#it’s so good and there’s so many bats we’ll never run out of options

[lehana37]

I cannot stop thinking about how relentlessly upset Danny would be about being used to kill (depending on where he is in his own personal timeline and if Damian is still in the LoA or w Bruce) except this is like The Artifact and Damian refuses to not use it so it’s just a battle of wills and attrition and snark because Damian Needs to do the Thing but Danny will randomly shout “BOO” to give away his location before Damian can kill anyone. He will conversely leap to Damians defense entirely on his own except despite being a sword this sword seems very bad at sword fighting and seems to get by mostly on bonking people with its own pommel and then hovering over Damian like it wants to check him for wounds but knows it’s sharp and would cut him so it’s just gently patting him with the flat of its own blade much to Damian’s disgust but he will conquer this sword or he’s not an Al Ghul damnit.

Danny somehow some way accidentally gets stuck possessing bat man's cape

Now this isn't so bad for them danny gets a safe warm place to live and bruce gets what is basically the cloak of levitation plus the ability to hide in shadows (literally) and the presence of an eldritch entity

Unfortunately said entity is apparently a mother hen to rival Alfred (Alfred makes sure to take care washing the cloak afrer learning this)

Side note he can still eat while in the cloak the family find this out after bruce comes to dinner still wearing the cape and it latches over the dinner about a minute later it retracts leaving a empty plate

All magic users can now sense Batman from the EXTREMELY powerful aura coming from his cape.

[episodicnostalgia]

Star Trek: The Next Generation, 111 (Jan. 9, 1988) - “The Big Goodbye”

Written by: Tracy Torme Directed by: Joseph L. Scanlan

The Breakdown

Picard is prepping for an especially stressful diplomatic mission wherein he is required to recite a specific speech in a complex alien language with a species that is deadly serious about grammar; Empasis on the word ‘deadly’. Noting his mounting anxiety, Beverly Crusher writes Picard a prescription for… a play date on the holodeck, and amazingly Picard takes the doctor’s orders to heart.  In fact, Jean Luc has such a good time playing a noir private-eye thriller that he invites Beverly, Data, and the ship’s 20th century literary buff along with him (his name isn’t important, because we’ll never see him again).  Unfortunately, this transpires at the same time that our Grammar-specific aliens arrive, pre-emptively scanning the ship, which accidentally locks the holodeck and takes the safety protocols offline in one fell swoop (which seems like a pretty substantial design flaw).

While Picard misses every single advance that Crusher makes towards Picard (and folks I gotta tell you, she’s REALLY not being subtle about it), the holo-adventure begins to take a turn for the worse as the program’s mobster-villains show up with fully lethal weapons, which they happily use on Picard’s history-nerd friend (who remarkably survives, but barely). Meanwhile the literal-grammar-nazi-aliens are getting impatient with Riker’s inability to produce Picard for their scheduled meeting (apparently explaining that a ship malfunction has Picard temporarily incapacitated isn’t a viable option).  Thankfully the holodeck door eventually opens, and Picard is able to convince the mobsters to walk through first, causing them to disappear (since there are no holo-emitters in the corridor).  And so Picard is free to deliver his nonsense speech to the grammar enthusiasts, and the day is saved.

The Verdict

Finally! A holodeck Episode!

‘The Big Goodbye’ gives us our first “just-for-fun” episode and it’s about goddamn time. Oh don’t misunderstand, the episode is exactly as ridiculous as what I’ve described above, but for the most part it’s intentional, and in this case it makes all the difference.  I’ve always had a soft spot for holodeck stories, because it gives us a look into what the crew get up to when they aren’t spouting techno-babble, debating the prime directive, or dealing with transporter disasters.

Picard also gets to have some fun here, meaning this might be the first time he doesn’t come across as a total buzzkill. Aside from some clunky pacing and a slightly anticlimactic ending, this is a pretty fun episode.  Superior holodeck adventures would follow, but this one had to walk so the others could run.

3 stars (out of 5)

Additional Observations

Based on what we've seen this season, it would seem that the holodeck is still a fairly new technology, especially considering how Picard marvels at what it can do.

Right off the bat, this episode clearly establishes that holodeck characters are/can become self aware, and are capable experiencing fear (and likely pain). This is just the first of many times that Star Trek will play at this across multiple shows. As fun as these episodes are, it’s always struck me that there should be a greater ethical consideration for Holo-people and their rights.

I have always wondered why the ability to remove safety protocols was ever an option, especially on a holodeck that’s accessible to both crew and civilians alike.

Picard has no business being so clueless about women. In fact when it comes to relationships and courtship the entire crew seems to possess the emotional intelligence of an average 14-year-old.

I gotta hand it to Patrick Stewart, even when he’s spewing absolute nonsense alien gibberish, he commits 100%.

I never mentioned the set design, but this episode also looks great.  Really fun to see the noir aesthetic on Star Trek.

[realcube]

OVERHEARING SOMEONE TALK ABOUT THEIR S/O

characters ♡ baji, mikey & mitsuya

tw ♡ insults (in reference to the reader), violence & robbery 

KEISUKE BAJI 

♡ baji never mentioned that he was dating you to anyone in toman

♡ in fact, he hoped that none of them even knew about your existence, because that would only lead to trouble; and he was correct

♡ he was simply taking a puff on his stationary motorcycle, when members of the division started to filter into the parking lot that he was currently trying to relax in

♡ usually he’d try to ward off strangers so he could enjoy his time alone but he knew these guys from toman, so he allowed them to stay as long as they’d keep their voices down and not bother him

♡ most of his attention was on his own thoughts, but it was immediately redirected when he heard your name brought up in their conversation

♡ only your last name, so he wasn’t even certain whether they were talking about you, but still his interest was piqued 

♡ “they are on shift friday night, the only one left at eleven,” one of the guys explained, gesturing to his bat with a wicked smirk, “we’ll break in then. i’ll drive getaway.”

♡ “what if they call someone? shouldn’t we wait until they’ve left?” another suggested but was quickly corrected.

♡ “once they lock up the security system activates and it’ll be impossible to get in without alerting the cops. so we may as well bust in, handle them, and then steal the bikes.” 

♡ baji cringed, since he was certain that they were talking about you —since you happen to work at a motorcycle shop on friday nights — he hated to think about what they meant by ‘handle’.

♡ “now stop askin’ stupid questions.” the same guy scoffed, twirling around his bat, “i used to work there, idiot, obviously i know what i’m doing.”

♡ the group of six all laughed at the one poor guy who asked the question, and baji did too

♡ he laughed at the irony behind how they were calling each other idiots, when they were all the ones talking about auto theft in broad daylight, and discussing doing unspeakable things to a person, when their boyfriend was standing in ear-shot with a bat and a motorcycle ready 

♡ he did give them the benefit of the doubt in the latter aspect though; how were they supposed to know that y’all were dating when you are never seen spending time with each other?

♡ baji suddenly felt bad; it dawned on him that perhaps he had been neglecting your relationship as of recently. of course, it wasn’t with poor intention, in fact he thought he was taking the moral course of action by avoiding a situation where you are harmed because of his ties with toman

♡ however, being in a gang was no excuse to be a bad boyfriend, he figured 

♡ for now, the least he could do was take care of these guys to save you the trouble 

♡ but perhaps that wasn’t his brightest idea, he realised as he stood amongst the dejected bodies scattered across the ground, “i know you are all alive, so consider this a warning.” baji chuckled at the grunt one produced as he kicked him aside to head back over to his motorcycle

♡ before he left the area, obviously he stole all the cash he could from those guys, which gave him enough to buy the thing he had been eyeing for you

♡ though it took him a while to get his hands on it, it left him with the perfect opportunity to give it to you 

♡ “oi, open up!” baji hollered as he pounded on your door; if baji wasn’t such a bruiser, you would’ve thought he was dying 

♡ “what!?” you hissed, throwing the door open to reveal your frantic state.

♡ you were half angry at how loud he was being, and the other half at how he has been ignoring you for the past two weeks and finally decides to show up just as you were about to leave for work, in fact, you were running late for your night shift

♡ “no need to rush.” baji said, an odd sense of sincerity in his voice as he motioned for you to stop putting your shoes on, “you’re not going to work today.”

♡ you simply laughed, ignoring him and gathering your stuff to leave, “and why is that?”

♡ “well,” baji started, rubbing his chin for effect, “these guys from toman plan on robbing the place tonight. i did give them a warning, but they might still do it. and you know i just want you to be safe.” he said with a mischievous grin, as you both knew there was no way your shop was getting robbed tonight, unless the dudes wanted to try it with both arms broken 

♡ “so did you just come here to tell me that, or is there something else?” although you tried to hide it, baji could tell by your subtle flustered expression that you were thankful

♡ “i found this.” he lied, cupping your hand to lift it and drop in a gold bracelet, “one of the guys had it on him.”

♡ you gasped, taking the bracelet to examine the fine details, and noticed how it had a small crystal heart attached, “yeah, i’m sure a member of toman just so happened to be wearing a charm bracelet.”

♡ “i never said he was wearing it!” baji spat, swiftly snatching it from your hand and holding it above his head, “i can pawn it if you don’t want it.” 

♡ “i like it, though!” you said, reaching up for it, only for him to grab your wrist and put it on you 

♡ “then forgive me for not hanging with you.” he muttered, angrily clipping the bracelet through furrowed brows, while you leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead 

♡ “it’s fine. i forgive you.” you couldn’t help but snicker at his word choice of ‘hanging out’, which resulted in you getting a swift flick to the forehead

♡ but before you could whine, he quickly followed it up with a kiss <33

MIKEY 

♡ one day he was visiting mizo to find takemichi and he happened to walk passed a group of guys talking about how one of them planned on asking out a person from a different school 

♡ at first he didn’t pay much attention since it was none of his business after all, until he heard that the person’s name and description just so happened to match yours 

♡ so like any good boyfriend would, he halted and told draken to grab takemichi while he listened in 

♡ as he gained more insight into the situation, he learned that the person happened to go to the same academy as you and had the same bus schedule too 

♡ it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the person they were talking about was you 

♡ as it turns out, the guy who planned on asking you out had your bus times memorised so if he was able to run fast enough, he would be able to reach your stop before you got on the bus, which is when he will ask you out

♡ or at least, that is what he hoped would happen if everything went smoothly and there was no unexpected interference from a group of delinquents

♡ mikey had many options on how to deal with this situation

♡ he could ask you to take a different bus, he could do nothing (because he trusted that you’d reject the guy either way) or he could beat them up right now to save himself the hassle later

♡ however, he decided to go with a more peaceful approach 

♡ he continued eaves-dropping until everyone besides the lover boy had left, so he could have an amicable one-on-one conversation with him — definitely no threats involved — and advise the guy to stay in his fucking lane and never go near you ever again, kindly. 

♡ when the day of the proposal arrived, mikey paid you a surprise visit after school and offered to walk you to the bus-stop; not because he was afraid that the dude might confess, but rather since he had booked you both tickets to the movies!

♡ but once you both arrive at the stop, you were greeted by the guy standing there holding a measly bouquet of flowers, looking quite taken back by the fact you were with someone else; even though mikey had done him the courtesy of explicitly telling him to back off 

♡ though he must’ve not got message despite the hand-holding, and he obviously didn’t recognise mikey, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have continued to confess, albeit with quivering limbs and a black eye

♡ but before he could even stutter out a greeting, mikey hissed at him, “what the are you doing?” yet the guy only replied with a shrug

♡ upon observing the interaction, your eyes widen as you turned to look at mikey, “do you know him?”

♡ “never seen him before in my life, dear.” he smiled sweetly, but it was ineffective; you already knew he was lying as soon as he called you ‘dear’. 

♡ “(y/n)!” the guy yelled, trying to catch your attention, but only shaking even more as your gaze fell on him, “i was going to ask you, if—”

♡ mikey let out an exaggerated yawn, widely outstretching his arms to distract both of you, “this has been fun, but we’re running late for the movie.” 

♡ “but i’m not fin—” the poor boy was once again interrupted by mikey waving him goodbye, grabbing your hand and swiftly guiding you around him, back on the route to the cinema

♡ before he even got the chance to cry another plea, you had both already disappeared around the corner 

♡ once mikey had dragged you both far enough away from the bus-stop, you began your interrogation, “seriously, who was that? and what was he trying to say? did you give him the black eye?” you had to stop to take a deep breath, “also, you said the movie would start in the evening!”

♡ mikey brought your hand up —which he had a tight grip on — and kissed the back of it gently, “my bad,” he chuckled slightly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, “i forgot to mention him. i met him a few days ago and he was planning to ask you out so i politely informed him that you were taken.”

♡ “for some reason, i don’t believe that last part.”

♡ he snickered, “and yeah, the movie starts in the evening so we’re not running late. but he wasn’t taking the hint!” he whined while clinging to your arm, as if you were going to run away from him at any second, “forgive me?”

♡ “sure, whatever.” you sighed, rolling your eyes as you watched his expression light up, “but next time, mind your own business! i could’ve just said no, instead of you beating him up, or whatever you did.”

♡ “noted.”

MITSUYA TAKASHI

♡ during his time as the second division leader of toman, he’s overheard all kinds of stuff that he probably wasn’t supposed to; awkward small talk, plans to commit felonies, deep conversations, weed brownie recipes, discussions about health issues — the list goes on forever!

 ♡ however, one topic he has never heard any one ever have the audacity to speak about (within a ten mile radius of him), is you. even though, your relationship was public to toman. 

♡ your name was often kept out of people’s mouth since you rarely interacted with any of the gang members when you visited, hence they didn’t really have anything bad (or good) to say about you. none of them knew you besides the title ‘boss’ partner’. 

♡ so, that’s why mitsuya had to do a double take when he heard someone in his division mutter to the guy beside him, “why does his friend keep visitin’? it’s annoying. plus, they just sit and don’t talk to anyone besides ‘im. they must think they’re better than us or something.” right after mitsuya mentioned that you were visiting toman.

♡ he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow; did that guy really think that he was being sly and quiet? by the look on his face, he seemed pretty self-assured. 

♡ “um, i heard you, idiot.” he hissed, pinching his nose and shaking his head as he watched the knucklehead stare at him dumbfounded, as if the whole room hadn’t heard him too.

♡ “don’t say shit like that. they don’t think they’re better than anyone.” he scorned, balling his fist and almost twitching with anger, fighting the urge to pummel that guy for the sake of his own reputation in toman

♡ and that impulse almost immediately dissipated as soon as you entered the room; his hand loosened and opened to cup your cheek

♡ he was as sweet as can be for the rest of the night, of course, and he still managed to send that dude daggers whenever he got the chance. 

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

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

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though,  all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.  

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.  

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.  

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.  

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud. 

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.  

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms​ @khjssss​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek​

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78 

[littleredwing89]

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

Warnings – Language. Kidnapping. Stalking. Mild Violence. Angst. Hurt.

Word Count: 4,870

A/N: This is the final chapter everyone, sorry for the little delay, I was working on a few of the actions scenes to ensure they were good. I really hope you all like this xoxo

~~~

It had been almost a month. Every lead turned into a dead end. Nothing. Much like the Joker himself, no one knew a thing. The whole thing was tearing Jason apart. He’d barely slept. He’d maybe had 3 hours per night. If that, and he was convinced the only reason he got sleep was because Bruce had slipped him something in his coffee.

The fourth cassette tape came with a dead yellow rose and a rotten apple. He pushed play on the recorder and swallowed thickly as the grainy camera zoomed in on your face. You looked pale. Your cheeks looked hollow and your once colourful eyes looked gaunt. Haunted.

“Well Jason, I’m a man of my word...I’ve been looking after her so good”, Joker laughed hysterically and smoothed his hand down your cheek, smacking it lightly. The slap caused you to jolt in the chair. A sharp gasp flew out of your chapped lips.

Jason felt Bruce’s hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. The notion sent a brief wave of calm through Jason. Maybe this was how Bruce felt all those years ago...when he received similar tape of ..of himself. Jason turned back to the screen and focused his eyes. Searching for a clue. Anything. Something to bring you back to him.

“She’s been such a good little princess bird boy...she’s done everything I asked...and more”, Joker whistled happily as he tapped your nose with a wicked smile. Jason felt his heart stop and looked directly into your eyes through the screen. Good he wanted to hold you in his arms and never let you go. 

The tape skipped and replayed the same thing back, “...and more”. It skipped again, “...and more”. Jason growled and the tape paused before going completely black.

His fist smashed into the computer keyboard, pieces of black plastic scattering across the desk. Jason released a loud sobbing noise and sank to the cold stone floor of the bat cave. His eyes scrunched shut tightly, imagining you were in front of him. Giving him that silly smile you always did when you first woke up. It was one of his favourite smiles. You had hundreds of different types of smiles. The one you gave him when he hugged you randomly. The one you’d give him when he told you a stupid joke. The one you’d show him when you were both standing down one of the grocery aisles for no reason at all.

“Jason...son - we will find her - I promise you”, Bruce’s deep voice shattered Jason’s illusion of you in his mind.

“It’s been so long...what if-”, Jason ran a hand over his face. The stubble was longer, causing him to itch.

“Don’t”, Bruce warned, “don’t think like that. We will find her”.

~~~

The last cassette tape Jason received was covered in a dark, red sticky substance. Jason knew what it was but he didn’t know if it was yours. Before Jason could even think about playing it, Bruce had prized it from his fingers.

“Jason we need to analyse the blood, it might give us a clue”, his voice was stable and deep. He attempted to reassure Jason with a firm grip to the shoulder but it did nothing. Jason felt empty without you.

“We need to watch-”, Jason started but was interrupted by Bruce.

“No, I’ll watch it. You need to get some sleep, let me do this Jason. Please”, Bruce pleaded desperately, “You haven’t slept in over 48 hours”.

Jason laughed but it was hollow and sharp, “You really think I can sleep knowing she’s stuck with that fucking psycho?!”.

Bruce sighed and ran a hand over his face, “Jason I know you want to get Y/N back”, he placed the cassette onto a high tech scanning machine, it bleeped repeatedly as it scanned over the material, “But we all need to be working together and that means recharging our batteries”.

Jason scoffed and pushed past Bruce looking over the computer scanner typing something into the system, “So you’re telling me you went and had an eight hour sleep when Joker caught me?”.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “Jason”.

“JUST STOP!!”, Jason's voice cracked as he shouted and for a moment, he sounded like the broken man in the abandoned shopping mall that long Halloween night many years ago.

“I-I need to do this Bruce. I-I have to, for Y/N”, his voice was scratchy and raw. 

Bruce simply nodded and turned around. He extracted the cassette from the blood stained cloth and pushed it into the player to the right. Bruce took a secondary glance to Jason, giving him one last option but Jason just stared at the screen, waiting to see what the tape would show.

The second the tape played, the batcave was filled with your screams. They sounded broken and dry. Jason’s heart shattered. The shards stabbing him painfully. As you came into view on the camera, your long h/c hair was matted and stuck to your face. Blood staining it a deep red.

The Joker came into the view of the camera and smiled wide, his teeth showing.

“Jason, I see why you’re so attached to this woman, she’s very fiery...her spirit is impenetrable”.

A flicker of evil flew through his eyes at that word and a sick smile slid onto his lips, “but that’s fine. I’m sure I can find more penetrable spots”.

You tug harshly at your binds as he turned and came closer to you, a small blade held in his gloves hand.

“Hold still princess or I might accidentally cut an important part of you...or slit something”.

The blade cut the straps of your top, and the material fluttered down uselessly to the floor, exposing your padded black bra. The Joker whistled appreciatively and winked back at the camera.

“I say Jason...maybe I’m missing out not having a significant other...especially when they’re as beautiful as this”.

Jason had edged so close to the screen Bruce had to pull him back. Tears were running hotly down his cheeks and he swore he tasted blood from biting down on his bottom lip.

Your voice echoed through the empty warehouse room and through the camera speakers, “GO FUCK YOURSELF”.

The Joker smirked down at you and the blade was pressed against the skin of your neck.

“You should watch your manners, princesses don’t speak like that”.

You gulped and looked into his soulless eyes and laughed. It almost sounded as maniacal as his.

“I’m not your fucking princess”.

You spat at his face. Your spit mingled with blood from the earlier smack around the face.

“He’ll come for me...I know he will. And when he does, it’ll be all over for you”.

Something snapped and you saw his eyes darken. His face twisted and the scowl was demonic.

“You filthy fucking bitch!”, he roared and dropped the knife to wipe his face.

Joker turned to the camera and glowered, “I hope you’re watching Jason whilst I teach this rotten little whore some manners!”.

The first blow caused you to cry out in agony. It was harsh and fast. The sound to Jason was ear splitting. The second hit was drawn out and heavy. Designed to bruise. The third was sharp and felt like hundreds of tiny needles piercing your skin. The Joker was laughing wildly all the way through it. Never ceasing his treatment. As he swung his arm back for the fourth hit, the camera jarred and caught a window. Streams of light shone through. Jason could just about make out a sign. It was blurry.

“REWIND AND PAUSE IT BRUCE! There!!!”, he called and waited for Bruce to zoom in.

“Can you clear up that image...that looks like a road sign...”.

Bruce skipped the tape back several seconds, muting the sounds on the screen. The sounds of you getting smacked in the face shaking him to his core. 

“THERE!!! LOOK!! Can you see?!”, Jason pressed his face as close as possible to the screen as Bruce paused it, the image flickered but the road sign was obvious. 

ACE CHEMICALS.

Before Bruce could even react, Jason had launched himself across the cave, guns strapped to his thighs.

“Jason!”.

Jason ignored Bruce and grabbed his helmet, securing it into place whilst dropping extra magazine clips into his inner jacket pockets.

“Jason, we can’t just go in there all guns blazing. That’s what he’ll want! We have to think about this”, Bruce reasoned and moved into his path.

Huffing in annoyance, Jason’s modulator covered it easily, “I’m going to get her whether you come with me or not”.

Bruce looked stunned for a split second before softening his voice, “You’re letting your emotions get the better of you - they’re clouding your judgment Jason”.

He knew he was right, deep down. But the pressure. The torture you must have endured. Everything. It weighed down on Jason and began to suffocate him slowly. The more time he wasted, the worse it was going to be. He couldn’t do it.

“Let me get into my suit and we’ll tackle this together”.

Nodding briefly, Jason watched Bruce make his way across to the darkened corner of the cave where his suit was behind a glass panel. As Bruce pressed his palm into the wall, the biometric scanner bleeped. The case slid open slowly and Bruce began to take out the suit piece by piece. The batarangs refracted the light they caught from the computer screens.

Fuck. It was taking too long, these precious seconds. He could be half way there by now. His bike was too far away, in the garage at the front of the manor. He side eyed the batmobile and swallowed thickly.

“Fuck it”.

Taking the keys from the secret sliding panel on the desk, Jason leapt into the batmobile before starting the engine and speeding out of the cave. He swore he heard Bruce shouting, he was certain he heard several curse words too. Unlike Bruce. But it was taking too long. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t leave you. You needed him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

~~~

Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

“Come on...come on!!”, Jason cursed to himself, hitting the steering wheel in fury. All the money Bruce had and it wouldn’t go any faster? He took a sharp turn heading towards the abandoned warehouse behind ACE Chemicals. He was so close. So much closer to reaching you. He’d deal with Bruce later. He couldn’t have waited any longer. Bruce would just have to get over him ‘borrowing’ the batmobile.

Swerving another corner and narrowly dodging the underpass columns, he pulled up in front of the derelict building. Almost all of the windows were smashed and hued green with mould. Maybe some of the toxins spewed from the factory had helped taint the glass further.

Grabbing both of his pistols, Jason left the car and headed towards the building fire escape. He could hear voices chattering.

“Joker said to keep an eye out for Batman”.

A goon; Jason noted peering around the brick wall spotting two of them. He noticed the metal railings above them creaking slightly in the strong winds.

“It’s been over a month now and there’s been no sign of any of the Bat freaks, it’s fine, let’s go grab a beer. He won’t even notice”, a second one encouraged the other smirking.

“You really want to cross him? He’s fucking nuts. I’m surprised the girl has even lasted this long with him, you know what he’s like”.

Jason’s fist tightened around one of his guns at the mention of you. It had to be you. Silently firing his grapple gun, he flew up the side of the building and made his way towards the goons.

“Trust me”, the first one spoke again, “He won’t even realise we’re gone, plus we might find some chicks to-”.

Perching on the railings above them, Jason leapt down cracking the base of his pistols onto one of their heads.

“Pleasure to meet you both”, Jason kicked out at the second goon hearing the sick crack of his ankle snapping.

Spinning on his heel, Jason grabbed the other goon and threw him face first into the brick wall knocking him unconscious immediately before turning back to the other man on the floor whimpering in pain.

“Where is she?”, Jason’s voice was strained even with the modulator protecting him.

The man refused to answer, dragging himself away from Jason with his hands, mud covering his palms.

Taking a large step, Jason reached the man on the floor and purposely stood onto his swollen ankle before aiming the cocked pistol towards his skull.

“I won’t ask again, where is she?”.

The screech from the man was deafening as Jason applied a hefty amount of pressure to his fractured bone.

“Basement!! She’s in the basement!! Please!!”, he begged as his eyes flickered nervously to the gun.

Jason rolled his shoulders before smashing the hilt of his pistol into his skull knocking him out cold. He turned back towards the fire escape and grappled back up to the roof. He’d have to make his way through the building to get to the basement. To you. And if he knew Joker, he wouldn’t have made it that easy. The two idiots on the front door were a sick joke. Tormenting Jason. Getting you back wouldn’t be an easy task.

~~~

Silently dropping through the window on top of the building, Jason landed onto one of the rusty steel girders. It was dark but his helmet adjusted the night vision so he could see clearly. Several goons patrolling an old foreman’s office in the centre. You had to be in there. He needed to take these idiots out quietly before getting to you.

Swinging across to the next rafter, Jason looked down at the first unsuspecting moron. With the stealth of a panther, he landed silently behind the goon before wrapping his arm around his meaty neck. He struggled against the iron grip of Jason’s forearm but the pressure only intensified the more he thrashed. Eventually the squirming stopped and the goon fell limp in his arms. Jason dragged him across to a darkened corner and dumped him behind some barrels.

As he grappled back up to roof beams, he looked down across at the two henchmen digging out a packet of cigarettes. The idiots had left their guns resting against the far wall. Jason had to chuckle to himself, Joker really was hiring morons. Weren’t these guys supposed to be protection? 

Jason creeped across the rafters towards the two men and grabbed both of his pistols. He had to be silent. He couldn’t alert Joker to his presence.

“This is my last smoke”, one complained bitterly as the cigarette perched between his thin lips.

“I’ll get the next packet, quit your whining”, the second growled and patted his jacket for a lighter, “Fuck, where did I put my lighter?”.

“You’re a fucking moron. You asked to come for a smoke and you don’t even have a light!!”.

Now was his chance. Jason landed between them both, his boots thudding as he hit the concrete floor, “You know, smoking is bad for your health”. Before either of the goons could react, Jason lifted his elbow into the larger man's throat before smashing his pistol into the other man's temple, causing him to drop onto his knees. He slipped his guns back into his holsters quickly before turning to the other goon. He dodged the larger man’s grapple before twisting with ease and kicking out his kneecap. The man gasped but the elbow to his throat had killed off his voice.

Jason threw a heavy right hook into the larger man's nose and watched the blood trickle down his face. This seemed to only infuriate him more and he launched himself towards Jason viciously. Gripping both of his arms, Jason flipped the man over his body and slammed him into the floor hard before hammering punch after punch to his face, knocking him unconscious.

He turned quickly to the other man who was scrambling on his knees for the gun resting against the far wall.

“Sorry bud, but that can’t happen”, Jason grunted and landed a heavy kick to the goons stomach. The man yelped but it was quickly cut off by Jason as he slammed his boot into his face. He dropped onto the floor instantly.

Jason panted heavily and looked around the room, his helmet advising him of one more goon loitering around the door of the office. Looking down at the floor he noticed the floor grates wrapped around the room and more importantly under the henchmen’s feet. Perfect.

He lifted one of the grate coverings quietly and slipped under the flooring. He crouched down and edged around the room. The last goon was much larger and bulkier, with a machine gun strapped around his wide chest.

This goon seemed smarter than the others. Looking around and even checking up in the rafters. He grunted and pressed a button on his jacket, “No boss, still no sign of them...nothing Sir”.

The voice that patched through sent a chill down Jason’s spine. It was a tone that would be forever cemented in his mind, a reminder of his own torment.

“If you get ANY inclination the bat or any of his costumed freaks are in the building, you tell me immediately”.

“Yes boss”.

The static of the radio crackled before cutting off completely. Jason cursed mentally. This had to be precise. Perfection. He had to disable the henchman’s radio unit. Padding over his jacket he searched for the disrupter shooter he had. It wasn’t there. Fuck. He’d fucked up in his rush and left it behind. Fuck. Bruce was right. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then he heard it. A soft ping from above him. He knew that sound. Jason looked up from the grate and spotted Nightwing hidden in the shadows with his own disrupter. Pointed directly at the goon’s radio system.

“Thought you might need a hand”, Dick patched into Jason’s com line.

Jason growled under his breath, “Thanks”.

“Shall we take this moron out together?”.

“Yes”, Jason muttered before switching his com off and inched closer to the goon.

The second Nightwing flew down from the roof beams, Jason jumped out of the floor grate and kicked out the back of the goons knees. He cursed loudly before Nightwing’s foot landed in his face.

Jason swore he saw a tooth fly out of his mouth along with a glob of blood. He aimed several hard punches to the side of the henchman’s head whilst Nightwing disabled his gun and radio with a graceful poise.

“All this for the girl? She’s nothing but a shell”, the goon smirked across at Jason before choking at the next punch.

“Joker’s hollowed her out...she’s nothing”, he spat out.

His temper flared and his hand subconsciously reached for his pistol. Dick realised and before anything could happen, he landed an electrical ecrisma blow to the goons head, knocking him out cold. His body crashed onto the floor with a loud thump.

“Jason-”.

“Don’t”, Jason cut him off, “I’m fine”.

He took several steps towards the office door and swallowed thickly. You. You’d be in there. You’d told Joker with the last ounce of confidence left that he’d come for you. He’d never leave you. You were right. Jason would never have stopped looking. Ever.

His hand rested on the door handle, trembling only slightly. What if he was too late. What if this was just another trick?

Drawing his hand back almost as though the door had burnt him. He frowned. He couldn’t think like this. No. He had to be strong. Just like you had been in all those videos. You’d been fierce. Your spirit still pouring through to him.

Jason glared angrily at the door and took a step back before kicking it open furiously with his combat boot. The door flew open wildly and as the dust settled. He saw Joker stood in the middle of the room, a sick, satisfied smirk sat proudly on his demented face.

~~~

“Jason my boy! It’s a pleasure to see you again”, his chuckle was deep and sinister, “I see you're still hiding your face though...is that because of what I did?”. The Joker’s eyes danced with delirious joy at the memories.

“I’d have thought you’d have embraced all your scars by now Jason...”, The Joker edged forward leaving you tied up behind him.

Jason rounded The Joker, clicking a button to the side of his mask, revealing his face, his eyes hidden with the domino mask, “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, clown”.

Jason let his eyes run over you for a second. You were bruised and bloodied. Clothes torn and tattered from mistreatment. Your eyes. God. Your beautiful E/C eyes. Red raw from countless tears. Somehow you still managed to give him a smile from behind The Joker. His heart fluttered. God he’d missed your smile.

Tearing his eyes from you he looked back towards The Joker and held his pistols out at him, finger hovering over the trigger. Jason felt the burn mark on his cheek stinging all over again. Pain ever present.

“You don’t have the guts”, The Joker laughed again and walked forward pressing his forehead into the barrel of the gun.

“You wouldn’t dare pull that trigger. I’m your Ace card Jason. You can’t kill me. You want to but you can’t...something will always stop you”.

Jason felt his hand shaking slightly. Everything was throbbing in his mind.

“Even after everything I’ve done to your girl, you still can’t pull that trigger”, The Joker taunted further and grinned sadistically.

“If only you knew where I’d touched...what I’ve done...”, he pushed further into the cold metal of the gun and winked at Jason, “Go on, do it, I dare you...if you don’t- I’m just going to keep coming back and who knows what I’ll do to our little princess next-”.

BANG.

A gun shot blasted through the air. Smoke drifted slowly from the barrel, dancing into the darkness around them.

“JASON!”.

Nightwing had thrown one of his ecrisma sticks to Jason’s gun, knocking it off target. The bullet shattered the brickwork behind them, dust erupting.

Crashing down through one of the broken windows on top of the office roof, Nightwing flew towards The Joker tackling him down onto the damp, concrete floor before he could launch himself at Jason.

Still startled, Jason watched Dick wrestling with The Joker on the floor, punches flying back and forth.

Dick turned to Jason, “Y/N-Jason!! Go get Y/N!! I’ll handle this!”.

The Joker was shrieking with laughter underneath Dick, blood pouring down his lip and from his nose.

“Ahhhh another boy blunder!! I must be lucky!! Two for the price of one!”.

Dick threw another punch and reached for the second ecrisma stick on his back, “I can’t wait to cart you back to the Asylum. I hope you’re looking forward to your 5 star stay in a windowless cesspit!”.

Jason could hear Joker continually laughing at Dick, until the sharp sound of electrical buzzing cut him off with a loud scream.

He almost fell over his own feet as he raced towards you. Jason quickly untied your hands and the second they were free you flung them around his neck, sobbing into his neck. Your tears dropping onto his brown leather jacket.

“Oh baby”, Jason stroked your hair and held you tightly to him. He was worried he was crushing you but you seemed to be squeezing him back just as hard.

You didn’t stop sobbing. The overwhelming emotion of being wrapped in his safe, strong arms make your knees buckle. Jason caught you with ease and lifted you up, “It’s ok baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”.

Jason was one step away from breaking down himself but he needed to be strong for you right now.

You pressed your skin against his, the scratch of his stubble a welcome sting against your cheek. His scent overwhelmed you. Leather. Gunpowder. Smoke. And something distinct you’d never been able to place.

“Jason”.

“Shhh, it’s ok - nothing is going to hurt you, I’m here now - I’m a bit late but I’m here”.

~~~

It had been one week since you’d been back home. Two weeks if you counted the first week you and Jason spent holed up in the manor. Bruce had insisted. You sat in the bathtub, knees pressed up against your bare chest. Silence. All you could hear was the faint crackle of the bubbles every now and again. The clinical white tiles of the bathroom made you feel a little cleaner.

However,  no matter how many baths you took, showers you stood in, you still couldn’t wipe the feel of the slick purple gloves off your skin. Your skin. Skin that was now marred with yellowish bruising. Almost faded physically but not mentally. Looking over the marks you felt yourself transported back into the desolate warehouse. The dank smell of stagnant water filling your nostrils. You choked and coughed loudly, suddenly feeling the oxygen clam up your throat. Drowning in the memories.

“Y/N??”.

Within a mere second Jason had flung open the bathroom door, red tinting his cheek and a little sweat on his forehead, “Sweetheart are you ok?”.

You noted how he chose to call you sweetheart now and not his usual princess. A stark reminder that this whole ordeal had affected him too, more than he’d admitted. You felt the guilt eat away at you. Shame burning at your feet.

“Y-yeah, I’m ok”, you mumbled quietly and swirled some of the water and bubbles around you, “I just accidentally swallowed some of the bath water, I’m sorry”.

Jason nodded although not quite believing you. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the tub taking a deep breath, “It’s ok to not be ok sweetheart...I know it can be difficult to admit that...I know that more than most”, he wiped a stray bubble from the rim of the tub. He looked at you deeply before continuing, “I’ll be here for you...whenever and whatever you need”.

You sat silently in the water and he moved to get up. Maybe he thought it was best to leave you alone, let you uncover your own emotions. Process what had happened. You gripped his wrist and looked up into the crystal blue of his eyes, “Jason”.

“Yeah babe?”, he turned his wrist in your hand and linked his fingers with yours.

“I love you”.

He smiled and squeezed your hand before whispering back, “I love you too, more than you know”.

He looked over you and moved to sit back on the edge of the bath. His spare hand reached out and cupped your chin lovingly, stroking over your skin.

“We’ll work through this together Y/N, I promise”, Jason murmured and leaned forward kissing your forehead lightly, “I’ll do whatever you need me to do...anything at all”.

The words, the touches, the kiss. It made your heart flutter and you fell even more in love with him. Jason made the impossible possible and you had no idea how he managed it every day. You felt so lucky.

“I - I struggle some d-days”, you admitted and with those words you felt a little lighter, “sometimes all I want is for you to hold me and not let me go...Sometimes I-I f-feel like that for hours...”.

“Well then I’ll hold you for hours”, he said simply.

You scoffed lightly but before you could protest or think of arguing back he was stepping into the bath water fully clothed.

“Jay!! You’re going to flood the bathroom”, you gasped loudly, watching the water splash over the sides like dramatic tidal waves. Water dispersed all over the bathroom floor to make way for his broad frame, “What are you doing?!”.

Jason sunk down into the water behind you and wrapped his arms either side, pulling you back into his clothed chest. He rested his head on your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss there, “Holding you for as long as you need me to”.

You felt yourself melt into his warm embrace. Tears made their way down your cheeks at his endearing show of love, “Jason”.

“Shhh, just let me hold you baby”, he cuddled you tighter into him, his fingers stroking your hips under the water, brushing away the bruises. Marking you with his own special touch.

Relaxing under his soft caresses, you hummed lightly and closed your eyes resting your head back against him. He smelt like leather and spice. You felt at home. He was home.

“Jay”.

“Mmm?”.

“Please call me princess”, you whispered quietly into the air, your eyes still closed.

“Whatever you want...princess”.

~~~

Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises​​ @internalsealpanic​​ @batarella​​ - thank you both for proof reading this and all the help you have given me - mwah mwah. xoxo

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~~~

[butterbeerblurbs]

tired but never of you (f.w.)

💌 : when you look tired and fred can sense it, he does what he does best. stealing you away from the crowd and self-care freddie activates.

📝 word count: 2,618 words / fred weasley x reader / 🌸 a fluffy mess

💬: just... live with me thru this guys 🤡

after numerous hours of studying and days of all-nighters, you finally had room to breathe again. It was nearly a couple more days before christmas break and boy oh boy you were excited to get a long week full of rest ahead. (though, you doubt you’d be able to squeeze in a week, maybe a day or two. mindful that you’d be spending christmas with fred and his family back in the burrow)

as you decide what to wear for a night out, there’s a knock on your door. angelina announces she’ll go answer and you reply with a mindless thank you as you stare yourself in the mirror, debating between two outfits on hangers over your body. with a small pout, unsure of which to choose, you hear the door closing and you call out to-”angelina, could you help me choose?”

you remain looking at your reflection, and when it feels longer than the usual time angelina takes to rush to you, you’re greeted with-”would freddie be alright?” you flinch at the pair of arms that sneak around your waist and you gasp as fred pops his head over your shoulder, grinning at you through the mirror.

your elbow nudges him playfully, getting him to move but he refuses, only squeezing you tighter, “you cheeky prat,” you huff at him, only to literally have heart eyes sparkling at him as he smiles at you with such warmth it’s making your heart full.

“hey there, beautiful,” fred murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, earning himself a satisfied smile from you. he pecks your lips a couple more times until he’s satisfied, moving himself away to sit on your bed as he watches you get dressed. you turn around to face him, now making him decide since he probably shooed angelina out of her shared dorm with you (as fred weasley would).

“help me choose, freddie? which one looks better?”

the boy snorts, “neither. maybe consider your pajamas?”

your brows knit together, face scrunching in confusion, “love, we’re going to the three broomsticks,”

“yeah,” he nods, leaning back into your pillow as he stares at you, “but you should be going to bed,”

he watches as you take a couple of seconds to process his words, before you groan and roll your eyes at him. you decide to go with your first option - a black velvet turtleneck dress paired with a white wool duffle jacket, shoving the other into the closet. fred makes himself known as he pulls your shirt off your body, staring at you through the mirror.

“c’mon, love, you know i think you look gorgeous everyday, anytime - even now! but you look like you got hit by a train,”

you nod a couple of times, a little preoccupied with getting dressed, half-ignoring him, “yeah? do i?”

he nods firmly, arms crossed in front of his chest, “absolutely. like the train dragged you for a few rounds to reach hogwarts and decided to keep going, too,”

“you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you, weasley?” you huff at him, blowing your fringe from your face as you grab ahold of your shedded clothes and shove them into the laundry basket. as you gather your hair to the side, fred smirks at your back exposed in front of him. but when you frown at him at the mirror at his lack of helpfulness, he decides to play later and helps to zip you up.

before you can reach for your jacket, he smoothen his palms on your waist, reeling you in as you make grabby hands at-”i want my jacket, freddie!”

“and i want you to stay in with me,” he tuts, spinning you around and locking you in front of him, not letting you budge even when you hit his chest playfully.

“y/n, you hadn’t had proper sleep the past few days. you promised you’d sleep as soon as christmas break rolls around,” he frowns, swaying you back and forth and he watches as the small movement is already driving you to sleep. yet, you keep your feet grounded, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him down so you can kiss him. he’s a little surprised, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it as he reciprocates the kiss, pressing his lips deeper against yours and relishes in the soft mewl he swallows from your lips.

before he can go any further, you push him back enough for you to have space to snatch your jacket, rushing out the door in a hurry; not bothering to check if fred is coming after you. but the rummaging from behind you, followed by loud thuds, already indicate fred is running.

“hey! at least change into your boots first! your feet are going to be ice before we even get there!”

//

“it’s not too late to back out now, y/n,” fred whispers into your ear as the whole lot of you make your way together. george and angelina were taking lead in the front, followed by katie, jordan and oliver in the middle and the pair of you were in the back. you squeeze fred’s hand in his pocket, hissing at him, “you can’t be serious! i got dressed for this!”

he presses a kiss to your temple, swinging your hand back and forth as much as he can despite being confined in his pocket, almost child-like it’s making you giggle, “and you look absolutely gorgeous! but you would also look much better if you had some sleep,”

“why do i feel like you don’t want me to have fun?” you pout at him, and he huffs, “hey, that’s not fair and you know it. you know how much fun we can have together,-”yep, no lie there. sometimes, you and fred alone caused more havoc than fred and his twin. that statement is a lot coming from most people-”-it’s just, you know, love. i’d want to have fun with you when i know you’re enjoying it too,”

“but it feels wrong to miss this,” you whisper this time, and fred leans down a little so you wouldn’t need to reach him with much effort, “we won’t see them in a bit and i promised i’d come. didn’t want to be a downer,”

“love,” he calls out, earning a huh as you look up to him. he sneaks in a kiss to your lips, grinning at how you blink at him profusely before you register what he had done the thing he’s done countless of times before, “you can never be a downer. have you seen yourself?”

your mouth opens to respond and you swear you see fred about to lean in to shut you up but-“oi! lovebirds! try to keep up, yeah?” george hollers as they’re a good distance away, seeing there’s already enough snow to cast between you and your friends. you yank your hand along with fred’s out of said boy’s jacket, pulling him to follow your lead, “coming!” you only laugh as you hear him yelp, trying to keep up at your sudden spurt of energy. 

//

the place was already packed with people but it wasn’t a surprise to any of you. of course it would be, nearing a time like christmas and all friends would be on their different ways (except a couple), but the vast majority would be. so it wasn’t a surprise a lot of friend groups would try to sneak in one last meet up like the ones you had with your friends (and boyfriend, and boyfriend’s brother).

drinks were poured and downed, a couple of bites here and there but a shared feeling of comfort and belonging. secrets being exchanged, chatters of what happens within the castle, out of the castle - the works. it’s a cogwheel of how the group functions - all in good fun, mutual excitement and trust that what is said here would stay here.

it’s been a little over an hour and a half since the group started getting loose and shaking off the nerves of the semester ending, buzzing for the holiday soon arriving. fred would enjoy it without a thought as well but seeing how the light alcohol is getting the best of you, lulling a bit here and there in the midst of loud chatter, leaning against him for support, he decides to call it a night. especially when there’s a lack of response coming from you.

it captures the group’s attention as they watch how your cheek is pressed to fred’s arm, though, seeming like you’re trying your hardest. fred has puppy eyes as he stares at your sleeping figure against him and he can’t help but allow his heart to swell at the sight.

“i’m always fascinated by this,” katie snorts, earning a nod of approval from oliver, “i’d say. truly, the only person who can tame the wild fred weasley,”

fred exhales deeply and as he wiggles his brows to your group of friends, they already know what’s to come. “well, we’ll be taking our leave now,”

“just make sure you don’t lock me out,” angelina chastises, remembering the night fred did that by “accident” and she had to snooze off in the common room. “you’re welcome to join me, if he does!” george calls out, earning a fake look of disgust from angelina before she decides to laugh it off.

the short yet loud interaction between george and angelina jolts you awake with a yes?, snapping out of your slumber almost instantly. your lips quickly zip shut as you notice how all eyes are now on you, and fred is like your shield, willing to bat away any takers to tease you. before they can, however, fred is reminded of the many reasons why he loves you. a joke, is something you can take, never making it an awkward situation on anyone. (unless necessary)

“good morning, your highness,” george coos, and you grin sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “good day, sire!”

“had a good rest?” katie chuckles, reaching out to playfully mess with your hair. you managed a small yawn, covering your mouth with your hand, shaking your head, “could’ve been better. this place is too loud for a nap,”

the group erupts with a small round of laughter before fred pulls you up with him, preparing yourselves to exit. it’s not after a quick moment for you to say goodbye to everyone and wish them a good break (including george, who he reminds you he’ll be with you during the break because you’re going to stay at his house, as a matter of fact his room too with freddie that it makes you blush before laughing it off). once that is done, fred quickly snatches you away and the pair of you make your way back to the dorms.

fred keeps your hand warm together with his in the pocket of his jacket, idly humming the walk back. it’s peaceful, being in fred’s presence and the way he checks on you every now and then to make sure you’re still walking, doing his best in creating conversations with you so it actively keeps you up. your heart feels all sorts of things, mainly love as you stare at fred’s side profile.

when he catches you staring, he can’t help but tease.

“enjoying the view there? might want to look where you’re going, love,” he says quietly, yet, seeing there’s no affect on you as he effectively dodges anything that’s coming your way, guiding you to a safe path. when he sees your eyes aren’t shifting from him, he’s full on laughing, enjoying the attention he’s receiving.

“hello? is my girlfriend still awake? may i ask the reason why she’s staring at me and not saying a word?”

“she’s... enjoying the view,” fred swears he feels his heart almost leaping out of his chest when he glances to see her smiling so wide, her eyes dissolve to mini crescents. he stops walking and it grants her to do the same. he grabs onto her shoulders and gives her a light shake, “woman, you can’t be this adorable even when you’re sleepy. choose one,”

this was a coded question for: “are we going to have fun tonight? or sleep?” (though, you know fred already knows the answer as they line the under of your eyes, another yawn escaping softly).

“sleep, please,”

“yes, ma’am.”

//

you think in your past life, you must’ve saved an entire kingdom to be with fred. (no doubt, he’d say the same thing about you, if not double up and say two kingdoms but these are your thoughts and he can’t possibly argue with you in your mind). still, you think it’s very much true when fred patiently undresses you and redresses you in your sleeping clothes - a loose sweater and joggers, followed by a t-shirt underneath because it gets a bit more chilly as the night transcends.

now bundled up in the covers, in his arms, his warmth, scent and his voice is the perfect recipe to lull you to sleep.

before you do, though, you’re staring at him and that’s when fred says: “you’ve done so well, y/n. get some sleep, hm?”

“this is so unfair,” you whisper under your breath, staring at the way he adores and is amused at the same time. he decides not to show it as much, only squeezing you around him as he stares down at you, allowing you to let your train of thought escape your mouth as you fall into deep slumber. “you can’t be that handsome, that clever and love me that much... you’re...” there’s a small yawn that captures fred’s heart even more “...absolutely... bonkers...”

fred only snorts quietly, watching as your eyelids flutter shut and you’re dozing off pretty quick from all the all-nighters and lost sleep due to papers and assignments. not only were you trying to be on top of your grades, he recollects how you’ve helped him as well, which he was very grateful for. his eyes remain on you as you get the rest you truly deserve, his hand coming up to brush your hair from your face and he stares at you lovingly.

you were unfair, too, he thinks. you, the person who accepted him fully for who he is and encourages him to chase for his dreams, willing to be by his side regardless of what happened. you, who was insanely patient with him, yet, took no bull and gave him the honest pill he needed from time to time. you, who came into his life like the light he’d been searching for in the dark, only to get blinded once he was within reach. when he was in your heart, however, his days have been warm ever since.

as you snuggle up against him, arms gingerly wrapped by his torso and resting your face to his chest, fred smiles at the thought he’s able to return the gesture you’ve done to him. his eyes close after a while, hoping to see you in his dreams as well.

as he's halfway drifting into sleep, he hears a soft murmur of freddie... that makes him smile, certain his smile would still be there when he wakes.

[crystalelemental]

So I did some more stats on Pokemon Masters alts, and did you know that Johto has more alts than Galar?  Or that Sinnoh is the second least represented region for alts?

Total Kanto: 38 Total Johto: 25 Total Hoenn: 32 Total Sinnoh: 29 Total Unova: 43 Total Kalos: 22 Total Alola: 31 Total Galar: 22

Kanto Alts: 18 Johto Alts: 12 Hoenn Alts: 9 Sinnoh Alts: 8 Unova Alts: 21 Kalos Alts: 6 Alola Alts: 9 Galar Alts: 11

So, this is the breakdown by region.  To the surprise of no one, Unova leads in both total sync pairs, and highest number of alts.  Further surprising no one, Kanto is #2 in both.  I also found it interesting that a full 20% of all alts are Kanto, meaning Unova is even more than 20%.  What’s horrifying is that four regions are accounting for less than 10% of all alts: Kalos, Sinnoh, Hoenn, and Alola.  Something about that messes me up, especially with the old understanding of “Johto never gets alts.”  Somehow it’s now top 3.  Granted, this is with Villain Arc, but Sinnoh also had their Villain Arc and is bottom two, only beating out Kalos.  Which is staggering to me.  Kalos is guaranteed a comeback in their VA, but Sinnoh’s is done, so...Sinnoh’s the most put-upon region for alts?  Given that Cynthia has five forms, about half their alts are just Cynthia, so I think they are, anyway.  More alts for Sinnoh, please.  I’ll take a Bertha alt, and a Fantina alt, and Gardenia with Cherrim, and-

Hoenn’s actually pretty bad too, which surprised me.  I guess when you think about it, they only got three alts in their VA: the protagonists and Steven.  So that’s weird to think about.  Hoenn’s definitely behind, and I think a good Roxanne alt would be just what we-

Alola’s the other I’m a little surprised about, but not overly so given no VA.  This one will easily close the gap, as will Kalos.  At least, I assume they will.  The problem is with Maxie and Archie’s reruns coinciding, there’s a good chance of Lusamine and Lillie’s Master Fairs also rerunning then, with Serena’s Sygna Suit being guaranteed as her focus.  So they may get hit with the same bat as Hoenn.  Which would be a bit sad.  We’ll see how it goes.

What’s really interesting is the cross-comparison of alts to total sync pairs.  Again, Unova and Kalos lead to the surprise of no one, but #3 is Hoenn.  So Hoenn is low on alts, but high on total characters in the game.  Alola’s in a similar vein; only 9 alts, and has only one fewer sync pair compared to Hoenn.  Yet for some reason, Alola feels more sparse.  Wonder why...  By comparison, Johto is high on alts, but is #3 least represented by cast.  In part this is because so many are considered Kanto, with Lance, Koga, and Bruno being notable losses, and no specific Battle Frontier to augment options.  The fact they’re one of the four regions missing a Gym Leader doesn’t help either.  Still, I think it’s justifiable now to spam demands for Chuck.  I want Chuck, anyway.  I think it’d be funny to see Dynamicpunch Poliwrath in the general pool.

The two below them are Kalos and Galar.  To the surprise of no one.  And honestly, both are a matter of their characters not getting in.  Kalos is missing half its Elite Four (its better half, I’d argue), and is still missing a Gym Leader in Olympia.  Which is kinda messed up when you think about it.  They’re only this high because the Master BP characters are Kalos, and...frankly they’re terrible and hard to access.  So it’s definitely not good for Kalos.  But holy hell with Galar.  22 sync pairs, and literally half are alts.  We’re missing half their league, too: Milo, Kabu, Opal, Melony, and Gordie.  Five gym leaders aren’t accounted for.  To say nothing of Mustard and Peony, who are former champions, and their antagonists in Rose and Oleana (who are fine staying out, but inevitable all the same).  Kalos is only missing a few before they run dry, but Galar is missing a metric ton of its cast.  It’s kinda staggering for a game that’s been out almost three years, and is about to no longer be the newest game in the series.  It bodes really poorly for Gen 9′s cast.  Get your favorites in early, folks.  Once they’re set, they’re all that’s getting in.

However, what’s really neat is that there’s one other region at effectively half its sync pairs being alts.  Johto.  Johto, which is missing very few characters, is at about half (25 sync pairs, 12 alts).  Does anyone else find that really interesting?  I find it really interesting.  Kanto’s also running up against that wall.  All its characters are in (do not talk to me about Let’s Go), and with two more alts, it’ll be an even 50/50 split.

The fun thing is, if you remember my own interpretation of which region is the strongest right now from about a month ago, I argued it was Sinnoh, largely because several grand champions of the Common Grid War were from Sinnoh, and there was a massive buff in utility pairs from the region this year.  But also because about half their alts have Zone Monopoly.  The two Cynthia’s this year have Ghost and Fighting, Lucas has Dragon, and SS Cyrus has Dark.  Four of the Eight Zone types...are locked entirely on Sinnoh.  No wonder they feel so strong despite having so little.  I think I’d take the trade of “Few alts but they’re stupid strong.”  Galar and Johto both beat it in alt count, despite having lower total sync pairs, but are pretty strong alts as well.  But I think it’s a generally good sign for Sinnoh.  Healthy diversity of characters in the game, even if most of their alts skew Cynthia.  And there is something to be said for the fact that Kanto was considered one of the overall weaker regions, despite having tons of sync pairs and tons of alts, because so little was modern.  Ash and SST Red are like the only two keeping them afloat.  So there’s definitely some give and take.

Anyway, hopefully someone else finds this as neat as I do.  Many results aren’t that surprising, but still fun to know stuff like how hard Johto rebounded after all the jokes about no alts this time last year.

[shootthemessenger]

the delicate art of a criminal mind [a.m-r. ; b.d.h.]

ally mayfair-richards x fem!reader x billie dean howard

summary: two of the FBI’s most wanted, two convicted felons, and a policeman’s daughter make for one hell of a love story

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, brief adultery, short-lived angst

I’m so sorry that this sucks, I had a fucking AMAZING version of it that got deleted due to technical difficulties (me, im the technical difficulty) also this is an edited version of a story I wrote YEARS ago so if some of the names/third person editing are/is wrong I’m sorry

gif belongs to @valenthatgurl

Billie’s eyes traveled slowly down your body, mind drinking in your figure as a delicate smirk probed at her lips. “Have I ever told you how much I adore you, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from your throat or the smile on your face. The blonde moved carefully behind you, letting her hands fall against the curves of your hips where they rested gently. She liked to hold you between her two hands.

“Often.” You replied simply which only caused her to let out a breathy chuckle and press a chaste kiss to the base of your neck. Billie locked eyes with you through the mirror in front of you, eyebrow twitching in amusement as she watched you adjust your earrings carefully.

She had bought you them last week, in a small shop in Miami, refusing to show you the price tag even after she bought them. It was often that she showered you in small, expensive gifts. Afterall, she believed she had to pay you back for kidnapping you in the first place.

It wasn’t planned, necessarily. Your mother was a police chief in the small town you lived in who had been hunting after Billie and her team for months. As crazy as it seemed as you stood there so intimately with her, she was a criminal and had been for most of her life.

It started when she was younger, stashing trinkets into her backpack from stores and gifting them to her friends. Then she moved on to bigger things, clothing and electronics from the mall that she would keep just for the thrill of knowing she had them.

Then came the bank heist. She had gathered her team, team being her good friend Misty and Misty’s girlfriend, Cordelia. They forced their way into the bank and forced the money into the bags as swiftly as they could.

By the time they got outside, they was surrounded with bags upon bags of cash tucked in her team’s hands. Completely drowning under the police presence, they had no choice but to shovel into the police car closest to them and pray they were capable of getting away.

What Billie hadn’t accounted for was the fact that you would be sitting in the passenger seat of the car she rushed, waiting for your mother to return and finish, what had started off as, your ride-along for the day.

Nevertheless, she had no time to think before she was barreling down the road and hoping she could figure out what to do with you once she was out of such traffic.

In the beginning the two of you hated each other but the more time you spent together the more you fell for one another.

Eventually, you started dating and had been growing strong since then. Now you were here, the four of you had been on the run together for 3 years and had covered most of the U.S..

You were the current occupant of an old, run-down hotel in LA. Tonight, you were headed to a new club that had just opened up downtown.

Billie called it “hiding in plain sight” but really it was just an excuse to get you into the black dress she had loved so much and grinding up against her into the late hours of the night.

"I love you so much." Billie’s voice was low and raspy, the way she knew you liked. "I love you, darling." You returned.

Weird looks were shot to Billie from her two partners, they had never seen the woman be so affectionate towards someone so openly.

It was easy to say that Billie had never been affectionate to anyone until you came along.

Billie was the leader of the three; easily the brains of the group. She was cunning and persuasive and intelligent; all things you'd think a criminal would have to be to do the things that they would do. She was damn near a loose cannon and not many people risked getting too close.

Cordelia and Misty were the only friends Billie really had and she didn't mind one bit. She worked better alone.

Never get in Billie Dean Howard’s way; everyone knew that by now.

Misty was what most people would call the muscle of the group, though all three of them could easily take down someone on their own. She was tactically trained and she could easily rough someone up.

She always wore a set of thick leather gloves around her slender fingers, which meant that she was ready to start swinging anytime she might have needed to. It kept people from messing with Billie and Cordelia and it got them whatever they needed and wanted.

Cordelia, on the other hand, was more of the beauty of the group. Not that she couldn't rough someone up if it came down to it, but there was something about her that drew people in. She was incredibly beautiful and she had no problem using that to her own advantage. She could get anything with a bat of her deep brown-colored doe eyes and, of course, her habit of biting her lip didn't hurt when added to the mix.

She was irresistible, especially in the type of clothes she was wearing now; a short black dress that hugged every delicate inch of her body. She had the perfect hips to fill in a dress like that. She was the team's biggest distraction.

“Uh...B?” Misty interrupted, her eyes scanning over her phone screen. “Maybe we should just stay here tonight.” She proposed, glancing up at the blonde.

Billie cocked her eyes, hesitantly pulling away from you to sit on the end of the bed. “Why’s that?” She pulled a cigarette between her lips and lit it, watching glancing between her two partners.

"Ally is in town and by the looks of it, she’ll be in the exact same place we will.” She turned a phone around to display a text sent from her from one of her former accomplices, it read “look who i just ran into” with a photo of the woman attached.

“We need to take her out.” Cordelia piped up, moving to sit on the dresser across from the bed. “Tonight.”

Ally Mayfair-Richards was another criminal, just as the three girls were. She was the only woman or man who had ever dared to step up towards Billie’s authority. When it became two much, the three girls parted ways with Ally and decided to stick together without her.

Since then, they had all been rivals and avoided each other at all costs in fear one party would cause harm to the other or worse; they’d all get caught together.

Billie knew that all she needed was to get the cops and Ally in the same place and let the law do it's job to rid her of her rival. It wasn't like they wouldn't know her from her face, they'd been chasing her for almost seven years now, but it wasn't like they didn't know Billie’s face either.

“How are we supposed to take her out and go unnoticed? That’s fucking impossible without getting our own asses caught.” Billie huffed as Misty began to pace in thought.

It was silent for a moment until Cordelia’s face lit up, a look that had caused Billie trouble since the very beginning. It was never good when Cordelia gave that look. “Y/N!” She suddenly blurted out, face curling into a cunning smirk.

All three of you made a weird face at her, “What about her?” Billie questioned cautiously. “We can use her.” Cordelia answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “shes smoking hot and everyone knows Ally is a sucker for an attractive woman.”

Billie’s eyes widened as she rose to her feet before narrowing at the woman across from her, “Don’t even fucking think about it.” She hissed, hand already balling at her side.

She moved in front of you, blocking you from Cordelia’s view, “Get that thought out of your thick skull because it’s not happening.”

Misty sighed, “Come on B, all she’s gotta do is a little bit of grinding and a lot of distracting and we can handle the rest.” Everything was quiet as Billie glanced between Cordelia and Misty, “No.” She mumbled harshly.

Misty huffed, “It’s our only option, B. Ally doesn’t know what Y/N looks like and by now, she’s grown so much she could easily hide from the cops. It’s perfect!”

“It’s Ally to prison or us, you choose Billie.” Cordelia added, causing Billie to huff and glance at you.

“I don’t mind.” You finally spoke, playing with Billie’s fingers gently. “I’ve always wanted to help.” You pouted, knowing Billie had a weak spot for your eyes.

After a moment of silence she sighed and stepped towards the two women across the room, “Anything happens to her and I’ll send you both to prison myself, whether I have to join you or not.” Cordelia and Misty both grinned as they murmured their enthusiasm and disappeared down the hall to their own room.

Billie turned to you as soon as the door clicked closed, pinning you against the mirror you had been getting ready in. You offered a sheepish smile to which she shook her head, “ That’s not going to work this time. Anything goes wrong and I swear you’ll never get to help us again, do you understand me?”

Her eyes watched you, fueled with fire. You gulped and nodded as she pressed her lips to yours firmly, gripping your hips with a new kind of power she had not had a few minutes ago.

By exactly eight-thirty, the four of you rolled up to the club. Lights and loud music from inside were already screaming at you and you could feel the music vibrating against the concrete. Billie was starting to get nervous, all thought she’d never openly admit it.

Cordelia turned from her place in the drivers seat and glanced at you in the back, “Alright chica, all you’ve got to do is dance. There’s a cop down the street and we’ll get him on Ally’s trail. We’ll all be keeping an eye on you. You’ve just got to keep her attention long enough. Just be sexy, that’s all you have to do.” Billie huffed in protest at the last part, her grip on your leg becoming tighter.

Once Misty and Cordelia had scurried out of the car, Billie turned to you and pressed her lips against your ear, “I’ll be watching you, little one.” She watched the shiver rack your spine before jumping out of the car and disappearing into the club.

You let out a heavy breath before getting out and making your way inside. Immediately, you were met with the sexual tension suffocating the room as bodies moved against one another.

You located Billie across the room, settled at the end of the bar and the other two women situated in a booth across the room.

You locked eyes with Billie and winked descretely before settling into an open seat and ordering the strongest drink you could find; you were going to need it.

No more than ten minutes past before you could feel someone standing behind you, a hand brushed against your hip as they sat down and you jumped slightly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The woman mumbled softly as she settled into the seat next to you with her arm rested on the bar. “Let me get you another drink.” She offered.

Her voice was quiet and thick as she leaned into you, a strand of her hair brushing against your shoulder.

Looking up, you locked eyes with her and caught a blush that began to spread across your face. You nodded softly, regaining composure as you stuttered something along the lines of “sure” and allowed her to lean into you as she laughed, “No need to be nervous, beautiful.”

“I saw you from across the room, no woman as beautiful as yourself should sit alone.” Mentally, you rolled your eyes at her cheesy confidence, watching closely as she licked her lips before ordering two drinks.

You were so caught up in staring at her that you couldn’t even catch what she was talking about. That was, until her fingers snapped in front of your face and you had to force yourself into reality, “Huh, what?”

She shook her head and laughed, “I asked you your name.” She repeated, leaning in so that you could hear her better. “Y/N. Yours?” You answered softly, taking a sip of your drink.

She licked her lips once again, “Ally.” Your eyes widened before you quickly corrected your face. She propped her elbow on the counter as you glanced at the clock nervously. Now that you knew it was her you were talking to, you were growing nervous.

“Would you like to dance?” You questioned, shaking of the nervousness that probed at your stomach. She simply smiled and pushed herself onto her feet, allowing you to stand. She followed you out onto the dance floor, waiting until you were situated before letting her hands find the dip in your waist and pulling you to her closely.

As you started to roll your hips into her, she leaned in until her mouth was lingering against your ear, “You really are a sight for sore eyes. You were having trouble concentrating as her lips began to trail down your neck.

“T-thanks.” You let your eyes flutter closed, almost finding yourself enjoying the feeling of her lips on your skin until the thought of Billie popped into your head and your eyes snapped open again.

Ally was surely leaving a hickey on your neck, and the eerie feeling of someone watching you was bubbling in your chest though you couldn’t figure out which direction it was coming from.

One again, you let the feeling of Ally pressed against you and the base rattling your tipsy brain take oven. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.” Ally mumbled from behind you, fingers digging into your skin.

You couldn’t deny it. You had Billie, you would never be able to deny the love you had for her. But in that moment you craved Ally.

And you couldn’t stop it. It was eating you up inside but you let the alcohol pumping in your veins control you and simply nodded and turned to face her.

You couldn’t help but notice she smelled like honey. As you took a deep breath, a fire ignited somewhere within you. It was very different from the strawberries and cream smell you were used to with Billie.

Your little bubble with Ally was burst as the door to the club swung open and a cope stepped in, his eyes glancing around the room as if he was already looking for someone.

You felt Ally tense beside you, before your eyes met and her face spread into a mischievous grin. “You’re coming with me.” And with that she was tugging you out the back door.

Billie felt a heaviness in her chest, one that made it heard to breathe and made her heart feel as if it was beating so hard in on her chest that it was rattling her bones.

Her eyes had turned a violent black color as her fingernails dig into her palms so persistently that she created crescent shapes in her skin.

She could have killed someone right in that moment.

She was only brought out of her state by someone clearing their throat from beside her and turned to meet her partners, who both look d so nervous they could faint.

“We lost her.” Misty squeaked out, they had all taken their eyes off the dancing girls for a split second and by the time their narrowed their attention, they were gone.

Billie’s eyes visibly darkened and Cordelia gulped nervously as Billie backed the two of them into a wall, “Find her. Or so help me God, you’re dead.”

Back outside, you and Ally slowed down next to a car you assumed to be hers. You could see the outline of two bodyguards through the tented windows.

Ally smirked, pressing you against the passenger door as her lips ghosted against yours; neither of you leaning in enough to fill the small gap.

“I-uh-“ you mumbled underneath the taller woman, who let her eyes open again and pushed back slightly. “Come with me.” She stated quickly, taking your hand into hers, “we can travel all around the world and stay in fancy hotels; honeymoon suits for just the two of us everywhere we go. I can spoil you and make you mine. I can care for you. I want to.” She was rambling.

She took your silence as a cue to continue on, “I know you just met me and there are so many things you don’t know about me. There are so many things you deserve to know about me. I want to learn about you and let you learn about me.” She talked so quickly that she was having trouble catching her breath.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, “Ally, I can’t.”

You were thinking about Billie.You were thinking about all of the memories you shared. All the moments you shared. The moments filled with hatred, the moments fueled by love, the times you went wild in towns you’d never traveled to before and probably never would again, the words you’d exchanged, the intimate moment where the whole world melted and it was jus the two of you. There were the times you made love, when Billie really took her time worshiping you and your body. Then there were the more rough times, usually fueled by anger or Billie’s raging jealousy. Just an hour ago you couldn't have fathomed the thought of doing any of those things with anyone else. But here you were, possibly going to run away with a woman you’d not even known for a full half hour.

“I have someone and I love her, I really do. She’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted and I can’t possibly betray her. She’s my soulmate.”

"You can't. Not if it's not me. I want you...I crave you...I need you." Ally’s voice was weak and she looked like she was ready to cry. Her chest heaved as she spoke, her voice wavering. "Please."

Your eyes locked with her, lip quivering as you a pressure in your chest.

A voice broke the two of you from your staring contest, "What the hell is going on here?" You could see Ally’s jaw lock as she turned towards the woman. "What do you want, Howard?" Ally moved between you and Billie, squaring her shoulders.

"I want what you took from me." Billie furrowed her eyebrows, training her eyes on you. You started to panic; on one hand you wanted to leave with Ally. Because you were attracted to her the moment you started talking. You couldn’t explain it, like you had known her forever and you were only catching up. It was like those cliché movies with the high-school sweethearts that loose touch and then reconnect. But on the other hand, you had been with Billie for so long and you loved her with your whole heart. You loved Billie so much it scared you. Billie was the type of first love that never went away. So you just stood there, looking between the two in agony.

"I haven't taken shit from you." Ally huffed, her eyes shooting daggers at the three girls in front of her. Misty and Cordelia stood tall at Billie’s sides, their eyes fixated on Ally.

Ally’s eyes flickered to you then back at Ally and you could see Ally tense even more. As Ally turned around, you could see the tears starting to pool in her eyes. "She's your..." Ally let out a deep sigh as you nodded.

Ally was sure you could hear her heart breaking in her chest. "Darling, come here." Billie said gently, motioning you to come to her. You hesitated for a second before slowly making her way over to her. You could just barely feel Ally’s hand brush against her wrist.

Billie quickly pulled you into her arms with a tight squeeze, "Thank God, you’re okay.” She breathed into your hair. You nuzzled your face in Billie’s neck and let the tears fall.

You had chosen Billie, you had chosen your home. You knew that, even if you had left with Ally, Billie would always be on your mind. You were in love.

The sound of Ally’s car pulling away caused both of you to let out a breath. Billie pressed your lips together before the sound of rapid footsteps and policemen shouting broke your moment. Billie pulled away, her face breaking into a wicked grin. "Run."

Taglist: @mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl , @sapphicpaulsxn , @its-soph-xx , @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k , @paulsonix , @madamevirgo , @saucy-sapphic , @kikaykimkim , @billiedeansbottom

[primasveraas-writing]

“Kent v The Shitty Knee Itself”- Ted Lasso

A sort-of-sequel to "Kent v Linebacker," but this can still be read on its own. Part 2 of 3 of my fics about Roy Kent's shitty knee.

Part 1 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 1649

XXX

Roy Kent is old as shit.

His daughter is a fucking toddler. His son is in preschool.

And he has fucking arthritis.

“What the fuck do you mean I’ve got fucking arthritis?” Roy Kent explodes at the doctor, who waits patiently for his outburst to finish. “I’m in my fucking forties! I’ve got two fucking babies at home! What the fuck am I supposed to do when my fucking daughter needs to piss and we’re all sprinting into the bathroom? I can’t fucking potty train on a shit leg.”

His wife rubs his shoulders comfortingly; the news is less surprising to Keeley, who gave a damn when the doctors mentioned arthritis could develop, and who is also extremely endeared by her husband’s priorities, which apparently lie very firmly with teaching their daughter to pee in the toilet.

Roy shouldn’t be shocked either; he’s had a limp for a long time now, and progressively worsening pain. He’s been elevating his leg whenever possible, to the point where Ted pulls chairs up for him or sits down first so Roy doesn’t feel awkward (on good days, Roy scowls at Ted and stays standing, but these occurrences are increasingly few and far between). It’s been a long time coming, and as much as the great Roy Kent hates to admit weakness, his shit knee is getting shittier.

Keeley had forced him to go to the doctor when Roy scooped up both their children, one in each arm, and proceeded to fall on the floor in a heap of small limbs and curses. He again made the case that he was fine, but there’s a limit on how much Tylenol one person can take in a day, and Roy’s exceeded that limit for weeks.

He walks like he’s on a hill, wobbling as he drags his right leg behind him. Keeley remarks on how uneven his gait is, and Lily, his precious fucking baby, demonstrates just how wonky Roy is by limping around too. It makes him laugh, but then his gaze meets Keeley’s, and he realizes there’s not much he can do aside from accept his fate and ask Dr. Patel why his knee is failing him (again, the fucking thing).

Arthritis. Fucking hell.

“The majority of your symptoms can be mitigated by limiting any strain on your leg. This includes walking, lifting, twisting, standing, stairs-”

“-breathing, blinking, fucking doing any shit worthwhile-”

“We can also prescribe medication, but given the amount of pain you reported, I think the best option to look at is a walking assistant.”

“What, like a cane?” Roy snorts. He feels Keeley still behind him, then he looks up at Dr. Patel, who’s gazing back at him, entirely serious.

“A fucking cane.”

“It’ll alleviate the weight on your leg. Ideally, you won’t need it every day, but it’ll make a difference when discomfort gets too high.”

“Fuck no.” Keeley squeezes his shoulder. “Fine. Fucking hell.”

-

It’s an adjustment. Roy walks back to their car, cane-less for the time being, limping, and imagines a cane in his hand. Imagines being able to straighten up, and not going to bed in fucking agony after a long day.

He also imagines showing up to the football club with a cane in his hand and Jaime fucking Tartt the fucking muppet smirking at him with his stupid fucking face, and he wants to turn around and tell Dr. Patel he’ll never use a fucking cane in his fucking life. Then he imagines having a stick to beat Jaime with when he’s being a prick, and Roy grins to himself at the thought.

That’s what he tells Keeley on the way home: he’s on the fence. That there’s a stigma he doesn’t want, that he remembers this the pitiful looks he received after his first injury and after surgery. It’s fucking bullshit, that he’d be looked at differently just because of a fucking rod in his hand, or because his stupid knee is fucked.

“Since when does Roy Kent care about what other people think of him? I mean really,” Keeley tells him, patting his thigh. “Everyone decent won’t bat an eye, and anyone who does is a prat.” She shrugs. “It’s a flawless system, really. Good way to sort people out.”

Roy grunts in agreement and drums his fingers on the door. He sighs, leaning his head back.

“What if I can’t keep up with Lily and Ollie? What the fuck am I supposed to do with little kids?”

“We’ll adapt,” Keeley promises, offering her hand. Roy takes it and presses it to his lips. “They already know they can’t run from you, or bowl into you at full speed-” Roy snorts at this. “-so now we tell ‘em that they gotta be patient.”

“They’re gonna be the most patient kids on the planet,” Roy muses, but his chest feels lighter. His wife is fucking amazing.

“They’re fucking perfect, they are. And besides- they don’t love you cause you can lift them or up throw them around or run around after them.” She squeezes his hand. “They love you ‘cause you’re you, Roy. You’re their dad.”

Roy nods silently. She’s right, as always. His heart is warm, much lighter against his ribs. “Thanks, babe,” he tells her, and Keeley beams at him.

-

They adapt. Roy remains in awe of the resilience of children- Lily and Oliver don’t give a damn that he uses a cane, except they quickly have to delineate that it’s not a toy, so Oliver doesn’t hit anyone with it, and so that Lily doesn’t hit Oliver with it. Because of this, Roy has to be careful not to threaten anyone at Richmond with his cane while his children are around. One day, his kids will learn to do as their dad says, not as he does, but for now, his babies swear and scowl, and pick up on every bad habit Roy shows them. It’s fucking adorable.

The first month is the hardest. Roy and Keeley decide to grant him some grace- he doesn’t have to do shit like garden or mow the lawn, or anything too strenuous. It’s uneven, in the beginning, and Roy goes to bed every night feeling like a shit husband for everything that’s unloaded on Keeley. They fight about it, eventually, and Roy apologizes to Keeley with tears in his eyes. They find a balance, which involves a chair in every room in their house and somebody hired to do the lawn. Their roles have shifted, but it’s a pattern he’s familiar with by now. He’s gone through so many major changes with Keeley: switching careers and marriage and injury and parenthood twice over. And using a cane isn’t any harder than having a newborn and a toddler, so they manage. After all, they’re unstoppable together.

Nobody on the team makes a comment on the cane, except Ted leaves sticky notes on it whenever Roy isn’t paying attention, and Roy wouldn’t mind so much if they weren’t positive fucking affirmations, the corny twat. Then the rest of the team follows suit, and they sign it and put stickers on it and all sorts of supportive shit, and Roy tells only one person this, but he kind of fucking likes it (against his better judgment, of course).

Commentators and the press are not nearly as kind. There’s any number of articles written about him and how old it makes the football world seem. Roy wants to fucking kill all of them, but Keeley reminds him that all the pricks have shown their true colors, and one day he finds a picture of a particularly insensitive reporter that has been utterly defiled and left out in the locker room. Roy tucks this away in a drawer in his office, and he’s almost nicer at practice that day.

Beard and Ted match his slower pace as they walk out to every match, which isn’t subtle even from the offset, but they don’t say anything about it and neither does Roy. He also realizes that he’s never the only one sitting in a group of his friends, even if it’s just him and Ted, or Keeley, or Rebecca, or Nate.

Yoga gets much harder, then he and the yoga moms spend a night researching yoga for people with shit legs, and yoga gets easier again. If they want to do a challenge night, Roy shifts into the role of yoga instructor, which he’s fucking great at, thank you, and so what if he gets to drink more wine because of it.

And his fucking knee feels better. His medication works, but the cane helps the most. Ted and Keeley had told him ever since his initial injury to be kind to himself, to rest when needed, and to not be a stupid stubborn prick about his health. This mindset turns out to have a few merits, and maybe it’s even a good habit he can teach his kids.

It says a lot about him, this cane that accompanies a man in his forties. He needs it because he was a professional footballer who injured himself preventing a goal in one last game. Who needed surgery cause his energetic maniac of a son ran into him. Whose wife told him to use it with pride, because he’s Roy fucking Kent and his family and friends love him so screw everyone else. Whose coach used it as a tool to force positivity onto Roy, whose team and kids decorated it with messages of love and smiley faces and the two worst signatures he’s ever seen (though he credits Oliver and Lily for trying). It’s a symbol of persistence, of the pain he’s endured, of those who rallied behind him.

Roy Kent. Married to Keeley Jones. Father of Oliver and Lily. Coach at Richmond AFC.

And he happens to use a cane.

[fridayfirefly]

crushed petals, shattered glass, and other broken things

Read crushed petals, shattered glass, and other broken things on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 17 - Court of Owls

Marinette was twelve years old, and she was a knife. Delicate in her looks, deceiving in her appearance, Marinette was the most dangerous weapon in the arsenal of the Court of Owls. She was an assassin. She was a spy. She was clever, cunning, versatile. Most importantly, she was a knife, a sharp tool to be used to inflict violence. It was a role that suited her well. Marinette was training to become the Talon of the Court of Owls, and she was untouchable.

-----

Marinette was thirteen years old, and she wanted to know how she came to be. Procreation was easy to understand scientifically, but part of Marinette's brain objected to the idea that she had two parents. Marinette was a knife, and knives were forged by hammer and fire, sharpened to a point by tools so that it might become a tool itself. Marinette could not have come from something as human as love. Love has no role in the creation of a knife.

To settle the conflict, Marinette did what she did best - she snooped around, gathered intel, and created the most likely version of events. From what she could tell, her Grandmother, an associate of the Court of Owls but not an actual member, betrayed the Court. As punishment, Marinette was taken away from her family to be raised by the Court. Marinette's surname, kept hidden from her for thirteen years, was Dupain-Cheng.

The very concept of a surname was blasphemous. Marinette had no family. She belonged to the Court of Owls. And yet, sometimes at night, when she was alone in the dark, Marinette mouthed the words, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Something deep within her stirred.

-----

Marinette was fourteen years old, and she was supposed to kill the whole family. The mother and father, Marinette knew she could kill, but to kill their three children felt inhumane. The youngest wasn't even a year old. Marinette had completed hundreds of missions identical to this one. Sneak in, poison the food, sneak out, wait for the obituary in the newspaper in a day or two. However, this time Marinette couldn't do it.

Marinette cut the tracking chip out of her neck, crushed it beneath her boot, and disappeared into the shadows of the city. It was entirely unplanned, the only reason that Marinette was able to escape. Marinette didn't know much about life in the outside world, but she knew that it had to be better than the alternative, spending the rest of her life as a tool of the Court of Owls.

What Marinette didn't know was that the city she was disappearing into had a certain reputation. Soon, as she learned the true nature of Gotham, Marinette would wish that she stayed with the Court.

-----

Marinette was fifteen years old, and she now knew the true depravity of man. There was so much tragedy on the streets of Gotham. Some of the tragedies Marinette was able to prevent. Knives, after all, are just as good at preventing violence as they are at inflicting it. For other tragedies, Marinette was only able to witness the aftermath. For the victims, she had nothing to give. Knives can only hurt, they cannot heal.

Marinette loathes Gotham, a hatred that burns through her down to her core. In the Court of Owls, violence was planned. On the streets of Gotham, violence was random. It was so much worse. But a safer city would be more dangerous for Marinette, who needed deep shadows to hide in.

Marinette lived on the streets. She knew that she could pickpocket enough money to rent an apartment. It would be easy, the roughest slums of Gotham, to find someone willing to rent to a child, so long as they had the money. But Marinette's fear and pain had nothing to do with the physical conditions of living on the streets. It was all psychological. The horrors that Marinette had seen haunted her like a ghost.

The worst incident was Hannah, whose death shattered Marinette to her very core. Hannah was only seventeen years old, only two years older than Marinette herself. Marinette didn't know much about the girl, other than that she was on the streets because her boyfriend had threatened to kill her and the police wouldn't do anything until there was physical proof. Except, the way Hannah explained it was that the police wouldn't get involved until she was already dead. Marinette had offered to protect the older girl, but she shooed her away. Hannah told Marinette that she wouldn't let anything happen to herself. She told Marinette that she was tough.

Evidently, Hannah wasn't tough enough for the streets of Gotham. Marinette cried over the body for thirty minutes, cried so hard for so long that she knew she wasn't a knife anymore. Knives would never cry. Knives would cut right back. But Marinette was so sick of violence, so she cried and cried. Eventually, she knocked on the door of a house down the street, asking to borrow a phone to call the police and report a murder. Hannah's body was taken away. The police were ambivalent, they didn't even ask Marinette for a statement. To the police, Hannah was another victim of Gotham and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

This world was so deeply and terribly bad that Marinette didn't know how the rest of the world could survive it. Marinette didn't know if she wanted to survive it.

-----

Marinette was sixteen years old, and she finally got herself involved in the vigilante side of Gotham. Before Red Hood entered the scene, Crime Alley was a mess of villains and vigilantes, in a constant battle between chaos and order. Marinette never got involved. She had spent many years as a weapon, long enough to learn that a weapon can only harm and can never heal.

Red Hood toed the line between villain and vigilante. His network of crime was more civilized than any other the other organizations vying for control of Gotham. He kept the streets safe by keeping the most dangerous players in line. Marinette had to admit, he did more good for Crime Alley than Gotham's actual police force.

Still, that didn't mean that Marinette wanted to get involved. She preferred to keep to herself, keep out of the way, and keep in the shadows. It was safer that way.

That November evening when Marinette met Red Hood was cold. The rain that had come in the afternoon had frozen to ice. Marinette shivered as she sat in the alleyway, back against the brick wall, arms wrapped around her knees, hugging herself into a tight little ball. Winter was fast approaching, and Marinette knew that she needed to find better shelter.

Marinette hadn't been quick enough. Marinette should have fled the alley as soon as she saw the three brutish men start walking down it, but she was so cold she wasn't sure if she would be able to get her feet to move. By the time Marinette had gotten her feet under her to stand up, the three men were surrounding her.

The man in the middle leered at her. "You look cold. Why don't you come with us? We'll keep you warm."

There wasn't a trace of a question in his voice. It was a command. However, Marinette knew what happened to the girls who took up the offer, so she vigorously shook her head. She would rather freeze to death than join him in his bed.

"That wasn't a question," he growled, reaching down to grab her and pull her to her feet.

"I wouldn't touch her if I were you," an unfamiliar voice piped up from farther down the alley. "I just might have to remove your hand if you do."

"Red Hood! I was just helping the girl to her feet. I swear I wasn't going to do anything to her." The man sounded terrified, and for good reason. The punishment that Red Hood chose for rapists was well known for its brutality.

"You should leave," snapped Red Hood. The men hurried out of the alleyway, running without looking back. Marinette watched them go, relief rushing through her.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Red Hood asked, offering Marinette a hand to help her to her feet.

Marinette shook her head, squeezing herself into a tighter ball.

"I can take you to the nearest homeless shelter or I can take you to the nearest of my safehouses until I set you up in something permanent."

"I'm fine here," mumbled Marinette. It was the first time she had spoken in weeks. Her own voice sounded foreign to her.

Red Hood scoffed. "You'll freeze to death out here. It's either a homeless shelter or a safehouse. I don't leave girls out on the streets. Not in Gotham. Not in Crime Alley."

Marinette shivered, feeling more than miserable. It was obvious that she wasn't going to be able to convince Red Hood to leave her. A homeless shelter might need identification, which Marinette didn't have. Going to his safehouse was her best bet. "Safehouse."

Red Hood pulled Marinette to her feet. "Alright, safehouse it is. Mind telling me your name?"

"Marinette."

"No last name?"

Marinette shook her head. She hadn't earned a surname yet.

Red Hood took her back to the safehouse and got her settled, bringing over groceries every week as he tried to tempt her into giving him more information about herself. Marinette was reticent to tell him about her past. She doubted that he would still trust her enough to leave her alone if he learned that she used to work as an assassin.

However, Marinette couldn't keep that secret for very long. Two months after meeting Red Hood, as she waited in the kitchen for him to arrive with his weekly delivery of groceries, Marinette was caught off guard as a dark figure burst through the door and attacked her. Marinette didn't want to fight the dark-haired girl, but to be honest she couldn't see any other option, considering the other girl attacked first. The girl was skilled and Marinette was out of practice, after two years away from the Court. The best she could do was hold the other girl off while she tried to figure out an escape plan.

Red Hood came in the front door, which was already ajar from the entrance of the other girl. "Black Bat, stop! Marinette is my guest here," shouted Red Hood over the commotion of the fight.

Black Bat ceased her offensive, falling back into a defensive crouch. She pointed one finger at Marinette and accused, "Talon."

Marinette cringed back. "Not anymore. Never, ever again."

Red Hood stared at Marinette in shock. "You were an assassin?"

Marinette nodded miserably, wishing she could be anywhere else. She should have escaped the safehouse when she had the chance, but her stupid brain decided that Red Hood's safehouse would be a good place as any to spend the winter months.

"Cass? Jason? Why was the door left open...?" The civilian man who walked through the open door stared at the scene in front of him in confusion.

"Aliases, Grayson!" exclaimed Red Hood, or, Jason as he had just been named. Jason took off his mask, casting it aside as he ran his hand through his hair with a groan. "Black Bat, you take Marinette back to the bedroom and help her put bruise cream on wherever you managed to hit her. Grayson, you're coming with me back to the cave so we can explain this situation to you-know-who." Jason almost reached the door before he let out a loud swear "Fuck! I cannot believe that I have to be the responsible one here."

As Jason and his friend left the safehouse, Marinette followed Black Bat - Cass - down the hallway to the bedroom. "Sit," ordered Cass, pointing towards the bed as she starting digging through the bathroom cabinet, looking for bruise cream.

Marinette stripped off her shirt so that Cass could get to the bruises. The only significant hit was a kick to the chest that knocked the breath out of Marinette. It was already turning yellow. Marinette poked it and grimaced at the twinge of pain that followed.

"Don't worry," said Cass as she started to rub the medicine onto Marinette's chest. "Jason will keep you safe."

Cass wasn't lying. Whatever Jason said or did in the hours that he was gone that day, it worked. Two days later, Marinette was moving into Wayne Manor.

Jason explained it all to her on the drive over. "Bruce - Batman - doesn't want an ex-assassin living on the streets in Crime Alley, especially not one in possession of compromising information about our identities. Given that you've already taken the first step towards reformation, Bruce is pretty confident that you're safe to live in the house. He'll help you get back on your feet, get you a new identity, an education, or anything you need."

Marinette froze for a moment, then wrapped Jason up in a hug. It was her first hug and it was better than she expected. "Thank you."

-----

Marinette was seventeen years old, and she finally had a family. The Wayne household was a chaotic place. Marinette used to think that she hated chaos, but she could now see the appeal. Coffee at midnight with Tim, practicing acrobatics with Dick, racing motorcycles with Jason, rescuing farm animals with Damian - none of it was normal, and because of that, Marinette loved it. However, when things got overwhelming and Marinette needed a break from the chaos, she always knew where to go.

Cass was one of the only quiet Waynes (the other being Alfred). In fact, she barely spoke at all. Marinette had learned that she and Cass had quite a few similarities in the nature of their childhoods. They were both taken from at least one of their parents, both raised to be assassins from a young age, both were isolated from the rest of society. Where they differed was the particulars of their education. Cass was raised without language, and she only learned how to speak after she escaped from her father's grasp.

One night, after a patrol that led to Marinette stumbling upon a body that reminded her of Hannah from all those years ago, Marinette walked through the halls of the Manor to Cass's bedroom. All anyone wanted was for Marinette to talk about it. Cass was the only person who wouldn't make that demand of Marinette.

Marinette knocked on the door, two quiet little knocks. Cass cracked open the door, then gestured for Marinette to come inside. Marinette settled down on the couch in the corner, trying to pick out the questions that she wanted to ask Cass. There were so many questions, but Marinette knew that only a few of them were worth asking. They sat in silence for a while, Marinette so lost in thought that she almost forgot that Cass was there, too. Finally, Marinette settled on the question. "Do you ever wish that you could change the past?"

Cass was silent, deep in thought for a few moments before she shook her head. "No."

"Not even if it meant that you could have had a normal childhood?"

"I had a hard childhood," Cass acknowledged. "I like where I ended up. I wouldn't be here without my childhood."

Marinette had one last question to ask. "If you're able to speak now, why do you barely talk."

"I learned to speak," agreed Cass, going silent for a moment before continuing. "I have become proficient at using words to deliver information but I lack the skill to converse with others. I find it difficult to use any more words than necessary. For that reason, people do not like talking to me. I do not talk to those who do not want to talk to me."

"I like talking to you," said Marinette, squeezing Cass's hand. "I can talk enough for the both of us. You don't mind my talking, do you?"

Cass shook her head. "I find your words tolerable. Sometimes even pleasant."

It was a high compliment from Cass. Marinette smiled. "May I hug you?"

Cass nodded, and Marinette wrapped her dearest friend up in a hug.

-----

Marinette was eighteen years old, and it was time for her to create a new identity for herself.

"Do you want a surname?" asked Bruce.

Marinette stared at the screen. There were three options in front of here. The first, to remain nameless. The second, to take on the name she was born with, Dupain-Cheng in remembrance of her parents and the childhood she never got to have. The third, to move on entirely from her past and embrace the future. "Wayne. Marinette Wayne."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[keltonwrites]

I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed.  “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

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[studiobeebo]

~♡ Shio, Shoyu, Miso ♡~ [1/?]

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Female (she/her) Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 1.9K

Genre: y’all already know it’s just gonna be fluff

A/N: so i made a lil thing sorta based off this cute thing i saw on reddit. idk what i’m doing pls don’t ask.

reblogs are greatly appreciated as they are the main way to get my works around so please consider doing so if you like it! enjoy!

When you had first met Megumi, you honestly didn’t think much of him.

Now, that’s not to say you didn’t find him attractive, but a cute guy around your age coming into the shop with a few of his friends just really wasn’t something very noteworthy in your life. You had only been helping your parents around your family owned ramen shop for about a year or so, but that was long enough to know that the general demographic was people who wanted a tasty, warm meal without having to blow too much money. Needless to say, teenagers fit that demographic fairly well. 

Your shop was well known in the area, but it was by no means fancy. In fact the building was a tad bit run down, you didn’t even have any decorations or anything hanging up on the walls and the entirety of it only seated maybe thirty people, so it was clear people didn’t frequent the place because of the ambiance. No, the reason you always seemed to have a steady stream of customers was that the food was simply so good that despite the lack of an enticing atmosphere or even many food options, people couldn’t help but be drawn to it. That mashed together with your friendly family and the decent prices made for a perfect little neighborhood place to eat. So again, when a group of three slightly noisy teenagers sat themselves down at one of the bar tables on the far side of the seating area, you didn’t really have any reason to bat an eye.

“Hey welcome guys!” You put on your usual cheery customer service voice as you filled their glasses with ice water, trying not to lean into any of their personal spaces. “Your options are salt, soy, or miso ramen, with or without beef and or pork. Do you need some time to think about it or do you think you’re ready to order now?” 

Like you said, there weren’t many options.

“Oh, can I get soy?! Or maybe- hm, maybe I’ll have miso…”

“You’re tasteless, miso is the worst kind.”

“I bet you’ve never even tried it, Kugisaki!”

“They’re going to need a minute to think. That bit’s hard for them.” 

The taller boy with dark hair and an apparently permanent scowl on his face groaned out in annoyance, his eyes only meeting yours for a moment before he turned to yell at the other two to lower their voices. You nodded with a smile, leaving them to decide and chuckling to yourself as you moved on to ask the customers at the other tables if they were doing ok.

“Ok! Excuse me- er....crap, what was her name again Fushiguro?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, usually you remember to ask the important stuff like that!”

The not-so-subtle arguing was enough to catch your attention as you made your way back over to the trio, your smile being a bit more genuine this time around in response to their odd yet funny dynamic.

“It’s (Y/N), sorry about that guys! So, what can I get for ya?”

The three of them listed off their orders and after you repeated them back for confirmation, you gave them a quick thumbs up before going back to the kitchen to put their orders in with your dad. Within a moment of your absence, Itadori was turning to Fushiguro with that excited puppy look that adorned his face almost 24/7.

“She’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”

Fushiguro’s eye twitched, but luckily Kugisaki was quick to butt in with an argument of ‘How come you’re only asking him what he thinks, huh?!’. It was a simple question, but what annoyed him was the added use of ‘kind of’. Itadori was extremely simple, so the thought that he only thought you were ‘kind of’ pretty irritated him because how could Fushiguro be here doing a double take just to get a better look at your features every time you spoke to them while Itadori just barely took note of it? It was uncharacteristic, but he couldn’t disagree. He could tell you definitely had a slight air of putting on a cheery showiness for the sake of good customer service, but either way, you were...cute, and he was insistent on leaving it at that without bothering to admit to it out loud.

“I hope you both know you’re paying for yourselves.” He interrupted, hoping their argument had moved on from their waitress so that he wouldn’t be asked about his thoughts on you again. 

“Eh?! Since when were you so cheap!”

“Ok guys!”

The three of them jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, simultaneously turning to see you holding up a tray with three steaming bowls of ramen sat atop of it. 

“Soy with beef, soy with pork..” You listed off while setting the bowls in front of the copper haired girl and the smiley boy respectively, “And miso with no topping.” You finished, eyes flicking up to meet the dark haired boys as you placed the final bowl in front of him. It was only for a moment, but you could have sworn your saw a speckle of pink dust his cheeks before he looked away from you with a short “Thanks.”.

“Mhm, no problem.” You hummed out, scanning your eyes around the restaurant to see if you were immediately needed elsewhere before deciding to continue and indulge your interest in the three, or more specifically, your interest in the cute boy with the black hair. “So... you guys are from that traditional religious high school, right?”

The pink haired one’s eyes lit up as he struggled to finish the noodles he was halfway through slurping up so that he could speak.

“Yeah, yeah! I guess our uniforms are a giveaway..”

You laughed, leaning your back against the empty seat that sat next to them at the bar. As if you needed any further confirmation, you could tell he was the energetic extrovert of the group.

“Yeah, you don’t really see many of them around. Though I’ve heard it’s kind of a hard school to get into.”

“Pfft, maybe for normal people, it was no sweat for us.” There was that copper haired girl again with a confident look on her face as she too stopped eating to interject, though you hardly took what she said in a bad way as she didn’t seem to mean any harm from it.

“That so? Guess I’ll have to call you guys next time I’m having trouble with my classes, I swear I can barely manage the workload I get.”

“Haha I feel that, I actually started school elsewhere but I just transferred a few months ago! Oh- I’m Itadori by the way! This is Kugisaki, and Fushiguro’s the sulking rude one!”

“Hey.” Fushiguro finally stopped his eavesdropping to join in, sending a glare Itadori’s way, but he just seemed to brush it off as if he’d been under his friends' scrutiny plenty of times before. After a moment though he turned back to you, though as much as he wanted to say something to you, he didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t like Itadori or Kugisaki who could just strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, but while he turned over his conversational options in his head, you pushed away from where you had previously been leaning and gave a sheepish, apologetic smile that easily brought his attention away from his thoughts. 

“No no you’re good- Sorry, I should be leavin’ you guys to eat anyway. Just call me over when you’re ready to pay or if you need anything, alright?” You spoke, your words being directed more towards who you now knew as ‘Fushiguro’, however it was his two friends who responded with an affirmation before going back to their meals.

Once again you were off to tend to other tables and do the other tidbits of your job, though this time your head was filled with questions galore. Did Jujutsu Tech students come into town often, or was this some special outing? What grades were the three of them in? And most importantly, you wondered if they would ever be coming back? You weren’t one to get flustered or form crushes easily, but you had to admit you were a bit taken by Fushiguro. He was cute, sure, but he had a cool, mature air about him that could make anyone be left wanting to know more about him, especially because most of the conversation you did have was with his friends and not him. However once again your mental flow was interrupted by Itadori waving you over, barely waiting for you to make your way by their side to start speaking while the three of them handed over their respective payments.

“That was crazy good, (Y/N), we’ll have to come by some time again if that’s ok!”

“It’s not like she’s the one making it, Itadori.”

“You realize that a restaurant’s whole goal is to get people to come back, right? Of course it’s ‘ok’..”

Despite Fushiguro’s matter-of-fact statement, his eyes still shifted to yours as if he secretly wanted to know if you wanted them to come back as well and the smile you gave him in return only solidified the fact that he wanted to return either way. Though of course he boiled that down to ‘The service was good and so was the food’, but part of him knew that was bullshit.

“I’d love to see you guys around again!” You said, collecting up their empty bowls as you spoke. “I work most weekends and some days after class so you should try to stop in while I’m here.”

“Hell yeah!” Itadori exclaimed as the three of them got up from their seats one after the other, Kugisaki and Itadori saying their goodbye’s as they pardoned their way through the tables and other customers to leave, though Fushiguro stayed behind for a moment, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke.

“...Sorry about them, it’s practically like wrangling preschoolers whenever we aren’t on du- er, in class.” 

He knew the apology wasn’t necessary and that you didn’t seem all that bothered by either of his friends’ lively personalities, but he found himself feeling a bit...left out in the fact that he had yet to really speak to you. Why he even felt compelled to speak to you in the first place was a mystery, but he figured that was one question that didn’t really need an answer for right now.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You laughed, giving another smile as you tried your hardest to not act as fidgety as you were feeling on the inside. “I mean- I’ve got friends like that too so I-“

“Excuse me?” 

A polite voice cut you off halfway through your sentence and you turned to see an older woman waving you over, clearly not wanting to be rude but wanting your attention nevertheless.

“Sorry-“

“You’re fine!” You sputtered out, maybe a bit too excited as you slowly backed away from him, “I’ll see you around if you guys stop by again, huh, Fushiguro?”

His eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised by that hopeful tone to your voice before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a bit of slightly shameful excitement tugging at his heart. 

“Yeah, we’ll- I’ll see you around.”

[lordabovehelpme]

Hello Lordy, I hope you are well ❤ Since apparently Din is Mandalore's ruler and he and Bo-Katan must fight to the death for the Darksaber and the power over Mandalore, what if the Reader fights Bo-Katan but to take Din's hand in marriage? Reader wins and lets Bo live or whatever you want it to end

Marry Me?- Din Djarin x Reader

A/n: Okay, so I kind of made an AU for this. Practically, Mandalore is still under control of the mandalorian monarchy. And so, Din is king and the elders are like his advisors. Hopefully this makes sense. If this is totally not what you had in mind, please reach out and I can do something else. :) 

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

The sound of your knock echoes through the hall. A gruff “come in” greets you from behind the closed doors. Slowly, you slide between them and shut them after.

“Good morning, my King.” You bend at the waist and lower your head to him. He turns to look at you and behind the helmet a smile breaks loose.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Din?” He walks over and places his gloved fingers below your chin, pulling your head to look up at him.

You smile, willing the heat in your cheeks to freeze. “Probably a handful more.” The two of you just look at each other for a while, his hand never leaving it’s spot. But then the event of the day breaks your trance. Pulling away from his touch, you walk over to his closet. “What do you want to wear for this big day?”

His head tilts slightly, “Big day?”

“Yeah, all the fun ladies are going to fight for your hand.” Throwing him a mischievous glance, you pull one of his capes from its hanger and wrap it around you. “Oh King,” you throw your hand over your forehead and make your voice two pitches higher. “Please my King, marry me. I’ll warm your bed and stand next to you all pretty.” Grabbing his crown from off of its stand, you place it on your head. “Let me wear your crown and steal all your money.” Clutching your hands together, you bat your eyes at him.

“What are you doing?” You don’t know it, but behind the crossed arms and low baritone of his voice, his heart flutters with the idea.

You turn to him and gawk. “I’m being your future wife. Din, as much as I love you, any woman who is going to fight for your hand wants your money and your power. Come on, is this another one of those moments where your brain goes all…” your hands frantically move in the air, trying to form the word on the tip of your tongue, “mando on me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shrugging your shoulders, you hand him his crown.

“I don’t know, I just… There are moments where you are the most brilliant man and yet here we are, hours before women go around battling each other to be your wife. There just seems to be better options for this.”

He sighs and places the crown atop his helmet, pulling the cape from your body and letting it fall from his shoulders. “You know this is the only way. This has been the way since the beginning of mandalore. I can’t just change it because you think it’s terrible.”

Frowning you look at him, “I think it’s terrible? You don’t?” When he offers you no response you throw your hands up in frustration. “Maker Din, we’ve been friends since childhood, I thought I knew you, but apparently not.” Walking over to the doors, you turn and glare at him. “People are going to die today, unnecessary bloodshed, and even though you can stop it, you won’t. Fine, my King,” Your voice is laced with malice, “do what you want. But don’t you dare come crawling to me when your wife gives you a run for your money.” Slamming the doors behind you, you walk away from his chambers, tears starting to run down your face.

***

“Don’t talk to me, I’m still mad at you.” Sitting down beside him, you glance down at the arena below.

“You know I can’t do anythi-”

“You can, you’re just too scared to do it.”

He turns, his visor trained on your face. You can tell he wants to say something but the loud sound of a horn interrupts him.

Female warriors line up, but the one that really strikes you is Bo-katan. She’s known for her ruthless style of fighting. You swear she’s never even heard the word mercy. Biting your lip, your stomach turns in nausea, something bad is going to happen.

Her eyes lock onto yours and she lifts her chin, trying to dominate you. She is the last person you would want for Din to marry. The other women can be tolerated, in fact, even a few you would be happy if they won, but not her.

Even when the horn blares again, her piercing gaze never leaves yours. Finally, she puts her helmet on and walks out of the arena, preparing for her own fight.

“I hate this.” Two females enter, each given a spear of beskar. Their names are announced by one of the elders of the kingdom. The mandalorian next to you, does nothing to show his acknowledgment. The women bow and erupt into a fast dance for dominance.

The clang of beskar on beskar rings through the area and makes you bite your lip harder. As soon as it starts, it ends, the larger woman is on the ground, the other holding a spear to her throat. Thankfully, you watch as the woman holds her hands up in defeat and walks out of the arena.

Another warrior walks in, grabbing the spear and bows as the elder tells her name to anyone who will listen. Just as before, they bow and start their own waltz.

***

It’s down to the last two women. A younger female who you have crossed paths with a few times. From those times you know she is nice and sweet, however a little too heart driven for your taste. But it's the woman who stands across from her that makes your blood pump and your heart stop.

Bo-katan.

You watch as her helmet turns to you, her visor trained on you for a second longer than you’d ever like, and she turns back to the other warrior. They bow and the crowd roars, but not even the cries can cover the sharp clang.

Both women fight violently and strongly. Din’s elbows rest on his knees, allowing his head to be held up by his hands. But then, a cry of pain echoes throughout the arena, making your heart clench.

Bo-katan has directed a nasty stab to the woman's thigh, making her kneel onto the ground.

You watch in horror as she kicks the woman onto her back, knocking the spear from her hands. Using her foot, she lifts the helmet from the fallen warriors head. Her eyes are blown wide in fear. The entire kingdom has grown silent, on edge for Bo-katan's next move.

She raises the spear above her head, tip angled for the woman's forehead. Your body moves before your mind even comprehends what is happening. Flying from your seat, you jump into the arena. Grabbing the discarded spear, you sprint for the women in the center.

The sun glints off of Bo-katan's helmet as she pierces the spear down, throwing all her weight behind her swing.

Clang!

No one moves, even the birds stop their song. Your chest heaves as you push against her attack. You’ve placed yourself atop the injured female, spear held horizontally. Somehow you made it in just enough time to spare the woman's life. Both beskar spears are held against each other, neither one attacking or retreating.

Bo-katan brings the spear to her side and backs a few steps away. She starts circling you as you stand. Looking down at the hurt woman, you flash her a quick smile. “Go, please, while you can. You fought bravely, just please, leave.”

She nods her head, before grabbing her helmet and running as fast as her legs will carry her with the gash in her thigh.

“Well look who we have here, the King’s play thing.” She looks up to Din and the elders by his side. Yelling up to them, she exclaims, “You need to put her back on her leash, no use having a pet who won’t respond to you.”

You glare at her, holding your spear ready for her attack. Knowing her, it will happen as soon as you let your guard down. Your eyes flicker to Din. He is standing, talking to the elders by his side.

One of the elders says something to him and Din sinks down into his seat, worry written all over his body language.

“So, I defeated them all, when am I handed the crown?” Bo-katan wipes blood from the tip of her spear and your stomach does a flip.

“You have one more warrior to defeat, Bo-katan. She has entered the arena and so you two must fight for the King's hand.” The elder informs.

“What?” Both you and her cry out.

“Please go to the beginning position and carry on.” The elder, not wanting any more questions, sits down and claps his hands.

Bo-katan’s helmet flies to meet your gaze. She sighs, “Guess I’ll just have to kill you.” Walking back over to the center of the arena, she gets into position to bow.

Giving one last glance to Din you walk over to face her. “We’ll see about that.”

She begins to bow and so you follow. Although the warrior might be stronger than you, you’re smarter. You easily predict the fact that she would attack you during the bow. It’s a cheap and dirty trick and yet you’ve seen her use it a thousand times.

“Thought that’d work, huh?” You dodge her jab and spin to your right. She growls, and you two just circle each other. Her waiting for you to drop your guard, and you gauging her next move.

A slight shift of weight gives her attack away, and as she swings for your head, you slip between her legs, jabbing the middle of her back. She stumbles forward, before regaining her footing.

“Just because you got one hit one me doesn’t mean you’ve won, pet.”

You don’t respond and it just makes her even more mad. The crowd no longer cheers or screams, they all just sit on the edge of their seats, watching in silence. Her comment flows to every pair of ears in the arena, Din’s included.

There, there it is.

A fault in her confident steps, a slight misstep and you pounce. Throwing your body weight at her, you use your spear to sweep her feet and she plummets to the dusty floor.

You swing the spear around and place the tip just before it can pierce the skin of her neck. Her chest moves up and down with her heavy breaths. Using your foot, you kick her spear out of her hand and her reach.

“The winner has been decided!” The crowd explodes in cheers. It’s almost deafening, but you stare down at her, and she up at you.

Slamming her fists down on the ground beside her, she snarls. Bringing the spear back to your side, you offer her a hand. She grabs it and you help her up. Bowing, you turn away from her and start to walk back out of the arena.

A cry comes from her as she charges you. Stepping to the side, you move just out of her reach. Looking down you just frown. “You should learn to not be so transparent with your thoughts.”

This time, you leave her on the ground and climb up back to the balcony where Din sits. He just watches as you approach, not capable of moving.

“I told you something was going to go wrong. Just be glad I could fix it this time.”

He watches in disbelief as you walk away to your chambers.

***

You skipped dinner, not really in the mood to see anyone. Looking out your window you watch as the sun sets and the moon rises.

Taking a long bath, you think over the mess you’ve created for yourself. You don’t regret saving the woman's life or beating Bo-katan, it’s just the thought of being Din’s wife that stumps you.

Any person would be lucky to have him as a husband, and you should be happy. But the two of you have been friends for years, there is no way Din likes you like that. There's no way he likes you the way you like him.

You’ve kicked yourself for years for falling for your childhood friend. You’d be lying if you said you weren't jealous when the elders announced that he needed a wife.

A knock sounds at your door and you're confused. Who would be up this late?

“It’s unlocked.”

The door opens and slowly closes. Looking up you see the mandalorian just standing. His hands clench and unclean slightly, showing his discomfort.

Shocked, you close your robe tighter around your body and will your heart to beat at a normal pace. “What’s wrong?”

“Why did you not come to dinner?”

“Oh, um I just wasn’t very hungry.” You look down at the floor, tension thick in the room.

“I-uh…” He walks over and grabs your hands. “You were really amazing out there.”

“Oh, thanks.” Chuckling, you try to ease the tension in the room, but your comment only makes it worse. “I guess I’m your wife now.”

“About that-”

“Din, I want you to know that you obviously don't have to marry me. I mean like we’ve been friends forever. And plus, I’m sure some girl has caught your eye. I just couldn’t stand there and let Bo-katan kill that woman, it wasn’t right.”

His finger reaches up and tilts your head to look at him, an action you should be used to and yet it still makes your stomach flip. “Just let me speak for a second.”

You nod, biting your lip and cursing yourself for rambling.

“Look,” He sighs, “I- I was so excited when the elders said I needed a wife.”

Feeling your face fall, your mind screams at you for being so dumb to think he’d ever like you.

“But I realized something this morning after you yelled at me. You were right. There is only one person I know who would never use me and would just love me for me.”

Your eyes leave his helmet and look down at the floor. Curiosity gets the best of you and you quietly ask, “Who is it?”

A chuckle falls from his lips before he says, “You.”

It takes a second for your mind to process the word. Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to meet his gaze. “Me?”

“It’s always been you cyare. Ever since we were young I have always liked you.”

A smile forms on your lips as memories of the mandalorian and you playing as kids flash through your mind. “The whole time?”

He nods, “The whole time.” He pauses before saying fondly, “Well ever since you caught that fish with your bare hands.”

Both of you laugh now. “I can’t believe you remember that!”

“How could I not? You threw the dang thing at me.”

Giggling, you remember the look of horror on his features when you tossed the flopping fish at your new friend.

“Cyar’ika, on a serious note. You don’t have to, but…” He stops, and you watch as his head sinks into his shoulders.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.” You wrap a hand around his bicep and squeeze in a comforting manner.

“Will you marry me?”

Smiling, you launch yourself into his arms. “Of course.”

His arms wrap around you and his hands trail along your spine. “I love you cyare.”

“Love you too.”

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

Anyway, I hope you liked it and this is kind of what you had in mind! 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Love, Lordy :) 

Masterlist 

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi 

If you want to be added to my taglist, just give me a holler! 

[kumeko]

Title: Garreg Mach Yearbook Chronicles

A/N: For the @garregmachzine I got to write four different snippets. It was a fun challenge trying to cram everything into a drabble.

Featuring: Leonie's troubles with Seteth and Flayn, Hilda charming Ferdinand to escape battle, Annette dealing with a club composed of Linhardt and Marianne, and Claude dodging Hubert's censor.

…

…

…

…

Fishing Tournament

Sitting on the banks of the pond, Leonie watched as her bobber dipped in and out of the water, floating idly along an invisible current. With any luck, she’d catch a fish soon. A big one, hopefully. Usually by now she’d have caught at least one or two, but then usually she was also alone while she fished. Leonie cast an eye around her, biting her cheek at the sight of her fellow classmates. Despite how early in the morning it was, it felt like half the monastery was sitting along the pond, trying their best to catch a fish.

Then again, it wasn’t everyday that Seteth held a fishing contest. After all that’d happened in the past few months, she couldn’t deny that they needed a break like this and it seemed that everyone else agreed. Byleth sat at the docks, quietly fishing. Next to her, Sylvain lost his balance and flailed as he struggled to keep out of the water. In the distance, she spotted Caspar and Raphael comparing their catches.

“I see you are also entering the fishing contest,” a slightly musical voice asked from behind her. Startled from her thoughts, Leonie looked up in time to catch Flayn as she sat down next to her. Like, right next to her. Smiling softly, Flayn clasped her hands together as she stared at Leonie’s rod. “Did you catch anything?”

“N-not yet.” Leonie shook her head, feeling a little awkward at the proximity. Maybe if she shifted the other way—

“That is a pity.” Seteth slowly sat down on her other side, a fishing rod in hand. He cast his line, his eyes on her the entire time. “It will not be much of a contest if there are no entries.”

Leonie resisted the urge to get up and run. What was it with these siblings, pinning her in like this? She felt sandwiched, with no way to escape. “I’m sure someone will manage to catch a good fish or two. Give me an hour, and I’m sure I can wrangle up a few myself.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Flayn clapped her hands. “However, that leaves a different problem. We’ll have all these fishes, and no one to cook them.”

Leonie swallowed. This was starting to sound familiar. “There are plenty of cooks—”

“Leonie has excellent skills,” Seteth suggested, as though he’d just thought of it. “Maybe she could?”

“Really?” Flayn lit up, before flashing her an innocent smile. “Leonie, would you mind?”

She should have just listened to her instincts and run.

-x-

Crest Studies

When Annette joined the academy, she had never seen herself leading a club, or leading anything for that matter. Sure, she would join one or two, but leadership was for the elites, for Dimitri’s and Sylvain’s of the world. Well, maybe not Sylvain exactly, but there were plenty other nobles who could fit the bill. Ferdinand. Lorenz. Hubert.

Yet it was her, not them, standing in front of the Blue Lions classroom, looking at her Crest Studies clubmates. To be perfectly honest, when the other options were the lazy Lindhardt and the shy Marianne, if Annette didn’t take the lead, nothing would get done. Even now, Lindhardt was dozing on his desk while Marianne fidgeted nervously.

Annette bit her cheek. She should have joined the gardening club. Clearing her throat, she announced, “For today’s activity, we’re going to the market.”

“W-what?” Marianne’s eyes grew wide. Sometimes, it looked like she didn’t know why she was in the club. “The market?”

“Why?” Lazily, Lindhardt lifted his head and gave her a baleful glare. “That’s a waste of effort.”

From the teacher’s desk, Professor Hanneman gave her thumbs up. At least someone liked her proposition. Annette quickly refuted, “It’s not.”

“We study crests,” Lindhardt replied languidly. “It’s a waste.”

Something about him always riled her up. She could feel her hackles rising. Stalking toward him, she rested her hands on her hip and bit out. “It’s not. We need to know what people think of crests.”

“Annette’s right.” Hanneman nodded sagely, intervening before an argument started. “It’s important to consider different perspectives when studying a topic.”

“But talking to people…” Marianne gnawed on her lip. “I’m not sure—”

“It’ll be fine.” Annette clasped Marianne’s hands, squeezing them tight. “Besides, we’re going to interview later, so this is good practice.”

Hesitantly, Marianne nodded. “I-I suppose that’s true.”

“Can’t we just interview now and get it over with?” Linhardt interjected, yawning.

Annette pulled Marianne up to her feet. “We’re going to the market,” she stated firmly, refusing to broker any more arguments. “If you want to decide what we’re doing, then you be the club president.”

It was an ultimatum he’d never take, and they both knew it. With a sigh, he got up. “Fine, I suppose there’s some merit to it.”

“Good.” Annette grinned as she gently tugged Marianne toward the door. Finally, she could tell Mercedes that they’d done something other than sit in a classroom. Finally, just like all the other clubs, she was going to go out with her clubmates and do something fun.

Perhaps there was some merit to being club president, after all.

-x-

Battle of the Eagle and Lion

I’d say it is an honour to write about the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but that was before so many of my drafts got mysteriously burned or destroyed because if I happen to make any unflattering comments about Edelgard, I have to start over. Though I would argue they aren’t disparaging, but who am I to argue with her guard dog, Hubert?

So what can I say about the Battle? Well, I guess the obvious—all three of our houses showed what they did best: Edelgard with her strategies, Dimitri with his training, and me with my ‘schemes’. I call them strategies, others call them traps, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Honestly, I didn’t do anything sinister this time around. If a lot of students just happened to get a case of mild food poisoning, well, things happen. Raphael got it too and you don’t hear me complaining about sabotage.

Let’s see, something flattering—ah, I know! It’s actually quite impressive how much Edelgard was able to move despite her illness. Honestly, if someone had poisoned, they’d better know to up the dosage next time. Despite her thinning ranks, she managed to set up her classmates quite skillfully, and Hubert somehow managed to do a lot of damage despite looking like he needed to find the closest toilet.

Of course, Dimitri powered his way through the food poisoning. I think he’s got the strength of a dozen soldiers, or boars as Felix likes to put it. Felix also managed to move, but I think that was purely out of spite. It’s amazing what a motivation spite is. Then again, I think Hubert would know all about that, wouldn’t he?

My house, of course, were the cleverest of the bunch, carefully goading out our enemies and defeating them one by one. Despite losing our strongest member, we rallied around each other and fought back. It was a close fight by all reckoning. And honestly if Edelgard lost (notice I said if, Hubert!), it wouldn’t be all that shameful, considering the handicaps she had.

Now, you might be wondering who actually won? Why it’s (scorched words) of course! Was there ever any doubt?

-x-

Mission Battles

Out of all the school activities she was forced to do, Hilda disliked the missions and mock battles the most. With the others, she could get away with appealing her classmates into helping her, whether it was Marianne in the library or Raphael with the stables or some other poor, hapless soul who crossed her path. As long as it was done, no one was the wiser.

On the battlefield, she wasn’t quite as lucky. No one could protect her the entire time and her charms were entirely wasted on the enemy. It wasn’t like they’d stop fighting her just because she asked.

Or maybe, if she—no, no, it was best to banish that thought. Hilda gripped her axe as she studied the battlefield before her. Just ahead of her was a bandit and unfortunately, there was no ally in sight to protect her. She was going to have to cut this one down herself. “I don’t suppose you’d back down?”

The bandit roared in response, charging at her.

“Step back!” Ferdinand quickly dashed ahead of her, his sword gleaming in the sunlight as he slashed down on her foe. With two quick strikes, the bandit was down and her rescuer looked at her triumphantly over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes! Thanks so much!” Hilda clasped one of his hands and gave him a soft smile. She stood corrected—she could absolutely charm her way through a battle, as long as it was one of those rare cross-house battles.

“No problem.” Ferdinand smiled brightly, before looking over his shoulder at Edelgard. “As you can see, I have struck down another enemy. That brings my count to higher than yours, does it not?”

“We’re in the middle of battle, Ferdinand,” Edelgard warned, axe clenched tightly in her hands. “We’re not competing.”

“Considering how one-sided it is, I could hardly call it a competition.” Ferdinand sniped, trying to pick a fight as usual.

Judging by Edelgard’s weary expression, his taunts still didn’t work. Determining that Hilda was safe enough, Ferdinand once more returned to Edelgard’s side, no doubt challenging her once again. It was impressive how he didn’t give up. A little sad, but impressive.

If he wasn’t going to give up, neither would she. There was bound to be another sucke—noble man willing to lay his life for a damsel in dress. Catching sight of a flash of red, Hilda smiled. “Oh, Sylvain!” she called out, batting her eyes.

Perhaps she could charm her way out of fighting too.

[phoenotopia]

The Last Phoenotopia Blog Update

(Date 2021 MAR 01)

I debated how to open this blog post, but perhaps the main crux of this blog post is the best place to start. The blog is being retired.

The purpose of this blog was to be a "development" blog for Phoenotopia, and well, Phoenotopia's development is done. I'll still be doing bug fixes and maintenance on the PC and Switch versions, and playstation and xbox ports are underway (by a publisher). But I'm not going to be making any more major changes to the game. At some point, you put the paintbrush down and say it's done. Blemishes and all.

Recent Events

The game launched on Steam last month, and like any launch, it was hectic. Bugs Galore. This is our first commercial PC launch, so it was a real baptism by fire. Unlike Switch's one configuration, the PC has multiple configurations and factors to account for. The game needed to be able to handle multiple control schemes, screen resolutions, refresh rates, and more! I had a 60Hz monitor going into launch and didn't know anything about Hz (I do now). There was a troublesome stutter that some players were sensitive to that my whole team didn't notice since our eyes compensated it away. There were a few times where in fixing something at one party's behest, it introduced problems for another party. A few times, due to disorganization, I unwittingly rolled back a fix that was meant to be applied. For some, the game couldn't play at all (really glad Steam allows refunds).

It was messy. It was tiring. I.AM.BEAT.

I think the worst of it is over... I'll still be around to do the last updates and bug fixes, but I'm ultimately ready for what's next.

SO what is next?

What isn't next... is Phoenotopia 2. As you may have heard down the grapevine, the game couldn't be what you call successful. No one's earned even minimum wage on it.

Maybe there's hope in the game's long tail. A year or two down the line... maybe. I won't hold my breath though. At some point in the past few months, I finished processing (or grieving) and it's time to move on.

The game has at least earned enough for us to continue our modest operations. As long as we don't expand the team, and we don't take another monster six-year dev cycle like what Phoenotopia took, we can continue. We'll have to be smarter and faster. Perhaps the most valuable thing we gained from all this is experience.

The Experience

It is a dev blog. Here are some of the lessons I've accumulated from this game's development.

- Have a good menu design. Menus aren't just that in-between fluff before you get to the good stuff. Menus are KEY. Your menus need to be robust, expandable, and *understandable* (to you, the developer). Because once the game's out, you will invariably be asked to add more options. And if your menu design is bad, every time you have to add a new menu option, it becomes a whole new pain all over again. Support mouse from the get-go, etc.

- Focus on features that people will actually care about. For instance, I've never seen anyone praise the camera's zoom feature. In practice, people try that feature a few times and then never use it again. But that feature was a constant consideration factor for every level. Run through it multiple times to make sure the level didn't break, think about which zoom levels made sense, resize rooms because they worked at one zoom level but not the other, and so on.

- Don't do boxes that you can move around. Other 2D platformers avoid movable boxes because they're a huge headache to program and they really complicate the game space. Enemies need to respond to boxes you throw in their path and either navigate around or attack it. When you're moving the box, you have to worry about constantly changing your collision size and reconciling when the box gets snagged on the environment. The boxes were also a constant source of bugs because people can manipulate them to soft-lock themselves and more.

- More focused script. Phoenotopia's 100,000+ word script was panned more for being bloated than it was praised for being lengthy. Long scripts take a long time to write and make the game more unwieldy, increasing the costs of translation and upkeep. Every update we're addressing some textual error or mistranslation. There are some highly renowned games (e.g. Hyper Light Drifter) that do without a script at all!

- Be flashy! A bat and a lightsaber take the same amount of work to program, but the lightsaber will draw a lot more attention and interest.

- Slopes, surprisingly! Six years ago when I started, Unity was ill-equipped for 2D games. If you used the physics that Unity provided you'd have a really floaty character that wouldn't adhere to the slope when going downhill. There were a hundred different tutorials saying different things (use forces, use move position, use translation, etc). You can get rectangular collisions done in a day, but to do slopes took weeks. Meanwhile, games can actually get by fine without slopes. Most people won't even notice. Did you know the Phoenotopia flash game didn't have slopes? Neither does Hollow Knight or Rogue Legacy. You can save yourself a lot of work by avoiding slopes.

(big entities look weird on slopes. Bad slope!)

I could write enough little knowledge nuggets like this to fill a book! But I'd rather just make the next game. 

So… what IS next?

As mentioned previously, it's not Phoenotopia 2. Pirate and I are mostly just tossing some ideas back and forth right now. We'll go silent for a year (or two). Our next game's scope will be more modest in some ways, more ambitious in others. It will definitely be more smartly designed. (There will be a map!)

We'll announce it when it's ready for the public. It might be necessary for us to do a kickstarter. I've tried to avoid kickstarters having been burnt on quite a few myself and also because I worry that mismanaging a kickstarter would earn the ire of backers.

But I did keep this blog regularly updated for six years. So I've gained some confidence in my abilities to at least manage a kickstarter well.

Is it really the last Phoenotopia Blog update though?

Okay, not really. There is some news that I'll need to announce, and this blog is one of the game's main outreach channels. Here are the events that will cause me to update the blog:

Announcing the launch of the xbox/playstation ports when they're ready

If a physical edition of the game happens

If a new language is getting introduced into the game (Korean is a high possibility)

When we're ready to talk about our next game

If (BIG IF) we begin development on a Phoenotopia sequel. I do want to do a sequel one day if we have the means and the demand is there. 

Those updates will be more on a "when they happen" basis, rather than me reporting in every couple months.

Fan Art

As always, I'm very happy to see fanart of Phoenotopia. Major thanks again to Pimez for collecting all the artwork from the corners of the internet! Since this is the "last" blogpost, Sir Pimez can finally take a rest from collecting the fanart :P

ÆV made a series of pictures that tell a story. A Pooki is humanely sheared of its wool to create a hat. The Pooki is unharmed. Nice! Gotta love Gail’s expressions.

Amagoo Mazeru makes a stunning landscape shot of a full moon and shooting stars. It’s a sharp and clear vector art. I like the faint glow of the moon and the fire and the subtle gradient in the night sky. Very skillfully done!

Hah hah. I got a chuckle out of this one. I imagine this is how Gail's enemies see her by the end of the game. CaESar made this image based on TerminalMontage's famous youtube videos. Nailed it!

CrownStar drew two pictures of Gail. I'm a big player of JRPGs, so the first shot instantly reminded me of Persona 4's art style. (Hmmm... Phoeonotopia as a JRPG... there’s potential there...) Next, Birdy is shown carried off after her defeat. I really like Birdy's expression here - she just seems mildly uncomfortable.

There's a bit of a story behind the first image. As Firanka shares it, she wasn't able to defeat the Big Eye monster at the end of the flash game, so she believed a tall tale that what awaited after was a 6 armed Kobold boss. Hilarious! The second is a rendition of the lonely Anuri elder. A rare subject. The loneliness is portrayed well here. I feel lonely just looking at it!

Koo_chop draws the clash between Gail and Katash at the top of the towers. I really like this interpretation of the game's art style. It’s faithful to the in-game graphics. And the lighting, from the glow of Gail's bat, to Katash's sword, and the lightning in the background... Amazing!

Lime Hazard shows Gail with a salute pose. Very appropriate for this occasion. I also like how there's a slight tilt in the angle that Gail is portrayed. Those dynamic angles are always hard to get right, and Lime Hazard pulled it off very skillfully. See you next mission!

Lyoung0J with a digital painting of Gail posed sitting on a rock. I like how it almost seems like she was caught in a candid moment - she’s smiling, but also feeling self-conscious. Cute! The art style really pops, and I like how Gail is sporting what I call the old anime style nose. 

MyUesrNameIsSh*t with a sketch of Gail performing a skillful slingshot. I like how Gail is depicted with her tongue out in a mischievous manner, the way all mischievous people with slingshots do.

Niitsu Kentaro returns with a 2021 Happy New Year picture. That happened didn't it? A New Year... Gail's pose gave me a chuckle with how she seems to be waving the bat around as casually as one would wave hello. And "Phoenotopiyear"... Well said! One day we'll have our Phoenotopiyear...

Ochan Nu breaks all records with a stunning NINE pictures in one session :O

There's so many goodies here. My favorite would be the one with Gail staring intently at the screen - it's like she's looking directly at you. You almost feel uncomfortable.

Next, there's an Animal Crossing villager dressed as Gail and sporting her pink hair. It even looks like a house Gail would live in. Gail is a connoisseur of the arts and likes Mona Lisa. Yes :)

There are various comics of Gail pointing out Gail's weird food habits. A picture of Fran looking really cool, and even Gail rocking a bathing suit. (bathing suit image linked here in case NSFW). Wow!

Pimez didn't just collect the arts, he creates them as well! This one, which he aptly named 'The Year 175' is a depiction of when the dragons invaded the towers as told by an elderly Daean woman. Great pixeling skills! I got a good chuckle from the ice dragon leaving with its stuff slung over its shoulder.

Quo made a stunning picture of Gail playing the flute surrounded by the 5 musical notes and the Phoenix logo behind her. The theme seems to be "fire" and it works really well. Gail herself looks awesome depicted in her red suit - it's like she's leading a marching band!

Rai Asuha depicts Gail in the late game with her red suit, and night star bat, and holding a lamp. She looks ready for adventure! I really like the white outline here and Gail's poofy shoulders here - the art style feels reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics.

Seri also draws Gail bearing her late game equipment. Unique to Seri's drawing is how all of Gail's equipment is accessible from a pocket on her shirt. I also like how Gail is depicted with her lucky earrings - that accessory is often forgotten.

Treedude depicts Gail with a bat and wearing a funny smirk. She looks like she's ready to hurt someone!

Warotar returns with everyone's favorite Great Drake, Bubbles! It seems so happy to be featured!

I'm really grateful for all the fanart this game has received. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Closing Notes

Pirate drew a picture to mark the occasion. It shows Gail enjoying a hot chocolate with marshmallows and a pumpkin muffin. A rest well-earned...

Goodbye! Until next time!

[strawbeebo]

~♡ Shio, Shoyu, Miso ♡~ [1/3]

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! (She/Her) Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 1.9K

Genre: Fluff

PART 2 | PART 3

When you had first met Megumi, you honestly didn’t think much of him.

Now, that’s not to say you didn’t find him attractive, but a cute guy around your age coming into the shop with a few of his friends just really wasn’t something very noteworthy in your life. You had only been helping your parents around your family owned ramen shop for about a year or so, but that was long enough to know that the general demographic was people who wanted a tasty, warm meal without having to blow too much money. Needless to say, teenagers fit that demographic fairly well.

Your shop was well known in the area, but it was by no means fancy. In fact the building was a tad bit run down, you didn’t even have any decorations or anything hanging up on the walls and the entirety of it only seated maybe thirty people, so it was clear people didn’t frequent the place because of the ambiance. No, the reason you always seemed to have a steady stream of customers was that the food was simply so good that despite the lack of an enticing atmosphere or even many food options, people couldn’t help but be drawn to it. That mashed together with your friendly family and the decent prices made for a perfect little neighborhood place to eat. So again, when a group of three slightly noisy teenagers sat themselves down at one of the bar tables on the far side of the seating area, you didn’t really have any reason to bat an eye.

“Hey welcome guys!” You put on your usual cheery customer service voice as you filled their glasses with ice water, trying not to lean into any of their personal spaces. “Your options are salt, soy, or miso ramen, with or without beef and or pork. Do you need some time to think about it or do you think you’re ready to order now?”

Like you said, there weren’t many options.

“Oh, can I get soy?! Or maybe- hm, maybe I’ll have miso…”

“You’re tasteless, miso is the worst kind.”

“I bet you’ve never even tried it, Kugisaki!”

“They’re going to need a minute to think. That bit’s hard for them.”

The taller boy with dark hair and an apparently permanent scowl on his face groaned out in annoyance, his eyes only meeting yours for a moment before he turned to yell at the other two to lower their voices. You nodded with a smile, leaving them to decide and chuckling to yourself as you moved on to ask the customers at the other tables if they were doing ok.

“Ok! Excuse me- er….crap, what was her name again Fushiguro?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, usually you remember to ask the important stuff like that!”

The not-so-subtle arguing was enough to catch your attention as you made your way back over to the trio, your smile being a bit more genuine this time around in response to their odd yet funny dynamic.

“It’s (Y/N), sorry about that guys! So, what can I get for ya?”

The three of them listed off their orders and after you repeated them back for confirmation, you gave them a quick thumbs up before going back to the kitchen to put their orders in with your dad. Within a moment of your absence, Itadori was turning to Fushiguro with that excited puppy look that adorned his face almost 24/7.

“She’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”

Fushiguro’s eye twitched, but luckily Kugisaki was quick to butt in with an argument of ‘How come you’re only asking him what he thinks, huh?!’. It was a simple question, but what annoyed him was the added use of ‘kind of’. Itadori was extremely simple, so the thought that he only thought you were ‘kind of’ pretty irritated him because how could Fushiguro be here doing a double take just to get a better look at your features every time you spoke to them while Itadori just barely took note of it? It was uncharacteristic, but he couldn’t disagree. He could tell you definitely had a slight air of putting on a cheery showiness for the sake of good customer service, but either way, you were…cute, and he was insistent on leaving it at that without bothering to admit to it out loud.

“I hope you both know you’re paying for yourselves.” He interrupted, hoping their argument had moved on from their waitress so that he wouldn’t be asked about his thoughts on you again.

“Eh?! Since when were you so cheap!”

“Ok guys!”

The three of them jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, simultaneously turning to see you holding up a tray with three steaming bowls of ramen sat atop of it.

“Soy with beef, soy with pork..” You listed off while setting the bowls in front of the copper haired girl and the smiley boy respectively, “And miso with no topping.” You finished, eyes flicking up to meet the dark haired boys as you placed the final bowl in front of him. It was only for a moment, but you could have sworn your saw a speckle of pink dust his cheeks before he looked away from you with a short “Thanks.”.

“Mhm, no problem.” You hummed out, scanning your eyes around the restaurant to see if you were immediately needed elsewhere before deciding to continue and indulge your interest in the three, or more specifically, your interest in the cute boy with the black hair. “So… you guys are from that traditional religious high school, right?”

The pink haired one’s eyes lit up as he struggled to finish the noodles he was halfway through slurping up so that he could speak.

“Yeah, yeah! I guess our uniforms are a giveaway..”

You laughed, leaning your back against the empty seat that sat next to them at the bar. As if you needed any further confirmation, you could tell he was the energetic extrovert of the group.

“Yeah, you don’t really see many of them around. Though I’ve heard it’s kind of a hard school to get into.”

“Pfft, maybe for normal people, it was no sweat for us.” There was that copper haired girl again with a confident look on her face as she too stopped eating to interject, though you hardly took what she said in a bad way as she didn’t seem to mean any harm from it.

“That so? Guess I’ll have to call you guys next time I’m having trouble with my classes, I swear I can barely manage the workload I get.”

“Haha I feel that, I actually started school elsewhere but I just transferred a few months ago! Oh- I’m Itadori by the way! This is Kugisaki, and Fushiguro’s the sulking rude one!”

“Hey.” Fushiguro finally stopped his eavesdropping to join in, sending a glare Itadori’s way, but he just seemed to brush it off as if he’d been under his friends’ scrutiny plenty of times before. After a moment though he turned back to you, though as much as he wanted to say something to you, he didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t like Itadori or Kugisaki who could just strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, but while he turned over his conversational options in his head, you pushed away from where you had previously been leaning and gave a sheepish, apologetic smile that easily brought his attention away from his thoughts.

“No no you’re good- Sorry, I should be leavin’ you guys to eat anyway. Just call me over when you’re ready to pay or if you need anything, alright?” You spoke, your words being directed more towards who you now knew as ‘Fushiguro’, however it was his two friends who responded with an affirmation before going back to their meals.

Once again you were off to tend to other tables and do the other tidbits of your job, though this time your head was filled with questions galore. Did Jujutsu Tech students come into town often, or was this some special outing? What grades were the three of them in? And most importantly, you wondered if they would ever be coming back? You weren’t one to get flustered or form crushes easily, but you had to admit you were a bit taken by Fushiguro. He was cute, sure, but he had a cool, mature air about him that could make anyone be left wanting to know more about him, especially because most of the conversation you did have was with his friends and not him. However once again your mental flow was interrupted by Itadori waving you over, barely waiting for you to make your way by their side to start speaking while the three of them handed over their respective payments.

“That was crazy good, (Y/N), we’ll have to come by some time again if that’s ok!”

“It’s not like she’s the one making it, Itadori.”

“You realize that a restaurant’s whole goal is to get people to come back, right? Of course it’s ‘ok’..”

Despite Fushiguro’s matter-of-fact statement, his eyes still shifted to yours as if he secretly wanted to know if you wanted them to come back as well and the smile you gave him in return only solidified the fact that he wanted to return either way. Though of course he boiled that down to ‘The service was good and so was the food’, but part of him knew that was bullshit.

“I’d love to see you guys around again!” You said, collecting up their empty bowls as you spoke. “I work most weekends and some days after class so you should try to stop in while I’m here.”

“Hell yeah!” Itadori exclaimed as the three of them got up from their seats one after the other, Kugisaki and Itadori saying their goodbye’s as they pardoned their way through the tables and other customers to leave, though Fushiguro stayed behind for a moment, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke.

“…Sorry about them, it’s practically like wrangling preschoolers whenever we aren’t on du- er, in class.”

He knew the apology wasn’t necessary and that you didn’t seem all that bothered by either of his friends’ lively personalities, but he found himself feeling a bit…left out in the fact that he had yet to really speak to you. Why he even felt compelled to speak to you in the first place was a mystery, but he figured that was one question that didn’t really need an answer for right now.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You laughed, giving another smile as you tried your hardest to not act as fidgety as you were feeling on the inside. “I mean- I’ve got friends like that too so I-“

“Excuse me?”

A polite voice cut you off halfway through your sentence and you turned to see an older woman waving you over, clearly not wanting to be rude but wanting your attention nevertheless.

“Sorry-“

“You’re fine!” You sputtered out, maybe a bit too excited as you slowly backed away from him, “I’ll see you around if you guys stop by again, huh, Fushiguro?”

His eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised by that hopeful tone to your voice before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a bit of slightly shameful excitement tugging at his heart.

“Yeah, we’ll- I’ll see you around.”