#it’s still to this day the most ambitious thing i’ve ever attempted

[lunarxcity]

High Lords and High Jinks

- azriel x day court!reader

- synopsis: when rhys and helion try to set up their right hands and closest friends things don’t go according to plan…

—

I'm lost, correction I’m hopelessly lost. What kind of person even gets lost in a library? You see, I was tasked by my high lord and very ambitious boss Helion to find a book on firedrake lilies; they were native to the day court but suddenly went extinct about 1100 years ago, and they haven't been seen in Prythian since. Well, it seems to me that this book is even more elusive than the flower. Why does the high lord of night possess the only book in existence on this flower, only found in day might I add, and why does he keep it in his secret underground library, and why is this library an entire mountain? Helion couldn’t have sent someone else? A visit to the night court to grab a book is beneath my pay grade, but again these days I don't know what isn't.

I'm pretty sure I passed that shelf ages ago, I can’t even tell they all look the same. This library feels like a maze with books cascading down what seems to be a never-ending row of shelves that almost act like corridors, twisting and turning into a path that takes you deeper into the library, filled with even more towering shelves lined with more books. The very kind librarian sent me to the botany and herbal remedies section, but she failed to mention that the “section” is about half a floor. I have been looking for hours(I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve been trapped underground looking for this cauldron-dammed book all day).

Don’t get me wrong I love books, I spend half my time reading and the other half playing glorified babysitter to the most dramatic high lord that ever was and ever will be. The day court prides itself on our libraries. We have everything from books on the history of ancient creatures that once roamed this land, to banned cookbooks (they had to be permanently deshelved due to certain recipes that had a tendency to explode), and my personal favorite, the risqué romance novels, which are now found at every library in day due to the high lord and his royal aid having a penchant for the genre. Apparently the only book we don’t have is one on a day court flower of all things. Leave it up to Helion to send me to a whole other court with minimal directions and no explanation on why he needs this specific book. It feels like I have spent an eternity searching, I haven’t even found the right section on extinct plants, and I don't even know where I am anymore, mother save me-

My thoughts are cut off by a tug on my sleeve. I look up and see nothing. No one’s there. Interesting... I start to make my way down the shelves when I feel another tug. This one is much harder, I start falling forward and am immediately pulled backwards, which saves me from the fall. I try to find the culprit of this surprising attack, when I, again, feel a gentle tug at my sleeve. I look down and see this cloud of smoke? No, it’s not grey and opaque; it’s as black as ink and solid as if it is untouched by the light. It cuts through the air like a whip, fast and smooth.

I’ve read about these before, but shadows rarely tend to make themselves known. Rhysand’s spymaster is a shadowsinger is this one of his little spies? Are the shadows friendly? Are they sentient? The shadow stops its frantic swirling and looks at me; well, it feels like it’s looking at me as much as a shadow can. I reach out to touch it, and it darts away behind a shelf, seemingly spooked by my touch. A piece of shadow is still visible peaking out from behind the shelf, and I stand still looking at it. “Take as long as you need. Trust me, I will be here for a while.���

I continue searching the shelves, ignoring the shadow in an attempt to ease its skittishness. I look back to the shelf it was hiding behind and notice its absence. Without my knowledge, the shadow made its way back to me and has been circling my ankles. The whisp of shadow then starts swirling around me excitedly before making itself at home on my wrist.

Curious little thing it is, it’s almost like a pet. “Any reason you're pulling on my wrist, or are you just as dreadfully bored and hopeless as I am? I swear I should’ve made Helion get that book himself. He’s probably off partying with Rhys cauldron knows where.” The shadow responds by swirling around my wrist faster and begins to tug me forward. “Oh, so I'm just supposed to follow?” The shadow becomes almost alive at this commend and yanks me forward with a rough force. Tripping over my feet, I let the little shadow drag me through the identical-looking shelves. “Do you even know where you’re going? I’ve been here for hours and all I’ve managed to do is get lost and get manhandled by a shadow. I don't even know where you're taking me if or if you're supposed to be going around unsupervised, pulling strangers through the library. Oh my gods, I'm losing it. I'm talking to the shadow.” The shadow gives one harsh yank, and suddenly, everything goes black. The shadow threw me forward directly into a hard mass. “I find the shadows to be good company; they don’t have a penchant for annoyance, I can’t say the same for most people.”

The mass is talking? I step back and can now see that the mass is a person. Probably the most beautiful individual I have ever laid eyes upon. He has strong, dark features, the build of a warrior, and golden hazel eyes that feel as if they’re looking right through me. The cobalt siphons, the fighting leathers, and the wings tucked into his back tell me he must be an Illyrian. The shadows that seem to ooze from his very being tell me that he must be the one and only shadowsinger of the night court. He looks like night incarnate. His aura is dark, beautiful, and dangerous. I’m from the day court, I know how to appreciate the sun, but there’s something about him that has me reconsidering the allure of the moon.

I have only ever heard of him from Helion, the tales of Rhysand’s shadowsinger, the elusive spymaster that's one with the shadows and has repeatedly turned down Helion's offers to join him in his bed chambers. Helion will then sulk for the rest of the evening, leaving me to deal with cheering him up. I have never been so embarrassed or in awe. Have I been staring at him this whole time? I’m probably staring. Should I say something? I just caught sight of his wings; they span the entire width of the shelves. Oh, I'm most definitely staring.

“Pardon my frankness but what’s the spymaster of the night court doing in the botany section of the library? Don’t you have some super serious spy business to attend to?” He quirked his brow, seemingly amused by my question. “And what’s one of Helion's lackeys doing here looking for a book on firedrake lilies when they haven’t been seen on the coast of day in over a century?” I feel my face start to heat up. “I’m not Helion's lackey , and I will have you know I am much more than that you- wait… how did you know that they're found on the coast of day? You have my book!" Immediately correcting myself to match the levels of politeness and poise expected of a member of Helion's court, I respond in my politest tone, "May I please get it? My high lord is requesting it for research purposes” I swear if this shadowsinger does not give me this book I’ll-

“No can do. My high lord is also requesting this very book, and since this is his court, his request takes precedence.” He starts to smugly grin, that overgrown bat, I wish I could wipe that grin off his stupid, smug, handsome face, wait, no focus. “Well, I am an esteemed guest of this court, so out of pure courtesy, should I not receive this book? We can call it payment for your shadow almost tripping me on the way here.”

At this remark, his gaze shoots up to his shadows, his eyes narrow, and he scans the shadows until he finally finds on the culprit that dragged you here. He starts to squint at it menacingly, and it darts away from his orbit, right behind you, cowering from its master like a child that just received a scolding. “Me and my shadows will have a discussion about that later. They rarely leave my side. You must have coerced them with your day court charms.” He says offhandedly. “So you find me charming?” It slips from my tongue and I curse myself for spending most of my time with Helion. At this he goes silent. Blank stare. I have not met a courtier I couldn’t win over, but he is giving me nothing. He just meets my stare with his mildly annoyed gaze. A minute more of silence... I will not be ignored by this shadowsinger.

“I demand you hand me this book at once.” I stare him down. “There's that day court charm”, he sarcastically replied under his breath. This is a losing battle. I look back at the shadow, the shadow looks at me, and I whisper, “Can you get me the book, please? Your master appears to be in a brooding mood today and cannot extend his guest the courtesy of his cooperation.” The shadow gives a slight nod and darts out from behind you. “I can hear you, you know? The shadows won’t turn on me they are apart of my very being and follow my will.” He finally says. “Oh, you were meant to hear me, and who knows, maybe the shadows got tired of their master's lack of manners and chivalry.” The shadowsinger scowls and was about to reply when, to his complete and utter disbelief, the shadow comes back with the book in tow. I don’t even need the book anymore. The look on his face was enough satisfaction for me. The shadow, while helpful, is still mischievous, placing itself right in the middle of us.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?” he asks looking down at me with competition burning in his eyes. “Not even for a second.” I grin up at him meeting his eyes with just as much intensity. He gives a half smile back, a second passes, and you both lunge for the book.

Somewhere above two high lords are clinking their glasses doubled over in laughter over their little scheme. “My money is on her. I tried to spar with her once, and I was on the floor in less than 30 seconds with no idea how I got there.” Helion says while filling his glass with more wine. “Well, mine is on Azriel. He has years of Illyrian training, and is the most competitive person I know, he won’t lose a wrestling match over a book. He’s my spymaster for a reason.” Rhysand jokes. “Well your spymaster is oblivious to what’s right in front of him. Do you want to make a wager? I wager that she gets the book one way or another. Are you a betting man Rhys?” Helion mischievously asks. “I have known Azriel for centuries and I can’t see him losing a measly fight over a book. You have yourself a deal. Winner gets to make the loser do anything they want within reason.” Helion grins and reaches his hand out, “Deal.”

What started out as an intense sparring session eventually turned into a glorified game of tug-o-war. After exhausting themselves with physical combat, they now both had both hands on the book trying to tug it out of the other's grasp. Azriel's gloves had ended up on the floor, along with a few stray books knocked from their shelves, and an innocent chair that was caught in the fire. She looked up at him, visibly exhausted and asked, “Are you ready to give up now?” He looked back, equally exhausted, and responded, “Never.” Her hand started slipping as he tugged, causing her to grasp at the top of the book, right where his hand was. The minute their hands touched, his eyes went wide. He just stared with a kind of stillness that one only acquired through years of spying. He was deathly still and almost seemed to blend into his shadows which were erratic swirling all around the both of us.

Something flickered through his eyes. Fear? Acceptance? What could he be thinking of to elicit such a reaction? I looked down at his hands and saw the burn marks that were etched into his skin. I immediately jumped back, scared I triggered something. He had the same idea it seems, and dropped the book the same time I did. “I’m sorry-“ we both said at the same time. After a few seconds of silence and him just looking at me and analysing me? He took the first step forward and picked up the book. I thought he was about to take off when he looked at me and walked over and put it in my hands, not sparing a second glance to the book. “But your high lord-“I started. It was like a flip was switched. The brooding, stoic, smug demenour of the shadowsinger suddenly melted away to reveal a soft-spoken, kind, and shy individual. I probably looked visibly confused because he started speaking. “You’re right. I haven’t been very cooperative or courteous. You’re a guest of Rhys, and as a member of his inner circle, I haven’t been very welcoming. So, let’s start again. My name is Azriel. Here is the book that you require for your research. If that's all you're here for, it would be my honor to give you a proper tour of Velaris and formally welcome you to the night court.” He drops to one knee and bows to me and I swear my heart stops. What just happened?

“RHYS DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?” Cassian, who started watching halfway through screams. “Yes, quiet down-" “OUR BROTHER HAS FINALLY FOUND HIS MATE. LET'S BRING BOTH OF THEM UP HERE. I'M ABOUT TO CRY. LOOK AT ME, RHYSIE. DO YOU SEE TEARS? I NEVER-” Rhys gives Cassian a look of annoyance and says, “Well maybe he could've if only he didn’t insult or fight her first. We made it so easy, we tried to set her them up but no- ” Rhysand mutters under his breath. Helion starts cackling, "He will surely have his work cut out for him after that first impression. Also, pay up Rhys, she got the book."

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[saladscream]

And here's the second and last part. Because apparently my brain wasn't done with this silly ficlet. Again, huge thanks to @discessio for creating such inspiring artworks.

@melodymeddler@orliththedragon Here's the end of the ficlet. Thank you for your comments. I probably wouldn't have bothered writing/posting this second part if not for them. ❤️

Title: Opportunity (sequel to Misstep)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: mature

Warning: sappy, fluffy, unbetaed

Wordcount: 1873

Arthur blinks, confused.

One might say it’s a chronic affliction where the Prince is concerned. Confusion seemingly became his middle name the day Merlin became his manservant. But what’s confusing him at the moment is the too-close-for-comfort juxtaposition of two conflicting worlds that were never supposed to meet, much less overlap. Ever.

One minute Arthur has dreamMerlin under him, welcoming his princely ardours with wanton abandon and very encouraging noises, and the next, realMerlin is hovering mutely above him looking culpable as hell while Arthur’s cheek tingles with what feels suspiciously like a leftover imprint of lips.

Arthur is experiencing time and space disorientation like never before.

“What the…?”

“I can explain,” Merlin promises breathlessly, utterly flustered and clearly looking like he’ll never be able to explain anything in a million years. “You were having a nightmare.”

And for a very fraught heartbeat, Arthur considers saying “No I wasn’t” but then realises that he’d then have to be forthcoming about the real nature of his reprehensible dreams. So he decides now is the time for some cunningly strategic counteroffensive.

“Did you just kiss me?” he blurts out in disbelief.

Merlin makes his who-me face and, when that doesn’t work, proceeds to descend into a number of contradictory facial expressions that only serve to prove just how irredeemably guilty he is.

“And what on earth are you doing on my bed?” Arthur asks pointedly.

Now, it is common knowledge that Arthur loves riling up Merlin. He loves needling and prodding him and teasing all sorts of reactions and emotions out of him, ranging from mirth to sarcasm to annoyance all the way through to positive outrage and pig-headed disagreement. It’s even more entertaining than pranking Leon.

It is also common knowledge that Merlin is a master bullshitter. He will absolutely attempt to talk himself out of the direst and deepest of troubles with the most convoluted excuses and harebrained lies man has ever heard – with a mitigated success rate.

And right now, Arthur can’t wait to hear the kind of rubbish his inventive and very much cornered manservant is going to invent. The Gods only know what Merlin’s real motives were for sneaking up to Arthur’s bed in the bloody middle of the night and pecking Arthur’s cheek the way he did, but whatever those motives were, they’ll never be as laughably implausible as what the man will conjure up.

Arthur counts down to bullshit in his head.

He has but a split moment’s notice to brace himself when he sees an ominous Ooo-I’ve-got-an-idea expression flit across Merlin’s all-too-readable features.

“Eh… but this is all still a dream, my lord,” Merlin breathes, making his voice soft and low and distractingly sensual.

Oh for heaven’s sake. Merlin pretending to be a figment of Arthur’s imagination – that’s a new one. Where does he get all this crap?

Arthur resists cracking up. Barely.

“Really?” he says, almost encouragingly.

And Merlin, warming up to his own nonsense, gets ambitious. Always a reliable sign of dreadful things to come.

“Yesss… All a dream,” he nods slowly – aiming for dreamlike, but achieving awkward.

Oh but this is too good to pass up.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for this to be one of my dreams?” Arthur arches an eyebrow.

“Yesss. Overd… Um, what?”

“Yeah, the whole jacket, tunic, the trousers. You do sometimes keep the neckerchief, but you usually wear far less clothes in my dreams.”

“I do?”

Merlin’s dry gulp is indecently loud, and Arthur is enjoying this. Far too much. He pokes Merlin with a finger and pushes him back until he’s lying on his back by Arthur’s side on the bed. The phrase ‘knock him down with a feather’ has never been more fitting. But damn, the sight of Merlin’s raven head of hair on his pillow makes something shiver deliciously inside him.

“And you don’t talk so much,” Arthur piles on.

“Ah.”

“Well, it’s generally more moans and grunts. Sometimes roars if you’re feeling feisty and we’re going at it vigorously.”

“Uh-huhhh.”

“You’re a bit of an animal when you get going,” Arthur smiles indulgently. “A demanding animal.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur promises. “I’m always happy to provide the good hard pounding you cry for.”

Merlin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out – a first. He closes it with an audible click.

Meanwhile, Arthur is on an exhilarating roll.

“We don’t rattle the headboard every single time, mind you. Sometimes a sweet bit of languorous ravishing is all a man needs.”

And so, to sum up, Merlin is now lying on his back, gazing up at Arthur – sweating buckets and going slightly cross-eyed – seemingly seconds away from spontaneous combustion, and Arthur wonders why the idiot hasn’t admitted defeat and called an end to the charade yet. The prince knows that his manservant has a competitive streak a mile wide, but this is pushing it. The pretence seduction is going full swing and they should both be more careful before someone gets hurt. Arthur’s fingertips have loosened the front laces of Merlin’s tunic and are poised to slip inside and glide along an elusive collarbone – the one that Arthur has licked and kissed so many times in his dreams.

“This is still a dream, right?” Arthur taunts, his voice a little hoarse.

And once again, Merlin swallows and wets his lips – he does a lot of that and it’s not good for Arthur’s heart condition.

“Undoubtedly,” Merlin croaks. Arthur isn’t sure where he found enough spit to say such a long word. Gods but the man is infuriating.

The situation of Arthur’s feelings where Merlin is concerned is not a simple one. Arthur likes Merlin. Unthinkingly. Idiotically. Abysmally. And worse, he trusts him. He trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anything or anyone. He trusts Merlin on a level that’s as visceral as it is incomprehensible. The blood in his veins trusts Merlin. The marrow in his bones trusts Merlin. Every bloody inch of his carcass trusts Merlin.

And all of this wouldn’t be so damning if Arthur didn’t find the man to his taste (read, positively edible). That’s the real nail in the coffin of Arthur’s sex life. Merlin is bewitchingly attractive, but sadly, there’s no way Arthur will ever make a move on him. The prince is too scared of fraying the subtle bond between them and ruining their unique friendship.

What makes it so galling is that he’s pretty sure no one would bat an eyelid if he shagged his oddly alluring manservant.

His own father once seemed to imply that it would be nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you bedding your manservant?” the king had asked rather benignly, in between popping his last bit of cheese into his mouth and reaching for a pear in the fruit bowl. With the same detachment as if he’d been asking whether Arthur had seen the first foal of the season.

Arthur had swallowed sideways and coughed up a lung before answering a wheezy but determined, “No?”

The king had looked at him funny and carved into his pear, a faint frown on his brow that seemed to suggest there might be something slightly wrong with his son. Of all things.

And let’s not even mention Morgana or the knights. Arthur’s pretty sure they have a betting pool going on as to when and where the prince will use his droit de seigneur on his charming but gormless manservant.

But really. It’s not like that. Arthur cares about his best friend. Truly. Deeply. And somewhat madly. So much so that he’d rather limit himself to the company of his commiserating hand than disrupt the fine balance of their friendship. Arthur never quite loses sight of the fact that he’s Merlin’s master and that this tiny bit of administrative fluke will forever stand in the way of any frolicking. They’re simply not playing on a level field and no sort of carnal relationship they could invent for themselves would ever be fair to Merlin. So Arthur is resigned to lose out. It’s all right. As long as Merlin stays his friend, he’s willing to bear it.

But it doesn’t mean Arthur’s going to let this opportunity go to waste. It is too tempting a gift.

He brings a gentle hand to Merlin’s cheek. He’s actually dreamed of doing this. Of brushing his thumb over the sharp cheekbone. In his dreams, Merlin usually leans into the caress and smiles at him sleepily. And tonight, Arthur’s heart crashes against his ribs when he feels his friend lean into the touch. Not with the same abandon as dreamMerlin (for that one’s a bit of a flirtatious trollop), but with a shy hint of neediness that echoes painfully in Arthur. 

“Merlin?”

“What.” Merlin’s voice is but a breathless whisper.

“If this is a dream, I can do whatever I want without there being any sort of consequences, right?”

“Ye-es.” There’s an inkling of worry in Merlin’s blue gaze, bless him.

“So I can do this, and it won’t matter,” Arthur murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb gently over Merlin’s soft lips.

Beyond the parted lips Arthur sees the tip of Merlin’s pink tongue, and for an insane second he thinks his manservant is going to lick his thumb. Trouble is, if Merlin does that, Arthur is a goner. One of two things will happen: either Arthur comes on the spot (and let’s not forget that he was already halfway there when Merlin woke him up), or he kisses the living daylights out of Merlin and comes on the spot. Either way, it won’t be pretty or dignified and it certainly won’t reflect well on Arthur's stamina.

Fortunately, the tip of the little pink tongue remains wisely where it should and Arthur is saved a world of embarrassment. But damn, those lips are soft. Arthur watches his thumb rub ever-so-gently over Merlin’s heart-shaped mouth, and it’s just about the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“Are you going to admit that you’re a silly, reckless prat who’s in over his sizeable ears, or do I have to go all the way and shag some sense into you?”

End of the game.

Merlin winces, then sighs self-consciously. He gives Arthur that look. The contrite, I-need-to-do-what’s-right kind of look.

“I really thought you were having a nightmare,” he mutters by way of explanation.

“But I wasn’t.”

“No. You seemed to be having a good time.”

“I was.” With you, turniphead.

“Yeah.” Is it Arthur’s imagination or does Merlin seem a little bitter.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours,” Arthur advises.

“Obviously.” And now Merlin scowls, looking miffed.

Arthur can’t resist it. He ruffles the black hair with a tenderness that he seldom allows himself to display.

“Oh Merlin. What am I ever going to do with you?” He shakes his head fondly. He’s so ridiculously besotted with the man that it probably shows on his face by this point.

Merlin relaxes and smiles, and the dimples even make a furtive appearance. Then Arthur notices the cheeky glint in Merlin’s jewel-like eyes.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a bit of ravishing,” Merlin says, apropos of nothing. “If you could see your way clear to that.”

Oh well, when the man asks so nicely.

***the end (for real, dammit)***

[galemancer]

the dekarios folly

MAJOR BALDUR'S GATE 3 END GAME SPOILERS.

[ short monologue. — first person from gale's pov. — past and present tensing. — angst.]

In the pursuit of greatness, he lost who he was.

Godhood... is lonely.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50362192

---——-

Victory isn’t the first word that comes to mind at the mention of Baldur’s Gate.

We defeated the Netherbrain, but somehow victory is not the word I associate with it. There is no happiness, only temporary respite. There is no celebration. There is only defeat, because those memories are plagued by the loss of you.

I thought that you would be proud of me.

I thought that claiming this crown would prove worthy enough, man or god alike.

And yet, it seems I have fallen short...

Was I to forgo the opportunity to ascend to greatness? While I stand on the precipice of power, relinquish it? The gods refused to aid us no matter how often we cried, prayed, begged. A mortal with the power of a god to help mortal kind… I could have prevented the pain the Absolute wrought while the gods cowered.

‘Your hubris was your downfall once, Gale.’

Your voice resonates clearly despite all these years past, laden with hurt and fear. I can still see your face, stark as you attempted to keep me grounded. I couldn’t accept your inability to see the potential for good, and I wasn’t to be held back any longer.

I left you distraught, stunned on the docks as I departed. I remember the crease in your brow and the hurt in your eyes, the sparkle I’d fallen so deeply in love with dwindling. I remember my heart pulled back by your pleas, and I almost acquiesced. The restraint of your grip on my hand as I pulled away, silently begging me not to go.

But you let me.

And by the gods, I wish you hadn’t.

For some time after, I sought you in your adventures along the Sword Coast, Tara in tow. “Mr. Dekarios, is that you?” She’d call out, ears perked up in anticipation, saddened eyes turned hopeful as they followed the trails of my magic. She wished to talk to me, to scold me likely, and deservedly so.

In my absence she’d found a new companion, and there was no choice better than you. You were good for each other — two kind hearts to look after each other amidst the aftermath of it all.

She brought you to Waterdeep where you spent time with my mother. I could feel the hesitation in your voice as you spoke upon meeting her, the too familiar features sending you back to the dock. You told Morena the tragedy of her son whose hubris consumed him, under the guise of an ambitious wizard reaching his full potential. Even in my most grave mistakes you spoke of the good you saw in me.

I visited you in dreams, visions, every possible sign besides the blatant, and they remained unanswered. Could you see the glimmer of magic calling out to you by name? Was my existence in your life as this divine being one you wished to reject?

In your deafening silence, I found time to reflect on every decision leading here. The prodigal Wizard of Waterdeep spurned by Mystra herself. He who managed to piece together the Karsus Crown and in turn control the Karsite Weave, at the cost of losing the only real love he’s ever known.

It is sure enough to say that the realization of my own folly proved devastating.

Now every waking moment, I wait patiently for you to summon me, call me out by name so that I may appear in front of you. Waiting in an endless timescape is excruciatingly painful, and yet I continue to subject myself to its punishment. I remain hopeful that some day you would willingly be by my side again as my Chosen, and better yet, lover.

It’s... quiet without you. The pain of your noticeable absence never fails to astound me, and wracks my heart with immeasurable regret. I miss you quite terribly, and yet there is no one else to fault besides myself. Of all the things learnt in our time together, of all the things conquered… the only thing I failed to overcome was my own pride.

And now I’ve damned myself to an eternity without you.

[aroeddiediaz]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @cal-daisies-and-briars , @jesuiscenseedormir , @diazsdimples

How many works do you have on ao3?

27!

What's your total ao3 word count?

61,537

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently I’m pretty much exclusively a 9-1-1 writer, but in the past I wrote a lot of Flarrowverse (do they still call it that?). I also have published fics for Fantastic Beasts and a few anime (Given, Haikyuu, Saiki K). Given the number of Bnha wips i have locked away in the vault it’s amazing I don’t have anything published for that.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

(I am omitting all the Flarrowverse fics in my top 5 on the basis that they were written in high school and I’ve changed as a person, and they probably only beat out on the numbers due to being up for years longer)

1. Kabe-Do’s and Kabe-Don’ts (Given, 861 kudos)

2. You’re Not Special (Saiki K, 598 kudos)

3. How Eddie Learned To Stop Worrying And Embrace The Kitten Life (9-1-1, 327 kudos)

4. The Boy Formerly Known As Miracle (Haikyuu, 277 kudos)

5. Under The Hood (9-1-1, 275 kudos)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes!! As many as I can!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This probably has to be The Crimes of Queenie Goldstein, in which Queenie is put on trial for her actions during the war. Don’t @ me but Queenie turning traitor was bu far the most interesting part of the Crimes of Grindelwald (the only interesting thing, really). There could be such an interesting story between her and Tina if only JKR would let the movies out of her grasp.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Fuck, idk if I have a happiest ending fic, a lot of them tend to not have that much story arc. (A lot of established relationship fluff or smut lmao). I guess if I had to pick one it would probably be How Eddie Learned To Stop Worrying and Embrace The Kitten Life.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not since that one anti-olicity fic that I wrote while deep in the trenches of Flarrowverse discourse, which I totally deserved :/. I have regrets. Also I should probably orphan/delete that one if I haven’t already. In my defense, high school. I have learned.

Do you write smut?

Yea lol. I think my 9-1-1 stuff has been almost exclusively smut. Idk how it happened. (I do know how it happened smut is fun to write)

Craziest crossover?

I haven’t published any of my crossover fics :( none of them have been complete enough. I have many many unfinished RotBTD wips that have never seen the light of day though.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Who would steal my stuff? Lol

Have you ever had a fic translated?

One time someone offered to translate one of my fics into Russian but idk if that ever actually happened.

Have you co-written a fic before?

Nope

All time favorite ship?

Right now definitely Buddie! Percabeth holds a special place in my heart though <3

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ok. After the end of the Heroes of Olympus Series, but before Trials of Apollo was announced, I tried my own hand at writing the sequel that was clearly coming based on all the loose threads in the final book. It was going to be a Solangelo quest to save the Oracle of Delphi from Python, while Akhys tries to poison Percy to turn him into an evil god(?). Half the details have been lost and I desperately want to remember them, because I haven’t attempted anything nearly as cool or ambitious since then. The first 5 chapters are posted on my ao3 (Will Solace and the Oracle’s Cry) and I still think high school me had the most interesting characterization of Will out of everyone else on the internet at the time. Even if it is still very 2015.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at getting into the heads of different characters. Understanding their motives and weaknesses.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Editing.

Lmao I have a lot of weaknesses but I definitely struggle the most with trying to look back on or change things I’ve already written, even when it’s necessary.

Also my tendency to just drop fics if I stop working on them for too long. Rip to my wip graveyard.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

That’s a minefield I’m not willing to play in. Unless it’s Chinese. Very limited amounts of Chinese. Or like, a pet name or phrase that’s already ubiquitous in fandom so I’m not risking anything.

First fandom you wrote in?

Percy Jackson!! That Will Solace quest is the first thing I ever wrote! I definitely had a tendency to jump into the deep end with new hobbies lmao. Like my first ever cosplay that took me 3 years to complete.

Favorite fic you've written?

I think my favorite fic is always going to be the one I’m currently working on writing. But I am very proud of the silly little dramatic ironies in In Hindsight, which I wrote entirely over one long lunch the day after 7x04 broke me. Also I have to shoutout Teacher’s Pet, that one ruler spanking fic nobody ever reads because it’s Eddie/Ana lmao. I enjoyed putting in a bunch of tiny incompatibilities between them. So, uh, I guess my favorite thing in my own writing is dramatic irony?

Tagging: @aspecbuddie @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @lemonzestywrites @your-catfish-friend @inkmortal-trash389 @evanbegins s @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @coatedpanda16 @nicotinewrites @estheticpotaeto @babytrapperdiaz @snowviolettwhite @wikiangela

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where I give myself stupidly niche requests according to this marvelous card... or something. It's been three years dawg. (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

You dislike me, Princess Ivy? We each have our tastes, I suppose, but…this makes me sad.

It's a bit of an unorthodox take on "Take Me Instead" that's tailored to my tastes, but what is fanfiction if not an expression of a thing you like? Yeah, exactly.

I may have lost myself during the making of this fanfic. Got lost in the sauce, you could say. It's very verbose and static, and I lost sight of what this fic was originally going to be about. Or was it ever about anything that wasn't writing an interaction vaguely based on a bond conversation that amused me? I'm not sure of either.

This is probably super OOC because I already don't write Camilla in a canon-compliant way, so… watch out for that! It was fun to write anyway. God I love Kagetsu so much, he truly is babygirl-coded.

The title is a bit random. I honestly didn't have better that wasn't a title I saw used elsewhere, so… oops.

-----------

Rice Vinegar

Summary: Camilla has a discussion with Kagetsu after a very rough battle against the Corrupted - out of concern and misunderstanding. Self-sacrifice is a truly ugly thing.

Fandom: Fire Emblem Engage

Word Count: 2.8K words

AO3 version available here.

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo.

---------------

Camilla has never been a stranger to death and bodily harm – quite the opposite, really. When she was alive, she often was the one inflicting this harm onto others, either in self-defence or in a genuine attempt to take down her enemies. It was her father’s overly ambitious mistresses, it was a mindless shell of a soldier threatening harm on her brother, it was – they all died, or died again, to her hand, her axe, her wyvern. And she had no regret about it whatsoever.

Nothing and nobody was ever sacred, when she was alive. Even alliances could fickle and she’d draw blood again. She had grown up in an environment where it made it all too easy to justify violence for all sorts of reasons, selfish or selfless, with or without consequences. It never came to pass, thanks to her dear Corrin, but the fear was here until the end of her days.

Camilla has, however, never been a stranger to self-sacrifices – mostly from other people.

She gets it, in essence. She, too, felt unconditional love for her siblings and her children, knew when to risk in a hit to save a friend, heard all of the speeches – a brother sacrificing his health for his country, a sister always ready to help anyone out of the kindness of her heart, a neighbour country’s values of honour and solidarity at times trampling a need for self-preservation. Duties and passion, abnegation, causes worth losing a life for.

It’s a noble feeling, even if noble isn’t exactly… what she’s been known for. But she gets it, she truly does – the urge to sacrifice something, that is. Her own life, though? That’s another thing. How could she protect her siblings and fight for her kingdom if she was dead? Sacrificing someone else was fine, as long as it wasn’t someone she had to protect, including herself.

Evidently, the person to who she’s been assigned doesn’t see it the way she does.

She came to learn that when in the heat of battle. They were all surrounded by flows of the Corrupted, unrelenting, the distant cackle of Griss coming to her hears. Kagetsu himself was flanked by Prince Diamant and Princess Ivy, his own liege, sword drawn and ready to strike, while flames burned in the distance and smoke stung his eyes. Despite the fact he had just exhausted his power to engage with her, she could still feel the way his legs cramped, the twitch in his sword arm after using it for so long and, most of all, the pain of the one injury he had sustained.

She couldn’t communicate with him much in this context, so she could only worry about him and the way he wouldn’t ask Princess Ivy for a quick heal with the staff she carried on her back – while she was busy blasting away with Bolganone in hands, Diamant could keep the Corrupted away for long enough so Ivy could patch her retainer.

He then froze. An archer had his eyes set on Ivy. She had her eyes somewhere else. A bleeding wound adorned her right thigh.

She couldn’t quite see Kagetsu’s face with the smoke and the way she had to hover without obscuring his vision, but what she felt spoke more than enough for him. Adrenaline pulsed in his body, so did an urge to protect his friends, and no thought was spared to his own safety. Like a good retainer, he’d throw it all away for the sake of his liege, exchanging his life for hers.

No, don’t take Princess Ivy! She heard his heart cry. Take me instead!

He rushed ahead, what was left of his ponytail dangling in the wind, blood already flowing from his left leg yet leaving no limp behind.

Diamant’s voice acted before his body ever did.

“Kagetsu, wait—”

But it was too late. His blade had already struck the archer, and an arrow had already lodged itself in his abdomen.

It’s since then all crashed down on poor, poor Kagetsu, who got sternly recommended to keep the bed by a child maybe half his size. Unable to protest in his state, he was no match for the youthful resilience of Jean, doctor in becoming, with assistance from stubborn Steward Framme. It’d have been cute, if she didn’t feel concern and so much of Kagetsu’s shame through the bracelet he was still holding on to.

Even now, watching over him in bed, she feels the shame, watches him try to toss and turn, only for his teeth to grit together. It’s an upsetting thing, even with her experience; they’re friends, and friends don’t ever like seeing their friend suffer in any way.

“I don’t understand it,” he tells her, even if it comes off as thinking out loud.

“What don’t you understand?”

Through their bond, she can tell he is upset – anxious, even, which comes off as a foreign concept to someone like Kagetsu. Moral pain like this is something that clashes with his usual personality. Perhaps there are more layers to him than she’d have thought?

“I don’t understand why Princess Ivy and Prince Diamant were so… upset. It’s like I did something wrong and it’s hurt them!”

Ah, figures.

Camilla did easily read the anguish on Ivy’s face, yes. She could tell with one insisting gaze that she was going through a lot of emotions, and while she isn’t able to tell with perfect accuracy due to not being linked to her at the moment, she can hazard a very solid guess as to what she was thinking – if just because their experiences haven’t been so different and because Kagetsu, ever the social butterfly, sees his liege a lot of the time and chats her up into unveiling some information about herself.

Although, there may be very little guessing on her part required to begin with, when she had the aftermath of the seemingly senseless sacrifice play out before her very eyes.

As soon as Ivy had finished defeating the Corrupted obscuring her view and flanking her, she had glanced back at her retainer, who now had an arrow in his side – a feat rare enough to be cited, both for the very fact it wasn’t in an easier area to reach, and for it to have lodged itself between two ribs.

She was about to scream his name, from what Camilla could see near the bracelet; but her voice was caught in her throat before she could, right as Kagetsu folded like paper onto himself.

The staff she was clutching in her hands was on the verge of rupturing, Diamant was bleeding from what Camilla could guess to be a deep gash in his side, but he insisted on her using it on Kagetsu, by virtue of him still standing and the swordman not, spotting the arrival of Framme.

So Ivy used the remaining energy left in the staff on her retainer, the tool breaking into dust as his eyes fluttered back open, an extraordinary weight to his eyelids preventing them from opening fully. His leg wound was now doing better, but the arrow remained in his chest. Right as she asked him, almost without a breath, how he was doing, his sole answer was smiling.

“I’m glad you are fine, Princess Ivy,” he said before falling back asleep.

Ivy wasn’t handling it as well as one whose father and concubines led a life of debauchery and deadly power games should’ve, in Camilla’s eyes, but she understood it. Beruka and Selena were far more important to her than political games, at the end of the day. Associate a name, a voice and a personality to a body, and then you’re suddenly much more affected by their blood flowing from their wounds. Figures.

Still, she carried on nonetheless: she brought Kagetsu on top of her wyvern to safety, watched the battle end by Diamant’s side, asked about the way he limped, scrutinized his denial, asked Framme to look at it. Kept an eye on Kagetsu. Almost refused treatment to be bedside vigil. Discussed his stillness with Zelkov, who didn’t even bother hiding all sorts of concerns. Let Jean take a look at her wound, in silence. Remained there once it was bandaged. Still watched over Kagetsu, stoic anguish never vanishing.

“Why did he do such a thing?” She asked, thinking out loud, at long last. “Putting himself in harm’s way on purpose… How reckless of him.”

There was no surprise in her voice.

“I suppose he did so to protect you,”

There was also no surprise in Zelkov’s as he replied.

“I can defend myself just fine.”

Diamant stared at the scene in silence from where he sat, nearby, face distorted.

“As any retainer would do,” he commented, eyes squinted, nailed into the form of his colleague.

“Then may he never do that again,” she immediately retorted, clutching her arms even closer to the rest of her body. “I’d have survived that without issue. He didn’t need to kill himself over me.”

The protest wasn’t a matter of pride, or else, Zelkov might’ve commented on it.

“I’m afraid it might happen again in any upcoming battle,” he told her instead. “Kagetsu and I have the mission to serve and protect you.”

“Even at the cost of your life?”

“Yes, even if it might cost us our lives.”

“Absolutely repulsive.” She was on the verge of crying. “Is he going to be fine…?”

“He should be,” Framme chimed in, now that she was done with Diamant’s leg.

“Should be?”

Framme’s shoulders shot up, stiff.

“It’s, uh… never certain. But he really should be okay! Jean’s just gonna check him over once he can and he’ll be able to go on his merry way! After some rest, of course.”

“He better be fine after this is all said and done. I won’t let him throw his life away for… such pointless reasons! I can’t… lose anyone again. Not after Hortensia and I had to…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but judging by Zelkov and Diamant’s reactions, she didn’t need to.

Grief may’ve been the one thing linking the three of them together.

Once more, this doesn’t seem to be how Kagetsu views it – or perhaps he lacks knowledge of it. Losing blood and going through intense pain does tend to tinge someone’s memory or even bleach them away. Let her see how he conceives it, then.

“You didn’t do something wrong per say,” she starts explaining, for a second picturing a sister’s confusion at their brother’s upset. “But you did something that would bring pain to those who’re closest to you, dear.”

“In what way?” He sounds so genuinely confused, and in that moment, Camilla can only understand Ivy’s pain even further. “All I did was defend my friends. Princess Ivy could have been severely hurt.”

“What about Prince Diamant? I recall you being injured as well even before the arrow struck, Kagetsu.”

“He could have gotten hurt too.”

He ignores the second part entirely, then.

“But he was just as qualified as you were to take the enemy down before they could struck Princess Ivy.”

“I’m Princess Ivy’s retainer,” he chews back, even if it lacks strength (very much because his body has all sorts of protests against the exertion). “It’s my mission to keep her safe. It is not Prince Diamant’s mission.”

Camilla wants to ask if this could apply to Zelkov as well, only to bite back on it because asking seems to be a bit of pointless endeavour.”

“Then I suppose I can only hope to make you understand why they both were so upset, Kagetsu.”

His face lightens up.

“Oh, pray and tell! It sounds like very useful information to know.”

She shifts, crossing her arms and float-sitting on the empty chair next to the bed. Framme left a little while ago, but not without a promise to come back soon. It was something about a potion and reinforcement, if she recalls correctly, but this isn’t the focus of her thoughts.

“I too had retainers in my lifetime. They were both very dear to me, to a point where it pained me when they’d get hurt, especially on my behalf.” She sighs. “Of course, protecting one’s liege is the most important mission of a retainer, and both Princess Ivy and I understand that. Still, it didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilt for letting them get hurt on my behalf – or getting hurt at all, come to think of it.”

“You would feel… guilt?”

“Among all sorts of negative emotions, yes.”

“But then, why feel upset?”

“Because they were people who I cared deeply about, and like you, I didn’t like seeing my loved ones hurt in any way. I’ve killed for them, and I’d do it again even today.” He looks slightly horrified, which prompts her to let go a little of the bloodied details of a life long past gone. “Princess Ivy cares about you in a similar way, so even if you think you did good protecting her, she’s been upset to see you hurt – just like you’d have been would your positions have been inverted.”

“So, I caused Princess Ivy pain because she cares for me?”

“Indeed.”

He remains silent for a moment, leaning back into the pillow. He looks defeated.

“Then, if I had avoided that arrow… She would not have been hurt.”

This really isn’t what Camilla wanted him to conclude. What a stubborn soul.

Unfortunately, before she can disprove his flimsy theory, he continues.

“I wish my strange powers would not be so useless. If they were not, then perhaps… perhaps I could have seen it coming, and I could have protected Princess Ivy without upsetting her by getting hurt.”

“This isn’t what I wanted you to understand,” she replies. “Your powers may’ve stopped it from happening this time, but it wouldn’t fix the issue.”

His eyes, which are still slightly glazed over, grow wider, before his face hardens again.

“What would fix the problem, then, Camilla?”

He asks that with a flame in his eyes and no chill going down his spine – a far cry from a moment ago. The bright smile has always hidden a sharp blade underneath, and now, it’s pointed towards her, light lining its edge.

“Sometimes, you can’t avoid getting hurt, especially in combat. Ivy understands that as much as you do. However, what hurt wasn’t that you were in pain.” She marks a pause. “What hurt her was that you got hurt in her stead, when you were already hurt and actively hiding it from her. She blames herself for what happened, and combined with the concern it caused her, it was painful to go through. I’d even go as far as to say she’s wondering if you trust her.”

“Oh…”

The lack of bite tells her this is finally dawning on him.

“I know you tried to do good, and deep down, I know Ivy understands that as well. She only got concerned, but that’s why you can’t always jump in front of danger and take hits for other people. What if you had been more grievously injured than you thought? Or worse, what if the blow had been fatal?”

“I see… how that would cause a lot of bad things.”

“Ivy cares about you as a person, and by doing that, you hurt her by accident, just like she would if she got injured in front of you. It’s a fine line to walk, because while you had good intentions, most of the consequences were the complete opposite of what you wanted. You also need to think of your self-preservation, when you think of taking a hit for someone else.”

“I am starting to see…”

“I don’t expect you to learn all of this in one go. If your culture is anything like Hoshido’s, it promotes sacrifice for the sake of the greater good. At least, this is what I got from fighting alongside Hoshidians.”

“Oh, please tell me more! I am curious to know about-”

A knock on the door.

“It’ll have to wait until next time, I’m afraid. It seems like you’ve got a visitor.”

“Oh!” He lightens up. “Come on in, friend!”

The door opens to unveil a slightly less anxious Ivy: her shoulders are hanging lower, her eyebrows are unknitted, and her hands aren’t fiddling as much as they did when Framme was looking over her retainer.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, Kagetsu,” she says with a timid smile. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but I am alive, and soon enough, I will be full of vigour again!”

“I’m certain you will,” she chuckles, but the laugh disappears quickly. “There are things I want to discuss with you.”

She sits down, gaze unfaltering, at which point Camilla decides they deserve some privacy.

[bloviating-vy]

WIP and Fic Updates

HALLOOOOOOOOO!!

Since the results of the last finished poll indicated that some of you would be interested in both FIC updates as well as FIC teasers, here is me attempting to do just that. Of course, I was almost done writing it all up when TUMBLR (I despise this site) ate it. A;SLDKFJASK;LDFJAKSDFASDKFJSJAK

So, this one will be much abbreviated because I’m annoyed at my user error or this site’s error and this is killing very precious baby sleeping time. Also, this post will not refer to fics I haven’t updated in the last year so please consider those on permanent hiatus. 

Here they are in no discernible order:

WIPs

Timeless - This is the fic that is occupying a big majority of my thoughts. Though I haven’t started on the chapter itself, I have been thinking a lot about it and know some of the major beats. I will likely be working on this fic and bopping back and forth between this, No Matter How Far You Go, Untitled Soulmate Yoongi fic, and Soul on Fire. 

Indomitable - Realistically, I will not be working on this one until at least a few fics are out of my system. I know the major beats, where I want it to go, and even have some parts written. 

Home - Currently, I have no plans to add more to this fic, though I intend to come back when I have more ideas (as well as bandwidth).

No Matter How Far You Go - Since I’ve written myself into a corner with the previous two chapters, I have to figure out how to write myself out of it. I have some written already, but I am mostly marinating. 

Soul on Fire - Similarly, I have written myself into a corner here, too. I have some of the next chapter written, but I have set myself into a quandary of really liking Lucas and Chae-Yeong and I’m not looking forward to smashing and breaking things. Still marinating but occasionally, I henpeck at it.

Until All the Monsters Are Dead - I have no plans to write anything else in the near future. However, I do plan on finishing this at some point because I have finally figured out how to resolve a HUGE plot point. But I just have to have the motivation to finish it out. (And maybe one day, I will turn it into a proper novel.)

Unreleased Partial Fics

Only Human - The sequel to Super Human, I have a few chapters already written except I have no idea how to continue. Which is unfortunate. But when I finally figure out how to get myself out of a self-made hole, I will be back with exactly 6k fic, with each chapter being 500 words.

Untitled Soulmate Yoongi fic - I started this a year ago but it lay stagnant for a bit until I realized I wanted to make it a soulmate touch fic. (It originally was just a regular fic unrelated to soulmates in any shape/form.) This is likely the fic that I’m working on and thinking through the most at the moment. (Hence the poll.) 

Untitled MOB Supernatural Fic - I have super ambitious plans on Vampire!Yoongi x Fallen Angel!Seokjin x Fae Assassin!Reader with creche-mates Jimin and Taehyung. The opening starts off with "Kneel" and is inspired by the Haegeum police investigator Yoongi pics.

Additionally, I’m supposed to be editing a novel and writing another one. Oh, did I mention that I’m in Taiwan and have been here for about a month now and will be here another month? So, things are all up in the air and as;dlfksalkdfasklfsakdfasdkfj. 

Thanks for your patience. I try really hard to make sure I don’t leave too many unfinished fics and at least resolve some plot lines, but I guess I can no longer say that I always finish fics. I have a pretty good track record on finishing the vast majority though! I do firmly believe in the trust that readers place in writers and I take that responsibility very seriously. There are so many great stories and ways we can use our time. I am so ever grateful for my readers who give me a little bit of their hearts and allow my fictional characters to take up space in there. 

Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 28

Blunt - Emperor AU

“Absolutely not.” Varis frowned as Hero sulked in his seat. “I’ve told you before, it would reflect poorly on both of us if you did.” Once again they were fighting over Hero’s potential romantic prospects, and once again, Hero was being insanely stubborn about them.

“Every single suitor I’ve met so far, I can’t trust as far as I can throw them! I’ve met half this list during the different balls, festivals, senate meetings, state dinners and even the military meeting I’ve had to attend in the last six moons. I don’t feel comfortable with any of them. Certainly not comfortable enough to bed them, much less wed them.”

“There’s the other half of the list, your Radiance.” Varis was only growling in frustration, “have you considered using your echo to do more than just reject your suitors?”

“My echo warns me of danger, ill intentions, and lies. They aren’t interested in me either, they’re interested in my power and position. I refuse to have a loveless marriage, I want a partner I can trust.”

“Zenos keeps trying to kill you every time you train with him, how is that a sign of trust?”

“All he’s doing is trying to find a way to fight me at my full strength, when we’re not in the training room he’s docile.”

“Lazy.”

“Tired and bored. I’d rather have someone smart and a bit lazy than stupid and ambitious, Varis.”

The high legatus cringed a little, he couldn’t fault Hero for that one. Smart and Lazy were a wonderful combination, they were the ones who could make a system more efficient just so it let them do less work. Smart and ambitious people made things happen, they were the go-getters who ensured everything ran smoothly, much like Asahi was. The pair were becoming a very effective combination whenever they were left alone with a single problem to focus on. It’s the people who were both ambitious and incapable of rubbing together two brain cells to spark a single idea that were the real danger. All the desire to run the world and none of the critical thinking skills to do so.

Framed like that, he could understand why Hero preferred someone like Zenos who had no desire to control him, and instead would lounge about like a feral cat who’d found a warm spot until he found something to hunt. Zenos was, relatively speaking, safe. The sons of the political upper crust in Garlean society were raised in a society that was as cold and cut throat as his grandsire once was.

Still is, if the damned ascian was so intent on hanging around and haunting the palace after his supposed demise.

He inhaled slowly, counted to ten, and tried again. “If you court Zenos officially, the senate will rake me over the coals for trying to groom you into giving me the position of power I would have had if my grandsire had chosen me to succeed him. They will see it as a naked attempt at a bid for power from me, not a choice you made willfully with all due consideration.”

“So you need me to meet, flirt with, and reject literally every other option on the table before I’m allowed to court Zenos and Asahi openly.”

Finally, progress. “Yes, exactly.”

Hero growled softly, his face contorting into the most sour look Varis had ever seen the young Viera make. Still, he picked up the data pad before him and started going through the list of potential consorts and wives he had yet to reject. “Fine, but I’m not going to enjoy it. Mark my words.”

“Does anyone ever enjoy the prospect of an arranged marriage, your Radiance? I’m sure at least a dozen people on that list are only there because their parents put them there and they had no say in the matter. Your rejection would be a blessing to them.” He noticed one of the suitors and sighed, “she’s one of them actually. Her lover is actually on the palace guard, the lovely lady on the morning Library rotation.”

“Okay we’ll make that plan b then, I marry a lesbian and fuck your son on the side.” Varis wasn’t sure how to feel about the candid way Hero mentioned it, and it had to have shown on his face because the young Emperor smirked up at him. “You told me to give it all due consideration, so I’m considering.”

“Could you consider using less vulgar language when referring to my son, your radiance?”

“And miss you making angry dad faces at me? Never.”

[notwhelmedyet]

2022 Craft Project Roundup

it’s almost the end of 2022 and I had the thought - why not compile all my projects for the year in one post? It’d be fun (for me). So here we go!!

January - March: Ficbinding of my Taking Care Trilogy

A project I had been dreaming of even while I was writing these fics - I finally made fancy hand-bound copies of my longest fic series ever.

March: Straw Marquetry Panels

Big shoutout to Pipsqueak on the Renegade server who let me know that this shit exists, because it is the perfect intersection of things I like: natural materials, shiny things, geometric shapes, straw!. I discovered that straw marquetry is incredibly fiddly and time consuming and my initial thought of full ceilings or large murals was way overly ambitious. But I still love it, despite all it’s fiddliness

April - June: Various failed experiments with straw dyeing

There is a way to dye straw. It must exist. People sell dyed straw. But despite at least 10 attempts with fiber reactive and RIT dyes with various prep methods, I did not once succeed in getting dye to take to the outer shiny side of the straw. (I intended to make pink straw for the wedding guestbook later in this list)

May: Pieced cubical bulletin board covers

I decided to spice up my cubical a bit with some nice fabric covers over my bulletin boards, after a friend told me it was super easy to remove them & cover them with fabric via tacks. The green fabric I got turned out to be too short 🤦 so I got a jelly roll of rainbow batiks and pieced these funky covers together.

May - June : Pair of dyed historical-inspired tunics

Another project I’ve had in my head for years - using a medieval reenactment tunic tutorial to make my own shirts out of linen. Linen turns out to be fabulous to dye, unlike straw, which is evil. It does wrinkle the moment you look at it, but you just have to be chill with that.

June: First longstitch bookbinding

Inspired by the amazing works of queercore-curriculum I had decided to use a criss-cross longstitch for the wedding guestbook I planned to make for my friend A. This was my initial testbook, which I did on graph paper thinking I could use it as a journal. The graph paper turns out to be very thin and bad for journal writing but the book itself I am quite proud of :)

July: DIY alcohol stove (& knots!)

So in July I went to a natural building/strawbale construction workshop and I was going to need to cook for myself on the first day of camping - hence a brief research binge on alcohol stoves & how to DIY them. This is the simplest possible alcohol stove made out of a cat food can & while youtube will tell you to optimize by making it much more complicated it works fine for boiling water/making fancy curry mashed potatoes.

Also around this time I learned how to do several knots for having up my camping hammock, which isn’t exactly a craft but it’s not knot a craft ;)

July: Part of a house

oh fuck it, the house goes on the list. As part of the aforementioned workshop I (along with about 40 other people) assembled the strawbale walls for a family home. It was by far the most amazing experience I had in 2022. Like adult summer camp with more powertools & while learning skills I hope to someday turn upon a home of my own.

September: Pajama pant spectacular

In September I made two new pajama pants (one of rockin’ flannel and one of a nice purple shot cotton) and also repaired several old pairs (new elastic, added pockets, patched some holes etc). Yes I do patch pockets on pajamas, they’re not fashionable but they’re much more convenient for phone access while cooking.

October: Wedding Guestbook

A guestbook for my friend’s wedding, done in the style of that other longstitch book, but with more fancy things :3

November: Small notebook

Made a small notebook with the offcuts from the wedding guestbook for a friend gift exchange. I was very proud of this one; simple and sweet and finished in a single weekend (it helped that the pages were already deckled to size).

December: Paperboard desk organizer

I keep my downstairs stuff (pens, wallet, keys, etc) in a little basket downstairs so I don’t have to wander the house looking for them and I decided to finally make organizers for it so it wouldn’t be a melange of mess. Used scraps from my bookbinding supplies & they turned out pretty good considering I have 0 box making experience.

December: Tablet weaving/work lanyard

Another craft I’ve wanted to try for years: tablet weaving! I finally thought of an excuse one day at work while contemplating how much I hated my lanyard - it flipped around constantly and the keys made unending clanking noises when I walked. I might make a post on tablet weaving bc I am in love. I need to think of more excuses. It’s so good, so satisfying. It’s like the opposite of straw marquetry in terms of how much I enjoy it in the moment :p

[saladscream]

And here's the second and last part. Because apparently my brain wasn't done with this silly ficlet. Again, huge thanks to @discessio for creating such inspiring artworks.

@melodymeddler@orliththedragon Here's the end of the ficlet. Thank you for your comments. I probably wouldn't have bothered writing/posting this second part if not for them. ❤️

Title: Opportunity (sequel to Misstep)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: mature

Warning: sappy, fluffy, unbetaed

Wordcount: 1873

Arthur blinks, confused.

One might say it’s a chronic affliction where the Prince is concerned. Confusion seemingly became his middle name the day Merlin became his manservant. But what’s confusing him at the moment is the too-close-for-comfort juxtaposition of two conflicting worlds that were never supposed to meet, much less overlap. Ever.

One minute Arthur has dreamMerlin under him, welcoming his princely ardours with wanton abandon and very encouraging noises, and the next, realMerlin is hovering mutely above him looking culpable as hell while Arthur’s cheek tingles with what feels suspiciously like a leftover imprint of lips.

Arthur is experiencing time and space disorientation like never before.

“What the…?”

“I can explain,” Merlin promises breathlessly, utterly flustered and clearly looking like he’ll never be able to explain anything in a million years. “You were having a nightmare.”

And for a very fraught heartbeat, Arthur considers saying “No I wasn’t” but then realises that he’d then have to be forthcoming about the real nature of his reprehensible dreams. So he decides now is the time for some cunningly strategic counteroffensive.

“Did you just kiss me?” he blurts out in disbelief.

Merlin makes his who-me face and, when that doesn’t work, proceeds to descend into a number of contradictory facial expressions that only serve to prove just how irredeemably guilty he is.

“And what on earth are you doing on my bed?” Arthur asks pointedly.

Now, it is common knowledge that Arthur loves riling up Merlin. He loves needling and prodding him and teasing all sorts of reactions and emotions out of him, ranging from mirth to sarcasm to annoyance all the way through to positive outrage and pig-headed disagreement. It’s even more entertaining than pranking Leon.

It is also common knowledge that Merlin is a master bullshitter. He will absolutely attempt to talk himself out of the direst and deepest of troubles with the most convoluted excuses and harebrained lies man has ever heard – with a mitigated success rate.

And right now, Arthur can’t wait to hear the kind of rubbish his inventive and very much cornered manservant is going to invent. The Gods only know what Merlin’s real motives were for sneaking up to Arthur’s bed in the bloody middle of the night and pecking Arthur’s cheek the way he did, but whatever those motives were, they’ll never be as laughably implausible as what the man will conjure up.

Arthur counts down to bullshit in his head.

He has but a split moment’s notice to brace himself when he sees an ominous Ooo-I’ve-got-an-idea expression flit across Merlin’s all-too-readable features.

“Eh… but this is all still a dream, my lord,” Merlin breathes, making his voice soft and low and distractingly sensual.

Oh for heaven’s sake. Merlin pretending to be a figment of Arthur’s imagination – that’s a new one. Where does he get all this crap?

Arthur resists cracking up. Barely.

“Really?” he says, almost encouragingly.

And Merlin, warming up to his own nonsense, gets ambitious. Always a reliable sign of dreadful things to come.

“Yesss… All a dream,” he nods slowly – aiming for dreamlike, but achieving awkward.

Oh but this is too good to pass up.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for this to be one of my dreams?” Arthur arches an eyebrow.

“Yesss. Overd… Um, what?”

“Yeah, the whole jacket, tunic, the trousers. You do sometimes keep the neckerchief, but you usually wear far less clothes in my dreams.”

“I do?”

Merlin’s dry gulp is indecently loud, and Arthur is enjoying this. Far too much. He pokes Merlin with a finger and pushes him back until he’s lying on his back by Arthur’s side on the bed. The phrase ‘knock him down with a feather’ has never been more fitting. But damn, the sight of Merlin’s raven head of hair on his pillow makes something shiver deliciously inside him.

“And you don’t talk so much,” Arthur piles on.

“Ah.”

“Well, it’s generally more moans and grunts. Sometimes roars if you’re feeling feisty and we’re going at it vigorously.”

“Uh-huhhh.”

“You’re a bit of an animal when you get going,” Arthur smiles indulgently. “A demanding animal.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur promises. “I’m always happy to provide the good hard pounding you cry for.”

Merlin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out – a first. He closes it with an audible click.

Meanwhile, Arthur is on an exhilarating roll.

“We don’t rattle the headboard every single time, mind you. Sometimes a sweet bit of languorous ravishing is all a man needs.”

And so, to sum up, Merlin is now lying on his back, gazing up at Arthur – sweating buckets and going slightly cross-eyed – seemingly seconds away from spontaneous combustion, and Arthur wonders why the idiot hasn’t admitted defeat and called an end to the charade yet. The prince knows that his manservant has a competitive streak a mile wide, but this is pushing it. The pretence seduction is going full swing and they should both be more careful before someone gets hurt. Arthur’s fingertips have loosened the front laces of Merlin’s tunic and are poised to slip inside and glide along an elusive collarbone – the one that Arthur has licked and kissed so many times in his dreams.

“This is still a dream, right?” Arthur taunts, his voice a little hoarse.

And once again, Merlin swallows and wets his lips – he does a lot of that and it’s not good for Arthur’s heart condition.

“Undoubtedly,” Merlin croaks. Arthur isn’t sure where he found enough spit to say such a long word. Gods but the man is infuriating.

The situation of Arthur’s feelings where Merlin is concerned is not a simple one. Arthur likes Merlin. Unthinkingly. Idiotically. Abysmally. And worse, he trusts him. He trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anything or anyone. He trusts Merlin on a level that’s as visceral as it is incomprehensible. The blood in his veins trusts Merlin. The marrow in his bones trusts Merlin. Every bloody inch of his carcass trusts Merlin.

And all of this wouldn’t be so damning if Arthur didn’t find the man to his taste (read, positively edible). That’s the real nail in the coffin of Arthur’s sex life. Merlin is bewitchingly attractive, but sadly, there’s no way Arthur will ever make a move on him. The prince is too scared of fraying the subtle bond between them and ruining their unique friendship.

What makes it so galling is that he’s pretty sure no one would bat an eyelid if he shagged his oddly alluring manservant.

His own father once seemed to imply that it would be nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you bedding your manservant?” the king had asked rather benignly, in between popping his last bit of cheese into his mouth and reaching for a pear in the fruit bowl. With the same detachment as if he’d been asking whether Arthur had seen the first foal of the season.

Arthur had swallowed sideways and coughed up a lung before answering a wheezy but determined, “No?”

The king had looked at him funny and carved into his pear, a faint frown on his brow that seemed to suggest there might be something slightly wrong with his son. Of all things.

And let’s not even mention Morgana or the knights. Arthur’s pretty sure they have a betting pool going on as to when and where the prince will use his droit de seigneur on his charming but gormless manservant.

But really. It’s not like that. Arthur cares about his best friend. Truly. Deeply. And somewhat madly. So much so that he’d rather limit himself to the company of his commiserating hand than disrupt the fine balance of their friendship. Arthur never quite loses sight of the fact that he’s Merlin’s master and that this tiny bit of administrative fluke will forever stand in the way of any frolicking. They’re simply not playing on a level field and no sort of carnal relationship they could invent for themselves would ever be fair to Merlin. So Arthur is resigned to lose out. It’s all right. As long as Merlin stays his friend, he’s willing to bear it.

But it doesn’t mean Arthur’s going to let this opportunity go to waste. It is too tempting a gift.

He brings a gentle hand to Merlin’s cheek. He’s actually dreamed of doing this. Of brushing his thumb over the sharp cheekbone. In his dreams, Merlin usually leans into the caress and smiles at him sleepily. And tonight, Arthur’s heart crashes against his ribs when he feels his friend lean into the touch. Not with the same abandon as dreamMerlin (for that one’s a bit of a flirtatious trollop), but with a shy hint of neediness that echoes painfully in Arthur. 

“Merlin?”

“What.” Merlin’s voice is but a breathless whisper.

“If this is a dream, I can do whatever I want without there being any sort of consequences, right?”

“Ye-es.” There’s an inkling of worry in Merlin’s blue gaze, bless him.

“So I can do this, and it won’t matter,” Arthur murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb gently over Merlin’s soft lips.

Beyond the parted lips Arthur sees the tip of Merlin’s pink tongue, and for an insane second he thinks his manservant is going to lick his thumb. Trouble is, if Merlin does that, Arthur is a goner. One of two things will happen: either Arthur comes on the spot (and let’s not forget that he was already halfway there when Merlin woke him up), or he kisses the living daylights out of Merlin and comes on the spot. Either way, it won’t be pretty or dignified and it certainly won’t reflect well on Arthur's stamina.

Fortunately, the tip of the little pink tongue remains wisely where it should and Arthur is saved a world of embarrassment. But damn, those lips are soft. Arthur watches his thumb rub ever-so-gently over Merlin’s heart-shaped mouth, and it’s just about the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“Are you going to admit that you’re a silly, reckless prat who’s in over his sizeable ears, or do I have to go all the way and shag some sense into you?”

End of the game.

Merlin winces, then sighs self-consciously. He gives Arthur that look. The contrite, I-need-to-do-what’s-right kind of look.

“I really thought you were having a nightmare,” he mutters by way of explanation.

“But I wasn’t.”

“No. You seemed to be having a good time.”

“I was.” With you, turniphead.

“Yeah.” Is it Arthur’s imagination or does Merlin seem a little bitter.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours,” Arthur advises.

“Obviously.” And now Merlin scowls, looking miffed.

Arthur can’t resist it. He ruffles the black hair with a tenderness that he seldom allows himself to display.

“Oh Merlin. What am I ever going to do with you?” He shakes his head fondly. He’s so ridiculously besotted with the man that it probably shows on his face by this point.

Merlin relaxes and smiles, and the dimples even make a furtive appearance. Then Arthur notices the cheeky glint in Merlin’s jewel-like eyes.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a bit of ravishing,” Merlin says, apropos of nothing. “If you could see your way clear to that.”

Oh well, when the man asks so nicely.

***the end (for real, dammit)***

“Let’s have you ‘Lazy-Daisy’”

[ghostzzy]

after spending the day rereading my first novel for the first time since i wrote it, i have a message for 16-year-old izzy:

you did great.

[saladscream]

And here's the second and last part. Because apparently my brain wasn't done with this silly ficlet. Again, huge thanks to @discessio for creating such inspiring artworks.

@melodymeddler @orliththedragon Here's the end of the ficlet. Thank you for your comments. I probably wouldn't have bothered writing/posting this second part if not for them. ❤️

Title: Opportunity (sequel to Misstep)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: mature

Warning: sappy, fluffy, unbetaed

Wordcount: 1873

Arthur blinks, confused.

One might say it’s a chronic affliction where the Prince is concerned. Confusion seemingly became his middle name the day Merlin became his manservant. But what’s confusing him at the moment is the too-close-for-comfort juxtaposition of two conflicting worlds that were never supposed to meet, much less overlap. Ever.

One minute Arthur has dreamMerlin under him, welcoming his princely ardours with wanton abandon and very encouraging noises, and the next, realMerlin is hovering mutely above him looking culpable as hell while Arthur’s cheek tingles with what feels suspiciously like a leftover imprint of lips.

Arthur is experiencing time and space disorientation like never before.

“What the…?”

“I can explain,” Merlin promises breathlessly, utterly flustered and clearly looking like he’ll never be able to explain anything in a million years. “You were having a nightmare.”

And for a very fraught heartbeat, Arthur considers saying “No I wasn’t” but then realises that he’d then have to be forthcoming about the real nature of his reprehensible dreams. So he decides now is the time for some cunningly strategic counteroffensive.

“Did you just kiss me?” he blurts out in disbelief.

Merlin makes his who-me face and, when that doesn’t work, proceeds to descend into a number of contradictory facial expressions that only serve to prove just how irredeemably guilty he is.

“And what on earth are you doing on my bed?” Arthur asks pointedly.

Now, it is common knowledge that Arthur loves riling up Merlin. He loves needling and prodding him and teasing all sorts of reactions and emotions out of him, ranging from mirth to sarcasm to annoyance all the way through to positive outrage and pig-headed disagreement. It’s even more entertaining than pranking Leon.

It is also common knowledge that Merlin is a master bullshitter. He will absolutely attempt to talk himself out of the direst and deepest of troubles with the most convoluted excuses and harebrained lies man has ever heard – with a mitigated success rate.

And right now, Arthur can’t wait to hear the kind of rubbish his inventive and very much cornered manservant is going to invent. The Gods only know what Merlin’s real motives were for sneaking up to Arthur’s bed in the bloody middle of the night and pecking Arthur’s cheek the way he did, but whatever those motives were, they’ll never be as laughably implausible as what the man will conjure up.

Arthur counts down to bullshit in his head.

He has but a split moment’s notice to brace himself when he sees an ominous Ooo-I’ve-got-an-idea expression flit across Merlin’s all-too-readable features.

“Eh… but this is all still a dream, my lord,” Merlin breathes, making his voice soft and low and distractingly sensual.

Oh for heaven’s sake. Merlin pretending to be a figment of Arthur’s imagination – that’s a new one. Where does he get all this crap?

Arthur resists cracking up. Barely.

“Really?” he says, almost encouragingly.

And Merlin, warming up to his own nonsense, gets ambitious. Always a reliable sign of dreadful things to come.

“Yesss… All a dream,” he nods slowly – aiming for dreamlike, but achieving awkward.

Oh but this is too good to pass up.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for this to be one of my dreams?” Arthur arches an eyebrow.

“Yesss. Overd… Um, what?”

“Yeah, the whole jacket, tunic, the trousers. You do sometimes keep the neckerchief, but you usually wear far less clothes in my dreams.”

“I do?”

Merlin’s dry gulp is indecently loud, and Arthur is enjoying this. Far too much. He pokes Merlin with a finger and pushes him back until he’s lying on his back by Arthur’s side on the bed. The phrase ‘knock him down with a feather’ has never been more fitting. But damn, the sight of Merlin’s raven head of hair on his pillow makes something shiver deliciously inside him.

“And you don’t talk so much,” Arthur piles on.

“Ah.”

“Well, it’s generally more moans and grunts. Sometimes roars if you’re feeling feisty and we’re going at it vigorously.”

“Uh-huhhh.”

“You’re a bit of an animal when you get going,” Arthur smiles indulgently. “A demanding animal.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur promises. “I’m always happy to provide the good hard pounding you cry for.”

Merlin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out – a first. He closes it with an audible click.

Meanwhile, Arthur is on an exhilarating roll.

“We don’t rattle the headboard every single time, mind you. Sometimes a sweet bit of languorous ravishing is all a man needs.”

And so, to sum up, Merlin is now lying on his back, gazing up at Arthur – sweating buckets and going slightly cross-eyed – seemingly seconds away from spontaneous combustion, and Arthur wonders why the idiot hasn’t admitted defeat and called an end to the charade yet. The prince knows that his manservant has a competitive streak a mile wide, but this is pushing it. The pretence seduction is going full swing and they should both be more careful before someone gets hurt. Arthur’s fingertips have loosened the front laces of Merlin’s tunic and are poised to slip inside and glide along an elusive collarbone – the one that Arthur has licked and kissed so many times in his dreams.

“This is still a dream, right?” Arthur taunts, his voice a little hoarse.

And once again, Merlin swallows and wets his lips – he does a lot of that and it’s not good for Arthur’s heart condition.

“Undoubtedly,” Merlin croaks. Arthur isn’t sure where he found enough spit to say such a long word. Gods but the man is infuriating.

The situation of Arthur’s feelings where Merlin is concerned is not a simple one. Arthur likes Merlin. Unthinkingly. Idiotically. Abysmally. And worse, he trusts him. He trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anything or anyone. He trusts Merlin on a level that’s as visceral as it is incomprehensible. The blood in his veins trusts Merlin. The marrow in his bones trusts Merlin. Every bloody inch of his carcass trusts Merlin.

And all of this wouldn’t be so damning if Arthur didn’t find the man to his taste (read, positively edible). That’s the real nail in the coffin of Arthur’s sex life. Merlin is bewitchingly attractive, but sadly, there’s no way Arthur will ever make a move on him. The prince is too scared of fraying the subtle bond between them and ruining their unique friendship.

What makes it so galling is that he’s pretty sure no one would bat an eyelid if he shagged his oddly alluring manservant.

His own father once seemed to imply that it would be nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you bedding your manservant?” the king had asked rather benignly, in between popping his last bit of cheese into his mouth and reaching for a pear in the fruit bowl. With the same detachment as if he’d been asking whether Arthur had seen the first foal of the season.

Arthur had swallowed sideways and coughed up a lung before answering a wheezy but determined, “No?”

The king had looked at him funny and carved into his pear, a faint frown on his brow that seemed to suggest there might be something slightly wrong with his son. Of all things.

And let’s not even mention Morgana or the knights. Arthur’s pretty sure they have a betting pool going on as to when and where the prince will use his droit de seigneur on his charming but gormless manservant.

But really. It’s not like that. Arthur cares about his best friend. Truly. Deeply. And somewhat madly. So much so that he’d rather limit himself to the company of his commiserating hand than disrupt the fine balance of their friendship. Arthur never quite loses sight of the fact that he’s Merlin’s master and that this tiny bit of administrative fluke will forever stand in the way of any frolicking. They’re simply not playing on a level field and no sort of carnal relationship they could invent for themselves would ever be fair to Merlin. So Arthur is resigned to lose out. It’s all right. As long as Merlin stays his friend, he’s willing to bear it.

But it doesn’t mean Arthur’s going to let this opportunity go to waste. It is too tempting a gift.

He brings a gentle hand to Merlin’s cheek. He’s actually dreamed of doing this. Of brushing his thumb over the sharp cheekbone. In his dreams, Merlin usually leans into the caress and smiles at him sleepily. And tonight, Arthur’s heart crashes against his ribs when he feels his friend lean into the touch. Not with the same abandon as dreamMerlin (for that one’s a bit of a flirtatious trollop), but with a shy hint of neediness that echoes painfully in Arthur. 

“Merlin?”

“What.” Merlin’s voice is but a breathless whisper.

“If this is a dream, I can do whatever I want without there being any sort of consequences, right?”

“Ye-es.” There’s an inkling of worry in Merlin’s blue gaze, bless him.

“So I can do this, and it won’t matter,” Arthur murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb gently over Merlin’s soft lips.

Beyond the parted lips Arthur sees the tip of Merlin’s pink tongue, and for an insane second he thinks his manservant is going to lick his thumb. Trouble is, if Merlin does that, Arthur is a goner. One of two things will happen: either Arthur comes on the spot (and let’s not forget that he was already halfway there when Merlin woke him up), or he kisses the living daylights out of Merlin and comes on the spot. Either way, it won’t be pretty or dignified and it certainly won’t reflect well on Arthur's stamina.

Fortunately, the tip of the little pink tongue remains wisely where it should and Arthur is saved a world of embarrassment. But damn, those lips are soft. Arthur watches his thumb rub ever-so-gently over Merlin’s heart-shaped mouth, and it’s just about the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“Are you going to admit that you’re a silly, reckless prat who’s in over his sizeable ears, or do I have to go all the way and shag some sense into you?”

End of the game.

Merlin winces, then sighs self-consciously. He gives Arthur that look. The contrite, I-need-to-do-what’s-right kind of look.

“I really thought you were having a nightmare,” he mutters by way of explanation.

“But I wasn’t.”

“No. You seemed to be having a good time.”

“I was.” With you, turniphead.

“Yeah.” Is it Arthur’s imagination or does Merlin seem a little bitter.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours,” Arthur advises.

“Obviously.” And now Merlin scowls, looking miffed.

Arthur can’t resist it. He ruffles the black hair with a tenderness that he seldom allows himself to display.

“Oh Merlin. What am I ever going to do with you?” He shakes his head fondly. He’s so ridiculously besotted with the man that it probably shows on his face by this point.

Merlin relaxes and smiles, and the dimples even make a furtive appearance. Then Arthur notices the cheeky glint in Merlin’s jewel-like eyes.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a bit of ravishing,” Merlin says, apropos of nothing. “If you could see your way clear to that.”

Oh well, when the man asks so nicely.

***the end (for real, dammit)***

This was too good. Couldn't resist. Here's the short nonsense fluffy ficlet this artwork inspired. Thank you @discessio !! ❤️

Title: Misstep (crap title, I know)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Warning: sappy, fluffy, cliffhanger, unbetaed

Wordcount: 1377

The first time it happens is by complete accident, Merlin can swear it on his mother’s life. Well, it’s an accident that turns into an opportunity, really. Let’s say it’s half-accident, half-neediness. And let’s keep Merlin’s mother out of it.

What’s for certain is that the first time it happens, it’s definitely not on purpose. Merlin doesn’t engineer it. He simply reacts instinctively and freezes the course of time in order to avoid the loud, inevitable clatter of the falling tray. Arthur’s still fast asleep and Merlin knows the prince’s sleep has been a little elusive over the past few weeks, so really he stops time for all the right reasons.

He picks the suspended goblet, plate and cutlery from their arrested tumble, mid-air. Accident averted. Gaius wouldn’t be happy with this, but again, at no point did Merlin actually think it through. He merely reacted. There’s a surreptitious lick of unease down his back as he realises he is somewhat playing with fire here.

But Merlin wants to concentrate on the positive outcome – Arthur’s uninterrupted and much-needed sleep.

In a rare show of self-indulgence, Merlin stands by the bed for a moment, gazing at his prince. His sweet, brave, arrogant prince who’s such an insufferable clotpole but also the most important person in Merlin’s world. The most aggravatingly beloved man in Merlin’s guarded heart. The most forbidden idol in Merlin’s unmentionable fantasies.

Merlin blinks himself out of his nebulous and slightly lascivious thoughts.

And finally realises he hasn’t unfrozen time, lost in contemplation of the darling bane of his existence as he was. It’s just that Arthur is so pretty when he’s asleep, all tousled blonde hair and soft lips and peaceful features. It’s such a rare occurrence to be able to look upon him being so care-free and utterly safe.

Merlin releases the flow of time.

And immediately wishes he’d used the suspended pause to stroke Arthur’s hair.

Merlin gets to touch Arthur in many rather intimate ways throughout the day, but he’s never been at liberty to simply indulge in a fond ruffle or a gentle caress – for obvious reasons. He’s always wished he could. He can’t help it. He’s a tactile kind of person, though it may not seem like it. To him, touch is a crucial, under-used language that conveys love and affection like nothing else can. And he finds there’s never enough of it in his life. He’s made his peace with it. It is what it is.

But he wishes he’d thought of reaching out and stroking Arthur’s hair while time was frozen. No one would’ve been the wiser, yet it would’ve meant so much to him.

Merlin presses his lips into a resigned line and resumes his morning duties, delivering the offending tray safely to the table.

And that’s the first time it happens. Complete accident. Missed opportunity. Bittersweet musings.

The second time it happens… Merlin’s again caught wrong-footed. The knife that’s just slipped off the plate is about to stab through his boot, and so everything stops for the almighty warlock. Merlin huffs an annoyed breath, puts down the plate and grabs the suspended knife. The damn thing is sharp and heavy as hell, and Merlin scowls at the hole it would’ve punctured into his boot – and possibly his foot.

And then he realises he’s done it again. Caught Arthur in the bubble of frozen time. He should feel terrible – and he does – but he also feels something else. Like, just a frisson of euphoria. A guilty thrill of elation at being given a second chance.

His hand shakes just a tiny bit as he places the forgotten knife on the bedside table, but he then takes a steadying breath and turns to the bed’s occupant.

The prince is arrested in slumber, slack-jawed and slightly drooling on the pillow, and alright, he looks more ridiculous than dashing right now, but it is this very vulnerability that makes the knight so absurdly dear to Merlin.

Merlin reaches out and his fingertips brush, feather-soft, over the tangled blonde mess of hair. It feels wonderful. Intimate. Illicit. There are shameless butterflies dancing in Merlin’s belly as his fingers caress their treasure. He pushes an errant strand this way and then that way in search of ultimate perfection, as he probably would if Arthur were his. Something in him trembles at the forward gesture.

But enough with these stollen familiarities. Merlin shakes himself out of his tender thoughts and releases time.

And Arthur gives an undignified snore.

The third time it happens… Well, much to Merlin’s own unease, the third time is deliberate. Nothing to startle him, no impending jarring threat, no excuse whatsoever. It’s just that… today was a close call and Merlin truly thought he’d failed his destiny and his prince, and Arthur looked so deathly pale as the poison crawled through his veins, and so now Merlin needs a bit of quiet time alone with the unwitting other half of his soul.

He just wants to look at him. He won’t touch Arthur, he promises himself sternly. It feels too terribly good to touch him – as well as a little wrong.

And so he freezes the course of time, and it feels odd and strained because he seldom does this voluntarily. His magic itches and writhes in discomfort but obeys, and now he can look his fill.

Arthur is still awfully pale and there’s a sheen of sweat dewing his face and throat. One that spreads to his shoulders and upper chest – and Merlin isn’t strictly touching him, just lifting a corner of the covers to check that the bandage hasn’t slipped. But Arthur’s alive. He’s safe now. And Gods, Merlin wishes he could touch him, if only to ground himself and chase the residual fear that lurks within his battered little heart. Just a caressing sweep of his thumb over the crook of the shoulder would do it. A reassurance. An offering. A blessing.

But Merlin has promised himself he wouldn’t touch and he wants to prove to himself that he has a measure of self-control and a modicum of decency. That he’s not one of those sorcerers who abuse their powers. The cover flops back down and Arthur is left to recover in peace.

The fourth time... Alas, there’s no good excuse for the fourth time. It’s the middle of the night and there’s something dreadfully fragile and needy to Arthur’s moans as he struggles with a nightmare. The prince’s chest is bare and heaving, his hands clutching and clenching, his whole sturdy frame restless in the throes of a distressing dream. And truly, Merlin has no other choice. He can’t just stand there and watch and do nothing. He kneels on the bed behind Arthur and leans over him, bracing a light hand on Arthur’s hip while the other rests on the headboard.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs very gently. “You’re all right, Arthur.” And before he can honestly help himself, he’s brushing a soft, tender, timid kiss over Arthur’s damp cheek.

He’s so anxious to make all the bad things go away for his beloved prince. So selflessly ready to do anything and everything to spare his beloved prince any ache of any kind. So damn in love with the clotpole and so unable to exorcise it any other way. The gentle rub of his lips over Arthur’s cheek feels pure and wanton, and tremors of pitiful bliss shimmer though him, miserable wretch that he is.

Which is when Arthur shifts beneath him, tilting his head up for more.

It is at this precise juncture that Merlin, this untold genius, becomes aware of two things.

First, it is not a nightmare. The dream is of a completely different nature, and it is not anguish that strains at Arthur’s features and rocks his body, it is lustful hunger – as the grunt of pleasure confirms.

Second, Merlin forgot to suspend the course of time. He is therefore kneeling over Arthur – pressing a kiss to the man’s cheek, for fuck’s sake – while the prince is having a very natural, very private and very pleasant dream. In real time.

Arthur opens blurry, confused eyes, gazing straight up into Merlin’s blinking, confounded ones.

Now this should be fun to explain.

*the end*

[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 

[obae-me]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize. 

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide. 

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness. 

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal. 

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to. 

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you. 

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn. 

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting. 

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was. 

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something? 

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled. 

“Once you… … …  it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!” 

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze. 

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow. 

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying. 

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!” 

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed. 

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach. 

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated. 

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group. 

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either. 

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible. 

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed. 

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?” 

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room. 

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long. 

“They’re awake!” 

“Thank heavens…” 

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!” 

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place. 

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.” 

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…? 

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.” 

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room. 

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly. 

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.” 

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?” 

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?” 

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone. 

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep. 

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming. 

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words. 

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body. 

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.” 

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured. 

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on!  Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement. 

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again. 

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be. 

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.” 

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done. 

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…” 

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?” 

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…” His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.” 

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…” 

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.” 

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up. 

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?” 

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it. 

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying. 

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.” 

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained. 

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position. 

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.” 

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?” 

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.” 

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?” 

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all  skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.” 

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.” 

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.” 

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours. 

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.” 

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed. 

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head. 

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.” 

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?” 

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?” 

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!” 

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.” 

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!” 

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good. 

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side. 

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.” 

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.” 

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.” 

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.” 

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall. 

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet. 

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat. 

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in. 

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking. 

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm���ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!” 

“ ‘s too...hot.” 

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?” 

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…” 

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep. 

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears. 

“They shouldn’t be down here!” 

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.” 

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.” 

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape. 

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back. 

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?” 

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.” 

“Don’t underestimate him.” 

“Should we wake them up?” 

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.” 

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him. 

“Beel, you alright?” 

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered. 

“In a--” 

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!” 

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel. 

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked. 

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room. 

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?” 

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.” 

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped. 

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.” 

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders. 

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.” 

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you. 

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered. 

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.” 

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.” 

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.” 

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony. 

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Beel--” 

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal. 

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…” 

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.” 

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry. 

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips. 

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.” 

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.” 

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin. 

“Not to me,” he assured you. 

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?” 

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.” 

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now. 

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way. 

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you. 

“Having fun are we?” 

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you. 

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you. 

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug. 

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?” 

You tilted your head. “Levi?” 

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi’s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back. 

“Let me down!” 

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy. 

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.” 

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.” 

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.” 

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?” 

“A little…” 

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you. 

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.” 

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!” 

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub. 

“But I don’t know what you need!” 

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.” 

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk. 

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.” 

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!” 

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.” 

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.” 

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character.  If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?” 

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!” 

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?” 

You brightened. “Sure!” 

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.” 

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know. 

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--” 

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little. 

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…” 

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?” 

“Right here.” 

“Water?” 

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.” 

“D.D.D.?” 

“You can see it in my hands.” 

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?” 

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.” 

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?” 

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?” 

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked. 

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.” 

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?” 

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--” 

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!” 

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!” 

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”  

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…” 

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.” 

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!” 

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?” 

“Yes.” 

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?” 

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud. 

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo. 

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress. 

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.” 

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.” 

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.” 

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?” 

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.” 

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case. 

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?” 

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-” 

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.” 

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!” 

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.” 

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.” 

“Wow, that really sucks for you.” 

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next. 

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?” 

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat. 

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?” 

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…” 

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?” 

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…” 

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.” 

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.” 

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.” 

“But I-” 

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don’t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you. 

“I don’t want your rag water.” 

“Fine.” 

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?” 

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.” 

“Belphie!” 

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.” 

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.” 

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?” 

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.” 

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!” 

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…” 

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!” 

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question. 

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!” 

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips. 

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound. 

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted. 

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly. 

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked. 

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.” 

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him. 

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds. 

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door. 

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild. 

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left. 

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen. 

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?” 

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.” 

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him. 

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!” 

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?” 

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!” 

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest. 

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.” 

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?” 

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked. 

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could. 

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop.  Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver. 

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.” 

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face. 

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same. 

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?” 

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.” 

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters. 

“Asmo…” 

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms. 

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground. 

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.” 

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

[russilton]

AUGHH YOUR AU IS SOOO GOOOD. i've literally been brainworming it all day. george in general is pretty reserved despite how emotional he is, but rb!george is a WHOLE different kind of reserved. there's just this bratty, seeming uncaring front he puts up whenever he's at his lowest. but even despite it, he's still soft, to a certain degree. of course he fights against rb and max in the race before the break, but after it's obvious he still relents after all of it.

it's just. agh. he's fought so much and has a hardened shell to cover up how damn soft and polite he actually is, but rb's forced him to erase that and reinforce it all the same, and MANNN he is so fucked up.

i can't wait to read the actual thing if you end up writing it, but honestly all these snippets and art is keeping well fuckin fed. thank you so much for this au :D - @ruszhou

I wrote you this like, really great long monologue about how George’s trust issues develop, how each of the main people in RB teach him a new lesson in things he needs to either hide away, and how eventually he spends so long acting that it becomes harder and harder to remember who he was before. How Lewis caring about him makes him feel like an animal backed into a corner, because it either means Lewis is lying to him now as well, or he isn’t and George will be forced to look down at how his Redbull dream is rotting under his feet.

Then tumblr deleted it and didn’t save a draft, SIGH. Instead of trying to rewrite it, I’m going to offer you the first nsfw fic snippet from this au

I for sure want to write this, I know it’s going to take a while and it’s the most ambitious fic undertaking I’ve ever attempted. But to combat that a little I’m trying to write scenes as I feel driven to, prevent blank page syndrome. Here’s 1k of smut after George’s first win lol.

Red bull George Au spoilers under the cut.

Some little warning tags: mildly unsafe sex, slut shaming, feminised name calling

For such an imposing and unpredictable figure on track, George folds like paper when Lewis gets a firm grip on his hips, back arching smoothly and presenting his ass upwards, right into Lewis’ waiting hands. He’s gorgeous, Lewis wants to own him.

“I always manage to forget what a whore you are, Russell. What would your boss think of you like this, I wonder? So desperate you’ll let your rival fuck you?” He muses out loud, thumbs pushing his cheeks apart so he can rub firm circles into George’s hole, testing its give and attempting to humiliate George all in one. No reason to waste time, they both know how this goes.

“Rival? It took you 10 laps to overtake me on better tires. Rivals actually challenge you” even with his cheek pressed to the sheets and ass spread for Lewis, the Red bull driver still manages to sound bored and unimpressed, tilting his head to the side to look at Lewis with a raised brow. Fucker.

Lewis retaliates by pushing the tip of his dry thumb into George’s entrance It’s tight and not particularly comfortable for either of them, but George tenses up and pushes back, then moans long and low when Lewis spits directly on his hole. He takes the opportunity to lean over George, broader chest covering the slimmer man entirely as he works his spit covered digit inside, soft grunts from George encouraging him as Lewis gets his lips right next his ear

“You can pretend to be whatever you want out there. I’ll always know you’re just a brat who's begging to be ruined”

No matter how he’ll try to talk his way around it, the way his ass clenches on Lewis’ thumb tells the older man all he needs to know. He doesn’t waste time on waiting for whatever George’s next taunt will be; reaching forward instead to grab the lube off the hotel nightstand before flicking it open and drizzling a moderate amount right into the cleft of George’s ass. It’s cold, and he makes no attempt to warm it even as George jumps, just sets about scooping lube up with his index finger and working it into George.

While it’s fun to watch George quiver and shake on his knuckles, Lewis cock is starting to make an insistent appearance, aching mutely, pre-come welling at the head and threatening to drip messily into the sheets. He tugs his fingers roughly out of George, grinning at the protesting groan he gets in return. He takes a second to watch George clench around nothing but clear lube dripping lazily out of him, before smacking his ass sharply to get George’s attention.

“Condom?”

“Fuck that, just get on with it, come on” George grinds out, rubbing his forhead into the sheets and pressing back into the hand Lewis still has tight on his ass.

Lewis’ mind fills with degrading names, all the things he wants to call George, to tempt him into a reaction just the way he does to Lewis on track, but he forgoes them in favour of lining the blunt head of his cock up against George’s hole. He probably should have prepared him more, added another finger or some more lube, the size of him looking intimidating against the backdrop of George’s lithe frame.

George doesn’t seem to agree at least, whining high in his throat as he waits for Lewis to do something other than massage his ass and stare at himself. Needy bastard.

He waits until George opens his mouth again to say something before bucking his hips and fucking the first few inches in, punching a gasp out of George before he relaxes and moans from the stretch. The wanting noises continue to spill out of George’s lips until Lewis’ hips are pressed tight to his ass.

He can’t quite resist one last act of mocking, draping himself over George and pressing him into the bed so he can get his mouth up to George’s ear, biting the lobe and tugging it with his teeth before he continues.

“You’re made for this, Slut. Be useful for once, lie there and take it.”

He growls it right into George’s ear, deep and commanding, before pulling back and fucking in hard enough to make their skin slap together. For once, George shuts up, jaw clenching around a shout as Lewis sets a rhythm that should keep him quiet. Like this, he’s stunning, Lewis thinks, letting his eyes rove lazily over George’s tanned arms and smooth, muscled shoulders. His ribs dip into a small waist and hips where Lewis holds him tight enough it’s sure to leave bruises, hauling George back onto his cock to make sure his thrusts push as deep as possible. His ass is gorgeous, slapped red and marked, and he swallows Lewis so well. Lewis can’t resist leaning back and using his thumbs to spread George’s ass so he can stare at his dick disappearing into him, almost like magic. Lewis has enough self love to say confidently he’s bigger than average. Plenty of partners and some opportunistic photographers have pointed that out to him. Compared to George’s tiny little hole he should be threatening, but George really does seem custom built for this, keening high and long at the stretch around his entrance that Lewis is pulling wider.

“F-fuck, I knew y-y-you had an ego, but are you j-just watching yourself?” Russell’s attempt at a barb would hit more sharply if Lewis couldn’t hear the slight desperation on his breath, words stuttering out around each glide over his prostate. He’s not mad that Lewis is looking at himself. He’s mad that Lewis has slowed in his thrusts to do so.

“Are you really that desperate? Can’t behave for five seconds because you’re just too greedy?”

“W-why would I behave for you?”

“Because if you think anyone else is going to put up with your attitude to fuck you, Princess, you’re lying to yourself”

“Am I? You seem pretty happy to”

“I like watching you walk around out there acting like a prince, when I know you’re just a bitch, who wants to be filled. My bitch”

He’s over discussing this with George now, wants to remind him just who he is at his core under the bravado and hubris, so he yanks George’s legs out from under him, forcing George flat onto the sheets under him so he’s trapped between the mattress and Lewis’ cock spearing him open. George gasps, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing his head into the fabric below him like it will help him escape the sensations overwhelming him. Lewis takes the chance to kiss his cheek, grinning when George swears at him, before he plants his forearms for leverage and starts thrusting again, hard and fast.

Now he’s finally got George where he wants him he takes a chance to kiss over the smooth tanned shoulders below him, biting at the back of George’s collar where it should be well hidden. He’s not an asshole, no matter how much he wants to mark George up and watch him walk back into the red bull garage.

His skin is sweaty and tastes faintly of champagne that must have leached through his fire suit on the podium. The sting of second place feels a lot less sharp when the driver on first is shuddering apart under him. He times a well angled thrust with a sharp scrape of teeth over the younger man’s neck, just to hear George cry out his name, high and desperate.