.” Sero spoke to ease the tension.

You heard the noise of stomping down the corridor seeing an agitated Iida, “I told you all there would be consequences if you followed Kaminari.” The blame had shifted to the boy who jolted out of there Jirio and Tsu chasing after him.

Momo, Mina, Hagakure and Ururaka looked between you and Bakugo all knowing he had heard the words that had supposed to have been private. “Let’s go.” Kirishima muttered making the boys leave except Bakugo, the girls looked before collecting there things and scurrying away themselves.

Mina mouthed a sorry before you moved towards your discarded hoodie about to put it on, “leave it.”

It was a command rather than a suggestion and you obliged, tossing it with your things. Before sitting on the sofa, he sat beside you in silence, you looked down not wanting to meet his gaze, “Iida was right, you shouldn’t have been watching us.”

“Really you going to tell me off to avoid the real matter.” He pulled at his hair and action that made your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied.

He laughs cocking his head back before meeting your gaze, “you’re the one who said I’d be an amazing boyfriend and called me fucking attractive.”

“I…” You couldn’t lie he had repeated the words, word for word.

He moved closer grabbing your jaw with his rough hands. “You could’ve just told me.” He spoke making your face move closer to his own. His lips brushing against your neck, his hot breath fanning your exposed skin.

“Bakugo.”

“Katsuki, you already think I’m fucking attractive, so call me Katsuki you brat.” You took in a sharp breath, his hand still on your jaw, your cheeks squished between his fingers. “I saw you do that Tiktok, showing yourself off like that to everybody, only I can see that, not those shitty extras, only me.”

You hummed in agreement feeling intoxicated by his voice waiting for him to continue, “you want to be mine, want to be my fucking girl don’t you.”

His thumb brushed against your lips, a soft moan of a “yes” erupted from your mouth. It was beauty to his ears, he felt you lick your lips brushing his thumb.

“Prove it then.” It was another command, he needed you to beg, needed you to prove that you wanted to be his. “Beg for me.”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek, you closed your eyes, “I want to…to kiss you.” It was torture to say, torture to admit that you craved his touch even more.

“That’s all I wanted to here baby girl.” He let go of your grabbing your waist and bringing you closer to him.  “You’re a lot more than an irritating worrier than I thought.”

“Katsuki.” You pout, “I thought being nice would make people like me.”

“Be yourself idiot.” He spoke.

“O…” Before you could agree his lips smashed onto your own.

He spoke through the kiss as he nibbled on your bottom lip, “shut up.” You nodded wanting to feel his tongue inside of you, teeth banging together. His touch sending shivers down your spine, feeling him kiss you with such passion that drives you crazy.

His lips were exactly how you expected them to be, rough and able to bruise your own. Your lips felt sore, felt bitten and wary. You felt his tongue guide your own, you followed his movement, his hands in your hair pulling you closer.

He let go taking a breath, watching your dazed position on top of his lap. “Fuck, we should ugh…” He didn’t know how to speak your figure on him making his ears perk red.  “…go out or something, I don’t care.”

“I’d love too Katsuki.” You smile, you hadn’t expected his next movement. His arms wrapping around your waist into a hug, the words you had said prior about being an amazing boyfriend. Had shot something inside of him, you believed he would be good at something, and maybe even maybe you believed he would be your amazing boyfriend.

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[deathwishdaydream]

Dear Universe, Up Yours!

Chapter 1

"Now, for the first time, he's seeing that there really is a way out of this, and it's all so simple. You don't have to run away. You just meet somebody special and step sideways into a parallel universe."

-Irvine Welsh, Skagboys

 

 

 

I never found anybody interesting in my life. I've never succumbed to the tedium of this place. I always felt out of place, but that was probably because everyone else was so dead. And I dreaded the realization that I'd stay here forever.

"And then," My mind seemingly brought itself back inside of the desolate, sterile classroom as the science teacher, Mr. Bradford spoke, "The swab would turn into a light pink color because blood contains hemoglobin, which would assist the peroxide in reacting with the hydrogen in phenolphthalein, turning into water. The decreased hydrogen form of phenolphthalein would then make it turn pink, revealing that it is indeed blood. But if it wasn't blood and just looked like it could have been, then no reaction would occur and the swab would stay its natural color."

I literally have no idea what the fuck is going on.

We completed a lesson earlier than expected, so the class decided that, with the remaining time of the period, they wanted to learn something of forensic science. Though actually, it was the teacher who decided, because nobody really reacted when he offered the knowledge. This made me miserably realize how long an hour really is. While this happened, I fiddled with a piece of lead from my mechanical pencil, rubbing it between my fingers to see the shiny gray chaos appear on my fingertips, then breaking it into smaller pieces or crushing them instead of paying attention. The graphite made a horrific, powdery mess on the light brown surface of the glossy wooden table. The teacher, with his small rectangular glasses, always had the worst monotone voice that could get the whole class to drop dead asleep. His hair was mostly gray, flooding all the young, auburn strands, but he wasn't too old. He always wore the same boring polos in different colors every week with pants that have always been the same color every single day. I'd say the students in this class are worse, though. Nobody talks or pays attention. It was fucking stupid. I wish I could just stand up from my seat and leave out the door. Science is my least favorite class out of all of mine. And I hate all of my classes, so that says a lot. It was no exaggeration. It was boring and the students were boring, the teacher was boring. Everything that has anything to do with my school is boring, really. It was all so pathetic.

I heard the cheap bell ringing, and all the students stood up from their chairs in unison, as if they were some fucking cult, and then the teacher, drowned out by all the students speaking, reminded them to do homework and other useless things that they're probably not going to do. I stacked my notebook and papers, putting them in my bag that I had thrown over my shoulder after. Walking out of the classroom with all the students brutally crowding towards the door as if that bell had been a fire alarm instead, I accidentally bumped into my lab partner, Gerard Way, and muttered a quick "sorry" as I got out of the classroom to the hallway. I didn't really know him that well or paid much attention to him at all, being someone who sat next to him since the beginning of the year. Which actually had just been a month. There would be times when he'd try to talk to me about the work but that was pretty much it. He had pale skin, black messy hair, and brown eyes, I believe. He was a regular teenage boy that I had to sit next to in science class and was very quiet and reserved.

[ "I Died Inside"  by Lesley Gore playing]

As I walked into the hallway, it was narrow and cramped, swarmed with roaring, energetic bags of hormones. It was probably a better way to describe "high school students" here; it was a more accurate description, as someone who observes things a lot. I felt myself being viciously pushed around and shoved from every angle, but I kept my head forward, walking straight ahead, as my peripheral vision caught paper airplanes flying across the hallway.

I never interacted with anyone at all. I don't think it was because I was repulsive. Nobody can judge that because nobody had spent a whole day with me in conversation. I never made friends, I didn't want to. It was hard to, anyway. It's not that I was purposefully isolating myself from everybody in the first place, or trying to be different and "mysterious." I'm convinced everyone is either dead or tries too hard to be part of the television clichés that it was useless to really speak to anybody. Maybe being impatient myself was a flaw nobody would want to deal with. So nothing really mattered. I made no effort to make friends with anyone. And it's been like that since freshman year. After all, I'm just another immature, shit seventeen-year-old.

[ "I Died Inside"  muffled]

Soon, as the crowd gradually began to simmer down, I found my locker and exchanged a few things from my backpack for next class. I can't believe that having to go through the crowd of students took most of passing period. It's always been short, anyway. I don't really know why. For being a public school, it's really trying to avoid the high school clichés. We barely had time for anything.

Once I was done, I slammed the locker closed and went off to next period.

[ "I Died Inside"  stops playing]

Nothing important occurred ever at all. It was the same routine, and the only change that happened was the units and lesson topics, changed seatings, and so forth. It wasn't only at school, either. Every day was the fucking same. Everything was fucking boring. Staying home on weekends and after school, doing absolutely nothing, waiting until the scintillating sunlight leaked from the half-closed blinds in my room to fade away to nighttime again. I'd kill to have a life that wasn't this. I felt like a zombie, really, and I think everyone else was too. Just mindlessly bumping into things in front of them because of their diminutive brain. It was like everyone in this town was a walking corpse. I fucking hated it all.

I found my way inside the math classroom and dropped my backpack on the floor beside my chair, sitting down at my desk, my palms on the cold, wooden surface of the table. I heard strewn chattering from the kids all around me and the teacher was just at her large box computer, going to the front of the class afterward.

She told us simply to get out our textbooks and I did so, flipping around random pages until she'd tell us which page we really should have been on. As I nonchalantly flipped through, I saw some indolent sketches and doodles on the sides that I drew from other times.

And even the drawings were fucking boring.

Suddenly, my head popped up briskly from looking down at the book as I heard the sound of the door opening. The door was really old, so it made a squeaky shrill every time it was opened or closed. At the door was the boy from science, my lab partner, Gerard. The class had just gone mute as they all stared at him in extreme disdain. Gerard didn't go to math this period, so that was probably why everyone was acting so strange about him. It was too incongruously strange, in fact, which was another perceptible flaw of this town. He gulped as he noticed all the eyes scornfully watching him and then quickly turned to the teacher, giving her some sort of paper and an orange envelope underneath it.

"From the front office," he said in a raspy voice, crucially tearing the nasty silence. The room was so quiet that if he spoke once more, I'd be hearing an echo. His voice sounded really dry, and I think it was because he hadn't spoken in a long time and never cleared his throat before. This made his tone sound a bit deeper than usual, as it always was a bit more high-pitched. The teacher, Ms. Lewis, held the items and muttered a thanks, the slight sound of paper being rubbed against paper filling the room. Gerard finally cleared his throat and nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. She took out a paper from the envelope, skimmed it, then put it back in, placing it and the other paper that was separate from it, on her desk.

But after he left, a few students started to talk with each other and it got to a point it was deafening until the teacher spoke loudly about, I don't know, the page number and how the boy leaving the classroom wasn't an invitation to start talking again.

Gerard was a peculiar boy. He wasn't interesting though, like how the rest of the people here weren't either. Again, I never thought of anybody as interesting in my life at all. Maybe because I didn't care enough. But he was in fact, peculiar. He stood out from the other kids, well, from my view, and he was tremendously soundless as if he had just been tranquilized. It was like he was in a shell that had a small opening and just a few cracks so that people could properly hear him whenever he merely spoke.

Math ended after an agonizingly lengthy 85 minutes. I'm surprised I'm receiving okay grades because I actually don't do much. I don't really think the teachers here care about their job too much, so they just grade whatever. That's my theory, at least. After this period, it was lunch, and everyone left in a whole scramble by the door, again.

[Verse 1 of  "DemiRep"  by Bikini Kill playing]

I'm not a fan of the school lunch. I never was. Who would be, anyway? It was always so stale and never tasted right. Once I have gone to the cafeteria and retrieved a tray with the deplorable meal on it, I sat at an empty table, observing every other one that was full of people laughing and chatting. I then opened the small carton of chocolate milk and inserted those small straws they would give us. I brought it up to my mouth and sipped it, placing it back on the tray afterward.

I was just about to take a bite out of my sandwich until I jumped, alarmed by the sudden sound of a tray full of school lunch falling flat beside mine. Someone then sat down on the bench next to me. It was Gerard. He faced me.

[ "DemiRep"  muffled]

"Hey," I greeted quietly.

He cleared his throat, and thank god for that. "Hey."

[ "DemiRep"  stops playing]

As I started to eat, he took off his black backpack and put it on the bench next to him, zipping it open and taking out a paper packet. He placed it on the table and slid it in my direction, clearing his throat again to speak. "You dropped this at the end of science," he mumbled.

I put the sandwich back on the tray and idly scanned the snobby paper. My name was on the top in my handwriting, along with some more stupid doodles I did out of boredom. The packet was some kind of introduction to some crappy project.

I wasn't a very rude person, though. At least just when someone approaches me for something simple. "Thanks," I muttered, grabbing my backpack and shoving the packet inside.

I kept eating in complete silence, despite all the surrounding students conversing and laughing with each other, and Gerard was just eating beside me. And I think this allowed me to pay more attention to his appearance. He had thick, wavy dark strands that were nearly black. And to be completely honest, it appeared a bit greasy, but it was his whole style and had fit him very well. It was kind of weird to think further into it. He had a few thin, long bangs that would sometimes go over his face, but not too much. You couldn't really tell which way his hair was parted, maybe a little to the side. It was so messy that it looked neat and natural, if that made any sense. He had soft pale skin, it was probably a pale ivory. There were fainted, small freckles painted around his rounded face, but maybe only if you look close enough. The roundness of his jaw made him look really innocent and sweet. That there was no way he could have committed any sin in his life at all. He was sort of like a baby, but one that loved listening to Carrie Brownstein and Pulp. Well, that was one of the few things I knew about him: having a passionate fondness for Britpop. He possessed hazel irises that would have a greener tint in the light and brown when it's dark. I wasn't really sure how to explain it. His eyelashes were dark and pretty long. They looked nice. He looked like somebody you wanted to be ridiculously careful with because of fragile he appeared. I guess I never really realized how soft he seemed.

"Do you like eating here alone?" he said abruptly, breaking the silence and my train of thought, which made me lightly jump. His voice was delicate too when I thought more about it.

To answer his question, I liked the silence, really. It allowed me to contemplate more instead of being interrupted by someone asking multiple questions like a fucking cop interrogating me. Being lonesome just felt right; I didn't have to deal with any bullshit.

I swallowed the bite of the sandwich I chewed in my mouth and turned my head to look at him. "Yes."

"Can I ask why?" I would be complaining about how nosy he seemed, but I guess that's a way of someone trying to start a conversation. They always ended up in me repelling whoever tried to talk to me, though. But I thought I'd answer his question anyway so it would conceivably lead to that.

"I don't like when other people are around. It gives me a... weird feeling..." I began. There was a short pause. "I hate having to give an effort to either look at a person and tell them to shut the fuck up and leave me alone at lunch. I just want to be alone in peace and eat without any interruptions. A lot of people started to figure that out here, I guess, which is why they don't approach me anymore. I hate when people would just sit there, expecting me to say something to them when I don't want to say anything," I explained concisely as Gerard raised an eyebrow in disarray. "Now..." I began. "Shut the fuck up... and leave me alone..." I paused. "Please?"

[ "I Wonder Why"  by Dion & The Belmonts playing]

I knew he didn't deserve that. I knew I had just acted like a total asshole right now. He didn't even speak enough to be shut up. There was something about always rejecting people who would try to talk to me when I was busy. I would get annoyed easily and angry. But I knew that Gerard didn't deserve that. I guess I never felt guilty about it until he had approached me. It was weird.

He smiled slightly and put his arms down, reaching for his milk carton and opening it. He drank some and put it back on the table, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve. "Okay."

He didn't smile in an embarrassed way like how other people would react when I'd tell them that. Instead, it was a smile of amusement. Kind of like he was entertained. Did he want this reaction? Or did he just think it was funny?

He stood up and grabbed his tray, walked to another table far from the one I sat at, and started to eat. As time passed and I ate, I would see him get a glance in my direction. Each time I would take bites out of my sandwich or drink my milk, I'd look up to see Gerard looking at me, and then he'd quickly look back at his lunch tray. I tended to ignore it. I could feel his eyes on me. Maybe he hated me now or thought something else of me. To think about it, I surprisingly did the more talking this time compared to the other times someone would try to talk to me during lunch. They would always talk more and point out how lonely I was. It was pretty weird...

Gerard is interesting... Peculiar, as well as interesting.