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driftward · 8 months ago

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Folks what keep to themselves are folks what stay alive out here. It don't do nobody no good to go pryin' too much into anyone's history. We all got our secrets to keep. And some people, well, they're tryin' to leave a past behind.

Best let sleeping hounds lie.

A Desertwalkers story

The Woman Who Was

The war was over.

Ada Fairlight stood on the platform as behind her, the train left, to continue on to its next destination.

The military was done with her.

She had long been done with it.

Nobody was there to meet her at the station. She made her way to the carriages, and made her way home.

“Your brother wanted to be the one to welcome you home,” her mother had said later in the evening, in a rare moment of something approaching softness. “But some days, his condition is worse than others. I’m afraid he is not lucid tonight.”

Ada nodded, understood.

The accident. She had been there for it. She had come out fine, but his lungs had been burnt, scarred. His breathing would never return to normal again. And so they wrote, while she was still serving, and he was at home.

He never complained in his letters. They were always light, easy, like he had been. Simple stories of days as they passed, simple questions into how she was doing, simple updates on the social going ons of home.

She watched him as he slept, and left him alone.

She was there when he was awake, and offered what scant comfort she could.

She held his hand, and told him where she would be going, and he squeezed, and smiled, and winked, and was his usual warm self, full of a light she did not deserve.

Go, he told her. He would keep in touch.

Her mother, for a blessing, fully approved of the undertaking.

Too old for proper courtship, and too young to be taken seriously as a family matriarch, Ada supposed.

Well, she was the second born, her mother said. Never should have expected much of her, went unsaid.

It didn’t matter. She did not want nor need her mother’s approval, anyroad.

And so, former Captain Ada Fairlight changed, becoming graduate student of natural and physical studies Ada Fairlight, as she started life at university.

~*~

Ada Fairlight spent most of her time in the library.

There were a few students who, like her, were former military. She had become a pariah during her time of service, however, and that history ensured that she would not find camaraderie with them.

The other students, she simply did not find much in common with. They were younger than her, turning to university as they came of age, rather than first having had to go and meet the needs of the nation.

And so she existed, feeling somewhat outside of the shared human experience.

But in her studies, she found wonder.

In the rules and rigor of mathematics, in the exploration of theories still being formed. In the ways it could be applied to try and bring understanding to a world she frequently found confusing. In the quiet hours, all by herself.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

Well, perhaps not all by herself.

“Not at all. Please, help yourself,” said Ada, barely glancing up. Some young woman. Hyur. Very blonde.

She turned her attention back to her work.

“Say, I hope you don’t mind me asking… but what is it that you’re studying?”

“Mathematics.”

Ada resisted the urge to return the question, as would have been polite. The woman made an interested noise.

“You know, I’ve always wondered. I see you in here a lot.”

“I am here a lot.”

“…right. Of course.”

Social obligations surely met by now, Ada settled back into polite silence.

“It’s just-”

Fury take her.

“Uhm, well, it’s just, I was wondering… you seem very very smart, and I could use some help. I was thinking… uh, perhaps you could help me… study?”

Ada slowly looked up to see the woman rubbing the back of her head and looking down at the tabletop, smiling slightly.

“I am certain there are tutors available for just about any subject you may need help in.”

“Well, sure, but that’s not the same! And, well, lots of them are scheduled out sennights in advance. And, well, I was thinking…”

The woman’s voice trailed off towards the end of what she was saying, to the point that she was practically mumbling. Ada looked around, seeing if there was anybody nearby who could possibly be bothered.

“I understand that it is simply polite to keep your voice down in here, but there is no need to keep so quiet that I cannot hear you.”

The woman shot up in her seat and screwed up her face, and when she spoke, her words hammered out like a stampede.

“AndIAlsoThoughtThatYouLookedLikeYouCouldUseAFriend.”

She took a deep breath in, and continued, a bit slower.

But only a bit.

“And I thought I would like a friend, too,” she finished.

Ada peered at her curiously.

“Well,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “I suppose that one of the advantages of learning in a university setting is that the students are able and meant to help one another out.”

“Right! Yes. Exactly! If you help me, well, maybe I can help you, too. Like, I could buy you lunch or something.”

“I am more than capable of affording my own lunch, thank you.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.”

The woman looked crestfallen, and mentally, Ada sighed.

“But I shall commit to working with you as best as I am able, anyroad.”

The other woman’s face positively lit up, and Ada just shook her head.

“Lyse, by the way. That’s my name. I’m Lyse.”

“Ada.”

“Oh, I’m so excited! This is going to be great, just you wait and see!”

Ada was not so sure. But, well, she was just being polite for now, and her new ‘friend’ would surely grow tired of either her or her reputations soon enough.

~*~

Lyse did not grow tired of her.

They began to meet regularly in the library. Lyse sometimes asked for help with mathematics or sciences, and Ada helped as she was able. In the library, they would talk about class work, course loads, and Ada found she was helping Lyse on matters of personal management more than anything.

Ada found herself often annoyed, at first. She never expressed it, of course. To do so would be impolite. But the woman was simply an endless font of energy, nearly always moving even while sitting, with a tendency to be impulsive and brash. Ada attempted to temper the latter as much as possible.

And after they were done in the library, they would move to lunch, where Lyse would truly light up, always seeming to have something new to say. Ada was as polite as she could manage, as polite as she had learned to be. Quiet, demure, perhaps not as deferential as mother would have liked, but mother was not here right now.

However, she did know her role. Listen politely. Ask small probing questions. She had no talent for social games, but Ada had dealt with socialites and would-be heiresses in her debutante days. She was certain that any day now, Lyse would realize that Ada was no benefit to her social movement or standing, and would drift away.

But for as much as Lyse talked, she listened, and asked questions of her own. At first, Ada thought they were simply being polite at one another, but she gradually began to realize that Lyse’s interest was real. She was paying attention. An off-hand comment about an injury from sports, and Lyse showed up the next day with a soothing balm. Conversations on favorite foods, and Lyse suggested a new spot to eat the next day that was rather to Ada’s liking.

Ada found herself warming to her, and doing likewise in return. Lyse liked dance, so Ada learned about the arts she was versed in, to be able to speak to them more intelligently. Lyse could be disorganized, but a new notebook later and Ada was able to remind her of important things she needed to tend to.

Simply favors exchanged for favors owed, of course.

But sometimes it was not just one side for the other. What was meant to be a light comment on a naturalist expedition they read about in one of the periodicals resulted in a dramatic shift in their activities in the library as the subject drew both their interest, in slightly different directions.

The library turned out to be a great source of news, as the great age of exploration launched in the wake of war. They spent many an hour in the library, poring over articles describing naturalists and explorers as they swept the world, discovering cultures, peoples, animals, lands, and more. Lyse read excitedly of the latest explorers while Ada indulged in the discoveries they made.

“Cor, Ada, all these adventures, all this excitement, all these peoples being met! And not in the name of conquest, but in the name of cooperation. I dare to think this may be the beginning of a new era of peace.”

“Indeed,” said Ada. “It is almost as though our civilization is growing up.”

“Huh,” said Lyse thoughtfully, and then they spent many hours talking about just that. And both were definitely excited to continue to read about it. Diving bells exploring the ocean, sailing ships returning from distant shores. An expedition to the far south, to explore the pole. Journeys to the far East and far West, and more. A new era of peace and understanding, that was Lyse’s position.

Ada gave more thought to what it might be like to explore those frontiers. She liked to imagine herself doing such things, and began to take on studies that might help her with that goal. Lyse, as well, shifted, beginning to make new connections with like minded individuals, arranging social meetings and expanding her arts, such as they were.

The semester ended, but at the beginning of the next one, they continued their traditions. Studying together in the library, and sharing lunch right after. Lyse began to expand her social circle, meeting new people and making new friends, but she always made time for Ada, even beginning to show interest in matters outside of their study sessions.

As did Ada herself. She knew Lyse’s dancing and demonstrations were important to her. She was part of one of the performing troupes on the campus, putting on shows. Ambassadors of peace, Lyse described them as. Telling the story they wanted to show the world, through theater, dance, showing off as many cultures as they knew about and could learn about. A dazzling show for a campus eager to learn of the worlds they were reading about from the explorers that were meeting the world where it was.

Lyse spoke much of it, and it was clear it was important work for her. And so Ada, without telling her, made a point to go see one of the shows.

It was magnificent. She had known Lyse had a physicality to her, it was obvious just looking at the woman, she had a build that spoke to a high level of athleticism. But watching her perform was something else entirely. They were putting on an adaptation of a show from the Far East, about the first meeting between two of the cultures from there. Each of the cultures shared their stories, visited one another, and when it came to teaching each other their sports, Lyse featured prominently on the stage. She was grace, and she was power, and she was incredible.

As the show ended and the performers took their bows, Ada thought for a moment that Lyse spotted her in the crowd. She did not draw attention to herself, however. This was Lyse’s night, Lyse’s performance, and Ada did not wish to be a distraction. So when the group began to break out and the crowd began to leave, Ada was quick to make her way out.

She was only a little bit down the street when she heard her name called out, and turned to see Lyse running to catch up to her.

“You came!” she said, breathlessly, as she caught up to her.

“I thought you would stay with the group and help them with break down,” said Ada.

“I asked if it was alright that I left it to them. Don’t you worry, they told me to go. I’m glad you came.”

“I am glad as well,” said Ada.

They walked along quietly for a bit.

“So… what did you think?” asked Lyse.

“I am hardly an art critic, Lyse.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking for professional criticism then, isn’t it?”

“Well,” said Ada. “You were rather a better performer than I would have guessed.”

Lyse held a hand to her chest and staggered. “Oi, such backhanded praise!”

“What?” said Ada. “That is not what I - I mean - what I meant was, uhm. Uhm. Well.”

Lyse laughed, and Ada sighed, squeezing her nose.

“No, you are right, I do not know why I said such a horrid thing. Your group was… very engaging. And you are, you were, a delight to watch. I hope you will do more.”

“Oh, I certainly intend to,” said Lyse, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward to look at Ada. “Seriously though, thank you for coming to see me.”

“Think nothing of it.”

They walked along quietly for a few moments, Lyse with a spring in her step, and Ada looking up at the skies wondering why Lyse was friends with someone so daft.

“You know,” said Lyse. “I thought when I first saw you that you looked kind of sad and lonely.”

Ada just raised an eyebrow at her, and Lyse smiled, sunny and beaming.

“But I know better now. You just like to lose yourself in your books, exploring your own sort of inner world.”

“We cannot all be such bright social butterflies as yourself, Lyse,” said Ada, and Lyse laughed.

“You’ve been helping me with my studies all this time! Maybe I can help you be more sociable.”

Ada looked at Lyse, considering. She was not sure she was very interested.

“You have more than repaid my assistance,” said Ada. “I do not think you thought of how much I would be eating when you offered to buy me lunches.”

“You pay more than half the time, don’t think I haven’t noticed! And I enjoy your company, so that’s hardly anything.”

Ada reconsidered. Mother had tried to impress upon her, often, the importance of making friends, establishing connections, and developing some measure of influence.

And she was a Fairlight.

“Well,” she said, “I am willing to try.”

“Cor! That’s great! Here, let’s try this on. Go ahead and stand up straight, and give me a big ol’ smile, let me see what I’m working with.”

Ada did as she was told. Right. Smile. Tight lips. Squint a bit, but not too much. Or was it show teeth? Which was more ladylike?

Lyse made a face. “Well, let’s work on that a bit, shall we?”

They both continued to chat, as they walked home. And the next time they met at study, Lyse had brought notes and cards for Ada to review. Ada continued to help Lyse with matters of science and maths, and Lyse spent many long hours helping Ada, working on the little unspoken social rules that she admittedly had trouble with.

In this, Ada had to admit, Lyse was a much better student than she was.

Politeness was the angle they ultimately worked on. Etiquette had rules, and Ada was already very polite. Lyse nudged her into exploring that further, and Ada took to it readily.

“You know,” said Lyse one day. “You came to see my performance, but I’ve never gone to see you at anything.”

“I do not think you would find the mathematics gymnasium of any great interest.”

Lyse squinted her nose and frowned up at Ada. “That sounds like a nonsense thing, but you say it in such a straightforward manner I almost believe you.”

Ada looked flatly at Lyse for a moment, and then winked, and Lyse threw her hands up in the air.

“Cor, and I thought you were unreadable before, you’re almost inscrutable now! I never should have taught you how to do that!”

Ada laughed at that. It was true, Lyse had managed to turn one of her weaknesses into a strength. Ada was bad at forcing facial expressions, but had a good neutral face, it turned out. Just needed some work, Lyse had felt, and they had worked on it.

Lyse thought it might be why few people were willing to approach Ada. Ada was of the opinion that it was just because she was generally unlikable, but had never pressed the point.

“Alright, be fair now, Ada. Wait! You’re in some sports, right? Tell me about that.”

“Well,” said Ada reluctantly. “I do play rugby.”

Lyse lit up at that, and sure enough, at the next meetup, she was there. She introduced Ada to a friend of hers afterwards, and the two exchanged niceties. He was in fencing, and Ada expressed she had long had an interest in such.

The semester break came, and with it, Ada went home.

“You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself at university,” her mother commented. “Good. The family is increasing our investment in some industrial and shipping concerns, and I would have you help with our business in such.”

Her brother was weaker, but still warm and kind with her. She spent as much time with him as she was able when he was lucid, silently vowing to find a way to help with his condition.

And then, the next semester began. This time, with Ada on the fencing team, and Lyse cheering her on.

Lyse’s social circles and influences continued to expand. She began to invite Ada to more and more events, and Ada went, of course. Lyse came to her matches, it was literally the least she could do. Favor for favor, support for support. And, Lyse opined, it was a good opportunity to test Ada’s social skills. And so after performances or during parties, Lyse would always bring Ada around to talk to people. She was kind and exuberant and excited as she introduced Ada to people, always introducing her as being far smarter and far more interesting than Ada thought she was.

For her part, Ada tried to play along. Ever polite. Downplaying her own part in conversations, while trying to lift Lyse up. Being supportive. Being as kind as Lyse was. Trying to keep up what she saw as her end of the bargain.

And their study sessions continued, too, as well as their lunches together. However, more and more often, Lyse was inviting others to lunches. At first, Ada did not mind. It was just lunch, after all. However, as she met more and more people she did not know, she found it increasingly uncomfortable.

But of course, it was good for Lyse, good for her to form relationships, to improve her social cachet.

Ada began to make excuses at the end of their study sessions as to why she could not make it to lunch so often. It did not matter. Lyse had found her people, and Ada was happy for her.

“Ada,” said Lyse one day, after Ada had begged out of another luncheon. “I notice you don’t come to lunch nearly so often.”

“I make my own arrangements,” said Ada. “And I do have other studies I need to get to. I am in the upper classes, now, and need to begin to prepare for my final study.”

“Hmn. Just so, I sort of miss our lunches,” said Lyse, thoughtfully. “Say, here’s a thought. How about we go out today? Just you and me. It’ll be like old times.”

“What of your friends?”

“They’ll understand.”

Lyse reached a hand out, and just put it on the table, palm up.

Ada looked at it for a long moment, then reached out, despite herself.

“Okay,” she said.

And as she clasped Lyse’s hand, she felt not the usual twinge of discomfort she felt when touching someone else, but something else instead. Warmth, searing warmth, a heat that seemed to travel up her arm.

And when Lyse smiled, oh, that warmth was coming from a sun.

“Great!” said Lyse, pulling Ada to her feet, and Ada followed.

“I notice,” Lyse said, some time later, “You seem uncomfortable with new people.”

Ada just shrugged, continuing to eat her sandwich.

“Maybe we should just agree to meet like this at least once a week. Just lunch, with just you and me.”

“You do not have to.”

“I - I want to. I said I miss this, didn’t I? And I do. You’re my first and dearest friend here. And I like it when I’m with you. When you’re all quiet and thoughtful.”

“I like this, too,” said Ada quietly.

“It’s all the people, isn’t it?”

“A… little bit. I am sorry, I do not mean to be a bother, but it can be a bit much.”

“Gods, Ada. You are not a bother. I don’t even think I need to tell you that. You’ve been a big help since the moment I first met you, and you’ve been really very kind, so don’t try to be all modest. I like you, alright?”

Ada just nodded.

“You know,” Lyse said, after letting a companionable silence pass, “I always had hoped I was doing you as much of a favor as you were me. Taking you to performances, introducing you to people at soirees. But if that’s too much for you, you don’t have to do it, you know.”

Ada considered. It was bad enough that Lyse was proposing giving up her lunches for her. And Lyse was right. It was a favor. Ada had met people through Lyse, made a few friends, had managed some small exchanges of favors of her own. A helping hand here and there usually returned to her in some manner. Her position on the fencing team, for one.

And Lyse was always so happy when Ada was around, happy to bring her around, happy bringing her to talk with others.

Well. Favor for a favor, then. Lyse was helping her. She would continue to help Lyse.

“I do not mind,” said Ada. “I am perhaps better with large crowds. Easier to, ah, blend in, I think.”

Lyse studied her face carefully, and Ada was careful to reveal nothing.

“Well, so long as you’re sure,” she said.

Ada was sure. And afterwards, she was better able to schedule her time. Some lunches with Lyse, the rest for more studying.

It was nice, she had to admit.

Lyse continued to have more events, and Ada increased her efforts to put in a good showing at them.

Efforts that, apparently, did not go unnoticed.

Ada was deep in a medical text book in the library. One of the days that Lyse was having lunch with her other friends, when someone came up to her table across from her.

“Captain Fairlight,” the man said, stiffly.

Ada looked up at him. She did not recognize him. Elezen, like herself. Small face, small eyes, dark skin, dark hair.

“Formerly,” she said. “I would think it quite rude for anyone to use their rank after they have separated from the service.”

The man leaned on the table, glaring at her as he did so.

“I’m certain you want others to think so. Or perhaps you think yourself so able to escape your history?”

Ada looked at him, blankly, then turned her attention back to his hand. He was rather closer than politeness should have allowed.

“I have made no secret of who or what I am.”

“Oh? And does the Princess of Ala Mhigo know she hangs out with a disgrace?”

Ada wondered how much trouble she would be in if she pinned his hand to the table using her stylus.

“Do not be ridiculous. Ala Mhigo has not had a monarchy since their civil war. And I am certain the Mad King left no heirs for so much as a courtesy title.”

“You know who I am talking about.”

Ada was bewildered. “I am certain I do not. And pardon me, but who are you, anyroad?”

The man just snorted, and turned away. “Someone who knows Colonel Mirkasch. I wonder if he knows what you’re trying. Watch your station, Captain, and watch yourself.”

Ada just stared at his back as he walked away.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” she wondered aloud.

She brought up the bizarre interaction with Lyse the next time they had lunch, and Lyse just sighed and shook her head as she listened.

“Oh, gods, Ada,” she said when she was finished. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I think.”

“I do not see how,” said Ada.

“He was talking about me,” said Lyse.

Ada frowned, looking at Lyse.

“…you are no princess,” she said, slowly, and Lyse laughed.

“Cor, of course I’m not! And nobody around here would call me that, anyroad. But, back home, my family does have a bit of a reputation.”

Ada thought about it for a moment.

“If you wish to tell me, I will listen. But if you wish me to leave it alone, I will. I know who you are, Lyse. That is enough for me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Lyse.

After a moment, she offered her hand, palm up. And Ada reached out, and clasped it.

“My family’s been involved in Ala Mhigo politics in one way or another since the Mad War,” said Lyse. “Most recently, my father, Curtis, was part of the group that helped get them back on their feet properly. And my sister, she worked with Louisoix.”

“Wait, Louisoix?” said Ada. “The famous naturalist Louisoix? Ambassador for peace Louisoix, the one who disappeared a few summers ago?”

“That one, yes.”

“And your sister?”

Lyse sighed. “Died during the more recent war, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” said Ada. “My condolences. I should not have asked.”

“You didn’t know. I should’ve told you, though.”

“Wait. If she worked with Louisoix…” Ada thought about Lyse’s work, the themes of her performances, her ideals that she followed. “Ambassador for peace. … I am a little embarrassed that I did not put it all together before now.”

Lyse smiled at her, and reached forward to hold Ada’s hand in both of hers.

“I didn’t want to scare you off. Here, at university, in a foreign nation, I had a chance to be a nobody for a little bit. And it worked there for a while, didn’t it? I mean, smart as you are, you didn’t know who I was. But now you do. And the work that I do - I like to think I’m doing it, at least a little bit, for her. For my sister. But also I’m doing it for myself. We all do.”

“We?”

“I stay in touch with some of her comrades. Most of them have travelled across the ocean to the west - they seem to think there’s some kind of hulaboo that might be happening over there or something. I don’t know about all that, but I know my work is here. And I think I’d like to keep doing it.”

Lyse rubbed the back of Ada’s hand, just staring at the table. “So now you know. Yes, I’m known as the Princess of Ala Mhigo. I’m not a real princess, of course. But I’m becoming better known through my work. And our message is getting out there, and the troupe’s becoming more of a thing. Probably spend my last few semesters here traveling as my thesis of sorts. Spreading our message and showing people how we can be better.”

She took a deep breath in, and let it out slow. She continued to hold on to Ada’s hand.

“I understand if this is all a bit much for you. Look, I promise, I’m not so important as all that. I mean, I’m not naive, I know names mean something, and I know that social rank is so important to your people, but really, I… am just Lyse Hext, university student. Doing my best. I promise.”

Lyse looked sad, more than anything. Which made no sense.

“I know,” said Ada. “For what it is worth, I am sorry as well. The man was right on one matter. I am Ada Fairlight. Former Captain Fairlight.”

She took a deep breath in, and she told Lyse the story. Of the ship she was on, of what it was like to be an engineer. Of the accident that damaged the ship badly, killed several, injured many. Of the investigation she did afterwards. Her findings. Bypassing the chain of command to report said findings. The trial afterwards. How, even though she continued to serve, it was effectively the end of her career.

And she even told Lyse things she did not mean to tell her. About how her brother got injured in the accident. How even now, he had not recovered, and probably never would. Of how she had felt that day. Of how she had not really felt since that day.

Lyse listened, sympathetic, until the story was done and Ada was just staring at the table. She raised a hand to her eyes, and wiped away the wet that was there.

“I am sorry,” said Ada, hoarsely. “None of that is any burden of yours. And I should be no burden of yours, either.”

“Ada, why?” said Lyse. “Why do you say such things?”

“I am a pariah among my own people,” said Ada. “And you have so much you wish to accomplish. That man. That man, whoever he was. He was right. I will hold you back.”

“I don’t care,” said Lyse, heatedly.

Ada was just silent.

“I don’t care,” Lyse repeated, louder. She reached her hands up, to almost touch Ada’s face, but hesitated, stopping just shy. And across that small gap, Ada could feel the warmth coming off of Lyse, the heat of her hands.

She leaned forward, and oh, that touch.

And now she was crying. Unwinding. Too much history. Too much time. Too many feelings, and they were all big, and overwhelming, and Ada was suddenly very very tired and wanted to go home and go to sleep, but she was crying, and she was in Lyse’s arms, and Lyse was just holding her.

“I have to say, none of this quite makes sense to me,” said Lyse. “But I don’t care about any of that. So what if you’re a - a what you said. A pariah. I don’t care about your military, I don’t care about what you did. You did - you did the right thing. And you know what? If this Colonel wants to hold a grudge and make trouble for you, why, I’ll make trouble for him right back.”

“You should not,” said Ada between sniffles.

“I will! Don’t think I won’t.”

Lyse’s hands were in her hair, soothing, warm. Lyse’s body was against hers, holding her, hot as a summer day. Searing into her. Ada used that, to anchor herself, to focus. To fight through the warmth. To find herself. To wrestle herself back under control. To stop this embarrassing display.

To be who Lyse needed her to be.

She stopped crying at last, and weakly returned Lyse’s embrace, before pushing her away, gently. Lyse let go, and Ada sat up, pulling out a handkerchief and cleaning herself up.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll see,” said Lyse. “Just… maybe you’re Captain Fairlight, sure. But to me, you’re just Ada Fairlight. And I can be just Lyse Hext. And we can each just be ourselves. Alright?”

Ada nodded. “…alright.”

She was so tired.

“…and I love you,” said Lyse.

Ada looked over at her. And after a moment, she reached out a hand towards her, and when Lyse took it, she squeezed.

Warmth like sunlight traveling up her arm.

“I love you too,” said Ada.

When the next semester break arrived, Ada sent home nothing but letters. She stayed on campus, sharing a dorm with Lyse. It was only a few short sennights, but the two made the most of it. There were no events to attend, no responsibilities to undertake. Just them, sharing. Sharing stories. Sharing dreams. Sharing of each other, and Ada found out that Lyse’s tongue was as warm and kind as she was, and Lyse found Ada’s curiosity capable of plumbing any depth.

Lyse was like a sun, almost too hot, almost burning to Ada, but it was kind, and it could be gentle, and it could be more. Nights spent with bodies intertwined, and it was a kindness Ada did not feel she deserved, but it was bestowed upon her anyroad. Palms pressed to flesh, fingers entwined in hair, gasps for sweet air, and that sun made its home in Ada.

And before the break ended and the beginning of the semester marked the world moving forward again, the last thing they decided to share were their futures.

It was a busier semester. They each had so many plans to make, both for each other, but also for themselves. This would be their last great works at the university. Lyse, as she had predicted, would be taking her troupe on tour. They would visit the many countries of the continent, putting on plays and displays of culture, sharing their vision as ambassadors of peace. The journey meant so much to Lyse, for it would end in Ala Mhigo, where she would make her case before her own people and the star.

Ada, for her part, finished her classwork studies and was preparing for an adventure of her own. Their time in the library had made full its impression, and she wished, at last, to follow in the wake of explorers who had gone before. She would not go anywhere that had not already been trod, for that would be too much for her first journey outside of the military. But she would tread those only recently trod paths, to the near east, and then to the far. She would be an explorer naturalist, learning of peoples, of cultures, of plants, of animals. And as she went along, she intended to continue her studies into mathematics, and other sciences she thought may point to the key of the underpinnings of the star.

Exciting and heady days for both of them. Tiring days, as well. There was so much to do. So much of Lyse’s work required her to talk to others, organize social events, and practice, so much practice. Ada had less, really only strongly feeling the need to tend to her fencing, and so she was present for Lyse as much as was physically possible. That it was tiring mattered not. Ada could put on a neutral face and be Lyse’s stoic shadow, ever present.

And Lyse was always so appreciative, anyroad, introducing Ada to everyone, and continuing to tell people in no uncertain terms that Ada was one of the greatest people in the world, smart, clever, strong, fast, and would surely one day be one of the star’s foremost scientific explorers.

It was tiring. But Ada endured.

And at semester’s end, they lamented that they could not share another lovely interlude like they had before. There was too much that needed doing. Lyse had her tour, and Ada had her expedition.

“I’ll write,” Ada said.

“You’d better,” said Lyse. “I didn’t really think it needed to be said, but you had better. If you don’t, I will track you down wherever you are, and when I catch up with you, well. I. I will be most cross.”

“Cross Lyse Hext?” mused Ada. “Why, I wonder what that would be like.”

Lyse swatted her, and Ada smiled. They walked to the train station, hand and hand, and shared one last kiss on the platform before Lyse left to other lands.

Ada stood and smiled and watched and waved.

Her mother, oddly, had approved when she had made the announcement that Lyse was courting her, and that Ada had given her hand.

“Never thought you would manage,” she had wondered. “Well. I suppose I shall make inquiries, then. Good fortune to you, my daughter.”

It had been the closest thing to praise Ada could remember in recent memory.

Her brother, as well, was enthused. He had met Lyse a few times, during the rare times he was lucid and able to be moved, making it to a play and once to their dorm.

“Lucky woman,” he had said, and been all smiles. He had new machinery to keep him company, now, and he was spending more and more time awake, even if less mobile.

Ada wondered if she could make the machinery somewhat more portable, but did not bother him with such problems. Instead she shared what time with him she could, in the days before she got busy, and embarked on her own adventure.

And what an adventure it turned out to be.

She spent time on boats and trains, steam powered machines that she was well familiar with, but it was novel not being responsible for them. She practiced what Lyse had taught her, and though she did not make friends, she did seem to have better luck at making acquaintances. She travelled far, seeing the many worlds and many lands. In the near east, she met with educated men and women, trading stories of their alchemy with lessons of her machinery. In the far East, she saw how the many cultures interacted and exchanged with each other, heard of their superstitions, learned of their ways, learned of their lands.

Wherever she went, she found not new lands to explore, but lands that already had their own explorers of a sort. She was discovering new things for herself, but the only new things overall were of mathematics and pattern. Each peoples were not new, and their lands were only new to her.

These were civilizations, in and of themself, she realized. She looked at them through Lyse’s perspective as well as her own, and she found she was able to see what many naturalist that had gone before her had missed. They were in too much of a rush to make names for themselves and headline new discoveries back at home.

She instead wrote of the wisdoms she found, building her thesis, and sending articles back to her supervisor at the university. New or not, it was all very exciting to her, and she drank the knowledge she found deeply.

And in it all, she was astounded by what she found, of herself most of all. There were no expectations on her, nobody to chaperone her. She no longer had social pressures pushing down upon her. No former military members lurking to remind her of her place and of the stain on her name. No complications of family politics. No mother whose approval she had to win.

Just Ada Fairlight, free and clear. Responsible only to herself. Trading only those favors she wanted to, and able to be free of them as soon as the trade was complete, moving on to the next place.

She wrote, of course. And Lyse wrote back. Lyse’s journey was as fulfilling for her as Ada was finding her own to be. She was so excited to be meeting so many people, spreading her message, and often helping those in need. Lyse was truly in her element, and Ada in hers, and both were better for it. Sweet sentiments were sent back and forth, and if the letters were spotty coming and going, well, that was fine. It was always a delight to make it to a way station and find a bundle waiting, with sennights of love to go over.

Otherwise, during the idle time that she had, sitting in a carriage or riding on a best of burden, Ada was able to turn her mind to those troubles as she wished. She managed schematics for a new machine, and sent a requisition request back to mother for parts from Fairlight’s budding industrial concerns. Paid with for her pension, of course. She would not spend family money on a personal matter. And she made a gift for Lyse, one, and then several.

It was an idyllic time.

Her trip turned, and she began the long trip home. And as she did, she picked up those bundles of letters that were waiting for her. Lyse had sent her news of her successes, her triumphs, and clippings from newspapers. She also sent Ada something of a surprise. Apparently, Ada’s papers were making inroads. She was not famous by any stretch, but she was showing up in journals, and at least one newspaper clipping had a lithograph of her from school, and an article about the newest up and coming exploring naturalist.

It was from the special interests section, and the back of that, but still. Ada wondered who could have possibly found her work compelling enough to write an article about it. She was not exactly traveling to the poles or exploring the so called ‘dark’ continents. Her work was precious to her, but the places she had been had already been ‘discovered’, were old news.

Lyse’s writings also began to turn to their future. Once they were done in university, she would still continue her mission of peace. She wrote of what their bonding might look like, how they would balance their passions, their interests, their lives. She wrote of the many people she wanted to introduce Ada too, and as she got closer to home, Ada got a feeling of gently increasing, well, something. Concern. Fear? She was not sure.

Ada had been by Lyse’s side for summers, now. Keeping up with Lyse’s social obligations. Meeting so many people from so many places. She had been glad to do it, but she had found it tiring. And after a few moons of not having to do it, she realized she had been relieved to not have to keep up with it anymore.

She was not sure she could keep it up again. She felt uncertain, as she got off the ship. Well, she had time. Lyse would still be gone, as her work would take another full semester, and Ada could take the time to write up final reports and finish her thesis.

And give her brother a gift.

Her mother was as warm as she had ever been, greeting her with a carriage in port. Curious, but Ada did not think overmuch on it as they began to head home.

“Daughter, I must confess, when you told me you were betrothed, I was simply glad you were making something of yourself. But the more I find out about this Hext woman, the more I must say, I am intrigued.”

Ada stared out the window watching the streets go by. “Intrigued how, mother.”

“Well, her little organization is doing much for the realm. To add your name to hers will bolster both, I believe. I have had our people talking with hers. Your wedding shall be the talk of us all, I think. Ambassador for Peace Hext, next to the renowned naturalist Lady Fairlight.”

Ada felt something in her chest seize. Outwardly calm, she turned to her mother.

“Whatever do you mean, mother?”

“Well. Do not worry yourself overmuch about it. We can talk more when your father returns from his business trip. But we simply must seize this opportunity. You will be traveling with Lady Hext, I assume?”

Ada’s voice was distant. “We both still have work to do to finish at university before the bonding ceremony. And then after, well, she has her work, and I intended to continue my own. That is a discussion we have yet to have in full, but we have thought about it.”

Ada’s mother waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, of course, of course. Well, with the resources we will have at our disposal, your name shall rise. It shan’t be necessary for you to go out on your own anymore, of course. Why, with your reputation, we can simply sponsor others to go and do that exploring, while you help Lady Hext with her all important work. Her star is rising, and yours shall rise with it. It will certainly be enough to erase any tales of your time in the service.”

“Yes, of course, mother,” said Ada.

She was not sure she was even in the carriage anymore.Fears she had not known she had harbored were rising up within her. She had assumed her mother would be satisfied that she was out of the way and would leave her to her own devices. Lyse could be just Lyse, and she would just be Ada.

Now it was Lady Hext and Lady Fairlight. Now it seemed the fate of the family was riding on what she chose to do, or not to do.

They arrived home, and Ada drifted through the house, lost.

Well, there was one thing she was certain about, and she anchored on it, heading to Alastor’s room.

She found him, lucid, sitting by the window. He had been watching, waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, bigger sister,” he said easily. “Star explorer and fancy naturalist.”

She smiled softly at him. “I brought something back for you,” she said.

“You brought yourself.”

“I brought something else back for you. I worked on it while I travelled. I’d like you to try it on.”

“Sure, of course, of course,” he said, and she stepped smartly over to him. She had created a small machine, to replace the many big ones that kept him from leaving the room as often as he would like. Even now, he was pulling down gas from a tube. She fitted the device to his waist.

“Huh. Ugly. I’ll never find a shirt to match it.”

“Hush.”

He watched her. “Nervous?”

“A little bit. I have tested it, of course, but I am not the patient in question.”

He shook his head. “Not about this. I can see the tendons in your shoulders. Something has you wound up.”

She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. “Bonding nerves,” she said, which was accurate enough. “Here, try this.”

The machine strapped to his waist, she thumbed it on, and took a tube off of it, and offered it to him. It was bent at the top, and connected to the machine. He took the tube, and looked at it curiously.

“Breathe,” she said, and he nodded. He put the mouthpiece at the end of the tube in his mouth, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in. And then he wheezed, and began coughing.

“Sorry! I should have said something. It will take some getting used to, but-”

Alastor waved her off, as he took several deep breaths before taking another pull off the machine. His eyes widened, and he held a hand to his chest.

“…sure takes the edge off,” he said. “It does not feel like there are rocks in my chest anymore. I can… I can…” he took another deep breath in, and winced immediately.

“Do not push yourself too hard, too fast,” admonished Ada. “I will leave you instructions for the machine. It will require certain chemistries to do its job, but… it has an analgesic and some restorative compounds. It cannot fix your lungs…”

“But it’ll let me get out and about,” finished Alastor. He looked to Ada. “My gods, Ada. You’re a wonder.”

Ada gave him a small smile. “I had a lot of time on my hands.”

Alastor nodded, taking several more deep breaths, and huffing another draw off the device.

“Do not overuse it,” she cautioned. “Too much may drive your lungs numb, and you could hurt yourself worse.”

“Right. Of course,” he said. “…thank you again. Well.”

He stood up. “I was going to wait, but such a tremendous gift should be given one in return. Stay here.”

Ada looked as he managed to struggle to his feet. Well. Of course he was weak. But now that he had more mobile methods of helping him breathe, in a couple of years, well.

She had high hopes.

He returned, giving her a grin. “I have had a lot of time on my hands, too. Plenty of time to do things like explore that disaster that is our attic. And, well, I was going to wait until you’d been home a while longer, but while we’re exchanging gifts… here.”

He held out a box to her that she did not recognise. She frowned at it. It was a pretty thing, gold, with runes inlaid on it, and a glass window on the top.

And though she did not recognize the box, she gasped as she recognized what was in it.

“I can’t get it open,” said Alastor. “But I recognized what was in it, and I thought, well, maybe you could wear it to your bonding ceremony.”

Ada looked up at Alastor, tears in her eyes. Inside the box was a beautiful amulet, and in that amulet was set a rather large amethyst.

He sat down again, and grinned at her.

“Mother took this away from me when I was so very young,” Ada whispered.

Alastor nodded. “I remember. Part of why I recognized it when I saw it. You kicked up such a fuss when she took it from you. I don’t rightly remember why, but you were devastated. That thing meant the world to you.”

Ada cradled the box in her hands. She tried to open it, but it resisted. That was fine. A problem for later. For now, her precious childhood amulet was back in her hands.

She couldn’t even remember why her mother had taken it. She had almost forgotten about it. But now that it was back in her hands, the memories were coming back, faded on the edges, but strong for all that.

And her mother had forgotten it in the attic. Lost and gone.

Ada became dimly aware of how strongly she was gripping the box. Should have been enough to crush it.

“She had no right,” she whispered.

Alastor sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes. “Well, and when I found it, I remembered how much it had meant to you. And I figured, well, maybe you could wear it to your bonding ceremony. Let mother know you’re your own person now. After all, she wouldn’t’ dare say anything about it during the most important day of your life.”

Ada stared at it.

Just another thing that had been dictated to her.

Her life, in a box.

Something in her slipped, and released. Alastor must have noticed, because he grinned at her.

“Hey, look at that, I helped,” he joked.

“Thank you, Alastor,” she said. She swallowed. “I will… I will send you further instructions for the machine later. How to maintain it, how to fill it. I find… I must go and make a great many arrangements.”

“I know, I know, Ada’s off to see the star,” he said, grinning and closing his eyes with a wave of his hands. “Welcome back, bigger sister. And thanks for thinking of your brother.”

Ada stopped at the door, and turned and smiled at him. “Always,” she said.

The next few sennights saw the Fairlight residence always in motion. There were arrangements to be made, letters to be written, things to buy, people to talk to, and Ada was always at the forefront of it, making inquiries, helping as she was able. The house servants found her distant, but her mother found her dutiful enough. She turned her work over completely to the university, and made plans for one last journey.

Her mother had protested, but Ada indicated it would be a short one. Just one last journey, she had said, before the bonding ceremony and inevitable shared futures. Seeing has she had seemingly settled into a routine of seeming to focus entirely on her future, and was otherwise of sound planning, her mother had relented.

Other than that, her mother had no complaints. Her brother had suspicions, but he kept them to himself.

And Lyse’s letters continued to come in. Ada wrote less often, however. Though her room’s wastebasket was full of correspondence she never sent.

Finally, the time came for her final journey. She burned the papers in her wastebasket, tidied her desk, and set her place in the family house to be absolutely pristine, a final preparation. She packed her tools and her things in her bags, and was on her way.

One last letter was sent to Lyse. It contained a gift, and a few simple words.

Dearest Lyse,

I love you.

I cannot stay.

And then after that, Ada Fairlight ceased to exist.

~*~

A woman stood on the platform as behind her, the train left, to continue on to its next destination. She adjusted her glasses, squinting against the dust and the wind.

It had taken her many moons to make it this far. Travel was often perilous. She had learned much about herself in the intervening time, and had learned enough of the lands she meant to arrive at.

And now she was finally here.

She touched a hand to the amulet around her neck, a beautiful thing, with a lovely amethyst secured in its housing.

It felt to her like freedom. Freed of the box it had been in.

The young Ada Fairlight had grown up.

Debutante Fairlight had failed to secure a courtship, and joined the military.

Captain Fairlight had ended their career.

Graduate Ada Fairlight had left for the world.

Naturalist Ada Fairlight had gotten lost in the wilds.

None of those women were here now. None of them needed to be here now. She had learned much, and gone far, and now, at last, she was free.

She was free to make and reject favors as she liked. To ignore any responsibilities she did not wish to undertake. To make something of herself in this land, so far away from the familiar.

The train had left and was gone, and she found her way to borrow one of the local beasts of burden, a rroneek. The man who handled the animals looked her over warily, but was more than happy to handle her custom.

“Where you goin’?” he asked, as he helped her with the animal.

“Stonewood,” the woman said. “And when I arrive there, do you perhaps know where I might go for information?”

He scratched his head, thinking. “Well, I might try Miss F’lhaminn’s cabar-” he began, but then he looked up at her, and was startled to see that she had fixed him with a big grin that had entirely too many teeth and looked entirely too dangerous.

“Uhm, actually, I think you should try around at the Saltlick,” he said quickly. “Ask after the proprietor, she’ll steer you right enough.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, as she climbed up onto the rroneek.

Well, that would be a fine start, she considered. A new start for a new woman.

A new woman with a new name. One she had given much consideration. And now that she was here, there was little attaching her to who she was or where she had come from. Her train ticket had not even had a name on it, just a seat number.

She was satisfied.

And so, free, Zoissette Vauban spurred herself forward, to settle in to Stonewood.

#final fantasy xiv #weird wild west au #desertwalkers #ada fairlight #two of two #biot writes

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joshfuckingkiszka · 1 year ago

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ℭ𝔞𝔩𝔩 ℑ𝔱 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔚𝔞𝔫𝔱 - 𝔖𝔉𝔎

sfk x f!reader

I have an initial necklace hehe (he has mine on a bracelet)

THIS ACCOUNT IS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

My castle crumbled overnight I brought a knife to a gunfight

May third was the last time your friends heard from you. You remembered how the rain had been so humid and suffocating, the leaves just having returned to the branches. Flowers had begun to bloom but you had never felt more shrunken and frail, threatening to fall from the branches to the icy grass. Mark had shattered your heart into a million pieces the previous day, and your friends had arrived at your apartment, attempting to put you back together.

All you could manage was to ask for space, and your absence worried them greatly. They were convinced you had spiraled in the six months since you had spoken. Truthfully, you had been, for a few weeks, anyway. On the first day that you left your apartment for something other than work or class, you had made your way into a previously loved bookstore. Mark had taken you there on a first date, and it became a regular date spot.

All the jokers dressin' up as kings They fade to nothin' when I look at him

At that moment, you were angry. Hopelessly angry. Filled with rage at how easy he made it seem to leave you. Picking up his favorite book from a dusty shelf, you sneered at it, like it was him with the well-loved pages and cover with distressed corners. I bet you think about me, you thought, I’m harder to forget than I was to leave.

“Are you, uh, gonna buy that or just keep making angry faces at it?” You jumped at the silky voice.

“Oh, sorry,” You held it out to him, “I’m not - you can have it.”

“I’m not buying.” He laughed, gesturing to the nametag pinned to his shirt.

A warmth in your cheeks appeared and you placed the book gingerly on the shelf.

“Are you new? I’m here all the time and I’ve never seen you.”

“Yeah, college isn’t gonna pay for itself.”

You both laughed and that was the beginning. In between work and school, you would visit Sam, at the library or his apartment, where you met his best friend, Danny, for the first time. Though, Danny had walked in on you making out with Sam on the couch, so you could’ve made a better first impression, but oh well.

All my flowers grew back as thorns Windows boarded up after the storm

Truthfully, you had spiraled those first few weeks of absolute gut wrenching heartache, determined you were fated to drown. Sam had been a torch in a dark tunnel, a device meant to keep you afloat, and he had done just that. Sam made you laugh and took your breath away all at once.

The two of you spent Friday nights in bars, dancing with each other as you drank cheap beer. The glow of blue neon signs illuminated your head on his chest, and you could practically see the thumping of your own heart in your chest, and he, the same.

Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right

It was great. For about two months. Then it - well, you - came crashing down. It was all too overwhelming, school, work, the future, life. Were you what Sam wanted? You didn’t even have to ask yourself the reverse, he was all you could ever want.

When he knocked on your door, he found it unlocked. He went to joke about being a serial killer when he saw you crumpled in front of the couch, sobs wracking your body. The quip immediately slipped back into his mouth and he ran to hold you. You could hear his frantic heartbeat from your position on his chest, and you apologized for the tears and snot on his shirt.

"You don't need to save me But would you run away with me?"

“Baby, I don’t care,” he laughed in worry, “what’s wrong?” When you couldn’t talk through the tears, he didn’t expect an answer. Sam just held you, your hands gripping his flannel so tightly you thought it might tear.

After an hour, your tears had subsided, perhaps from dehydration, but you didn’t really care. He still held on just as tightly, until you began to untangle yourself from his grasp. Your throat was sore and your voice hoarse, and surely your face was stained with your smeared makeup from the day. That’s not how he looked at you though, he looked at you the way he looked at sunsets, dazzled and bewildered and wonderfully.

“What’s wrong with my baby, hm?” He caressed your jaw, his long fingers finding residence in the mess of your hair.

“It’s just - well, am I what you want? You could have anyone -” He cut you off.

“You are all I want, need, and everything in between, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere until you give me the word.” It was firm in a way you’d never heard Sam Kiszka speak. But he was right.

My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new

The days that followed were not awkward, but had an air of delicacy around them. Like he was afraid to say the wrong thing. You apologized, and he assured you had no reason to. He was learning your boundaries, studying them so he could wrap himself around them and protect you.

One of those days, a new necklace appeared on you, and he wasn’t certain. He thought it might be - no, there was no way. Finally, he stopped you in the hallway as you were coming out of a shower. His fingers picked up the letter on your chest, inspecting its curves and the way it shined in the light. Sam knew you better than anyone, he deserved to be monumentally represented as a permanent part of your appearance.

“An ‘S.’ For Sam. Or Sammy. Or Samuel. Or-” He kissed you to shut you up.

Call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want To

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

sammy: @harmoniousharry

#josh kiszka #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiskza #josh gvf #jake gvf #greta van fic #gvf fic #danny gvf #sam gvf #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fluff #sam kiszka x reader

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nkirukaj · 4 months ago

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Deerly Beloved (9)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing;

Genre: Fluff/Angst (& Humor!)

Word Count: 2.1K

9. Pride

They’d decided to set up a coffee date, though Vera preferred to drink hot chocolate.

“Mom, this is May, and May, this is my mom”

May reached her hand out “Nic to meet you, miss,” she said to the lighter woman.

“Shall we sit?” Daphne asked, and they said, “So, how did you two meet each other?”

“I was sent to clean her house,”

“Ah, makes sense Vera was never one for cleaning,”

“Okay, Mom,” the younger woman rolled her eyes

May laughs and sips her coffee “My son was big on cleaning, he always used to help me around the house,”

Vera puts down her hot chocolate “She loves talking about her son, he's practically perfect,”

“Oh, am I talking too much? My husband used to say that sometimes,” she chuckles.

Vera looked confused “No, I love hearing about your son,” she taps the table “Why would your husband say that?”

May puts the coffee down “Hmm? Oh well, you know how us women can drone on for hours and hours,”

Vera looks at her mother in confusion, which is returned, “Uh no, women actually talk less than men, on average,”

“Well, in my time, women didn’t know when it was time to be quiet, so my husband used to remind me. Maybe women talk less nowadays,”

Mother and daughter look at each other once more at the strangeness of the comment, “Uh, no.” Vera chimes up, “Women actually talk more now than before,” the air is thick with awkward tension before Daphne speaks again.

“if you’d like, we can't trade stories about our children, May, I myself have two. You have any daughters, May?”

She shakes her head “Nope, just my son. Whom Miss Vera here has seemed to take a liking to,”

Vera blushes “He just sounds dreamy, okay,” she takes a long sip of her hot chocolate

Daphne widens her eyes, looking at her daughter “Here I thought that you preferred women,”

“I do!”

“Don’t blame her, my son was quite the lady killer,”

“But he never married,” Vera chimed in “It’s as if he was waiting for me!” she jokes “Say, why hasn’t your son visited you?”

May shrugs “I believe he isn’t here, he may still be alive. How long has it been since 1900?”

“Like a hundred years,”

“You wanna marry a decrepit old man?” Daphne jokes

Vera blushes and laughs “He's probably dead, so where is he?”

“Well I don’t know,” May admits “But if I’m meant to see him then someone will bring me to him,”

The three women sit in silence for a moment and enjoy the nice air. “This is nice, I’ve never done something like this before,” Vera states

“Had a nice cup of hot chocolate?”

“Not with my mom,” she turns to Daphne, who rubs her back “I spent my whole life thinking my mother hated me. Why couldn’t we talk?”

Daphne shrugged “I guess pride got the best of us,”

Pride?

In that instant, Vera is hit with a hazy vision of a thick woman with fiery red curls and a short but very attractive man in a white suit and top hat. She was shocked to find that when the woman spoke, the voice was her own.

“Voe. And no problem, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, you don’t need that ‘Your Majesty’ talk, you may call me Lucifer.”

She smiles warmly “All right, Lucifer.” she speaks coyly.

When she came to, her mother was snapping in her face as she lay on the ground, people surrounding the both of them “Vera! What is going on with you?”

She sits up and grabs her right ear “I think I met the Devil, and he’s hot,”

___________________________________________

Sera had never had as many issues with a resident in Heaven as she’d had as much as Vera Bates. Even without her memories, she was stirring up troubles. Everything that Sera did was to protect Heaven’s soul, and she had no idea what to do if Vera continued to be a disturbance. Sera didn’t even know what to do right now. Now, Vera was claiming to have met ‘The Devil’, and she very well might have, but there was no way she should be able to remember that. Something was very wrong.

Emily stood by her side as Troy brought Vera in. She thanked him for his work and nodded for him to leave. Vera looked quite confused to be here, which frustrated Sera quite a bit, what did she expect after causing a public commotion like that?

“Hello Vera,” she spoke to the doe

Vera brushes off her robes and turns to the Seraphims “Hello,” she notices that Emily looks quite apprehensive, though Sera seems to not notice herself.

“So we’ve heard about your accident in the town square,”

“Yes, and I wanted to talk to you about that because this isn’t the first time that-“

“I wanted to make it clear that disruptions like that are not allowed up here. Especially mentioning our,” she pauses “‘friend’ down below,”

Vera blinks at being interrupted and grimaces “Right, but this isn’t the first time I’ve had these visions or whatever,”

Sera shakes her head “No, no, no, these are not visions. Visions are prophetic, and our souls do not have those unless specifically ordained, which you are not.”

Vera looks off to the side “So then what are they?”

“They must be more along the lines of hallucinations; do your best to ignore them. And please refrain from causing another public disturbance.”

Vera stares up at her “That’s all you’re going to say to me?”

“That’s all there is to say. You have not and never will ‘meet the Devil,’ these things you see are harmless, and I would hate for you to disturb the peace again,”

The doe narrows her eyes “Is that a threat?”

The head Seraphim waves her off “Of course not, just a warming,” she turns away “You may go,”

Vera shook her head and turned to walk away, not knowing that Emilt was behind her until she felt a tap on her shoulder

Emily places a small object in the palm of her hand “Don’t look at it until you leave,” she whispers to the doe. She closes her fingers around the object and nods once before exiting.

Upon arriving home Daphne and May surrounded her, the concern quite evident on their faces. They were bombarding her with questions

“What was it like?”

“Did the seraphim say anything?”

“What was she like?”

“Did she say anything about your visions?”

“What about you know who?”

Vera puts up a hand “I can only process one question at a time,” she takes a deep breath “It wasn’t like much of anything. Maybe something like seeing the principal at school. She didn’t really say anything other than telling me not to disturb the peace. Which is totally unfair because I didn’t do that on purpose,” She crosses her arms “Sera seems really dismissive and not at all concerned with what I had to say. I’m not sure I like her very much,”

“Shh!” Daphne quiets her daughter

“What?”

“We don’t want anyone else hearing you say that,”

Vera rolls her eyes “What’s gonna happen? They’re gonna bring me to her again? So she can ignore me again?” She waves her mother off “Please,”

May steps up “What about you know who?”

“She just told me that I never met him, which is a weird thing to say now that I think about it. Why is she not concerned that I’m having visions of him? Or wait, ‘hallucinations,’” she says mockingly.

Daphne notices that Vera is keeping her right hand tightly wrapped around something, and grabs it from her “What is this?”

Vera shrugs “I don’t know, it’s something that Emily gave me on the way out,”

Daphne opens her hand to reveal a silver ring decorated with a diamond and deer antlers. The stone shines in the light. Vera is transfixed by the ring and snatches it from her mother's hand. She feels the metal and the stone between her fingers; it feels cold and yet familiar as she slips it on her left ring finger. She falls flat on her back as her sight is taken over by another ‘hallucination’

“Next week,” he whispers

“Hmm?” she questions while writing something down for a cue

“I want to marry you next week,” he repeats himself

Her eyes pop out of her head “What?”

He sets his face into a close-lipped smile “You heard me,”

“You are now married!” Lucifer yells over the people

She sits up on the floor, rubbing the back of her head, as Daphne and May crouch around her

“What is going on with you???” Daphne asks

“I need to see Emily,” is the first thing out of her mouth, “I think I have a fucking husband,”

_________________________________________________

Daphne, Vera, and May made their way back to the embassy. The two older women were very sure of their parts in this scheme, but there was no stopping Vera. She entered the doorway like nobody’s business, and they followed, emboldened by her confidence. Luckily, they find Emily floating around the room as if looking for busy work, and Sera is nowhere to be seen.

“Emily,” Vera calls out for her. The younger seraphim turns around “I need my memories now,”

Emily floats down to the ground with a somewhat scared look on her face “I-I’m not supposed to..”

“Emily,” the doe pleads, “I need them. I think I have an entire family that I’ve left behind. I need to know, please,” the seraphim seems apprehensive “Emily, what is your purpose?”

Under her breath, she answers, “To make sure our people are happy,”

Vera reaches out and turns her face “I will never be happy until I get my memories,” she smiles softly “You’d just be doing your job,”

Emily stops tears from falling, swallows some air, and then nods, “Okay,”

The young seraphim turns and walks through a large door; Vera is unsure of whether or not to follow until she sticks her head out of the door “Come on!” she waves for Vera to follow. She does and finds Emily in a room that seems restricted to the public, with files from the floor to the ceiling. Emily is floating above the ground, looking through files.

“C’mon c’mon,” she whispers, thumbing through each one as quickly and quietly as possible. “Sera keeps these in meticulous order, and I don’t want her to know that I took anything, so this will have to be quick,”

Vera marvels at the room. All these souls, all these people, with their memories just…gone, all for what? To fit some fake twisted status quo? Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a file labeled Fontenot, May. She instinctively reaches toward it.

“Got it!” Emily exclaims, floating back down to Vera

Daphne and May enter the room “Miss Emily, I hear someone outside the main door,”

Emily squeaks in terror “Maybe another time?” she smiles awkwardly at Vera

“Emily…”

“Okay, okay,”

She flips through the file, marked Bates, Vera until she comes across a shiny orb that she pulls out.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Emily snaps her fingers, and Vera’s eyes roll back into her head. She begins to fall backward, but May and Daphne are there to catch her, standing her back upright.

Vera blinks rapidly and immediately turns to May upon regaining her memories “May, what is your son’s name?”

May blink back as if slightly shocked to have been asked this, “Alastor, why?”

There’s a loud banging at the door. “Emily?” It’s Sera

“Vera, what is going on?” Daphne asked

Vera turns back to the younger Seraphim with another request: “I need to get back to Hell. Can you do that?”

Emily turns away “I’ve already done a lot today,”

“Emily, please,” when Emily turned back, she could see the pleading in Vera’s eyes

The knocks come again, harder and louder. “Emily? What are you doing in there? I’m coming in,”

Vera’s eyes widen as she stares at the younger seraphim, who closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and begins making magic with her hands. When she opens her arms, there it is, the portal to Hell, to Vera’s family and all her memories.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, just go!”

“Emily, what’s going on?” Sera’s voice can be heard getting louder

Vera quickly grabs Daphne and May’s wrists and jumps through the portal, a blinding light awaiting them.

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attendsquoi · 4 months ago

Text

Thea's Quest ~ Ch. 7

Chapter 7: Targets

Summary: Thea and Kaldur spend the day learning about computers, help Superboy pick a name, and save two countries from war.

Warnings: canon typical violence, blood and injuries

Word count: 3.5k

Thea was glad to have a day off. She needed to catch up on some of Diana’s homework and fill out a few mission reports – and of course some rest was always appreciated. But first, she had to meet Kaldur in the mission room. A week or so prior, the team had found out that Thea didn’t know how to use technology, given its habit of attracting monsters. With the help of her magical pendant she wasn’t at as much risk anymore, but she still didn’t really know how to approach electronics. Kaldur had offered to try to teach her some things on their days off, so that was where she was headed.

“Hey!” Thea called to the Atlantean as she walked into the mission room.

“Good morning, Thea.” Kaldur replied.

The two got to work, Kaldur first showing Thea simply how to gesture in order to turn the screen on.

“I’ve seen so much stuff that is unexplainable by science, and yet this feels so magical to me.” Thea said to Kaldur as she practiced.

He had opened his mouth to reply when their comms went off.

“Aqualad.” Kaldur reported.

“Red Arrow.” Came the voice on the other end.

Thea frowned. She wasn’t a fan. Red Arrow was aggressive, which she could look past, but his general distaste and distrust of her and her friends – especially Artemis – rubbed her the wrong way. She just felt like something was off about him.

“I need access to the Justice League's database and the exact height of the League of Shadows assassin known as Cheshire.” Red Arrow said.

Kaldur moved over in front of Thea to pull up the necessary information.

“Checking. Cheshire is 1.67 meters.” Kaldur said.

“Um…” Red Arrow trailed off.

Thea rolled her eyes.

“She’s 5 foot 6.” She clarified.

“And exceptionally dangerous. Do you require backup?” Kaldur asked.

As much as she didn’t like Red Arrow, Thea respected Kaldur’s kindness toward his friend.

“Please. The last thing I need is the Junior Justice League.” Red Arrow rejected.

“Just our computer.” Kaldur said sassily.

Thea couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Good luck, my friend. Aqualad out.”

~~~

After their call with Red Arrow, M’gann walked through the mission room. Thea and Aqualad followed her to the hangar to wish her and Superboy a good first day of class.

“Ready for school? I made our lunches.” M’gann said as she flew toward Superboy.

“The first day of the scholastic season carries great cultural resonance. We want to wish you both well.” Martian Manhunter said as he, Red Tornado, Kaldur, and Thea approached.

“Guess it's not a Kryptonian thing.” Superboy said sadly.

Thea felt a wave of anger at Big Boy Blue. The way Superman ignored his clone reminded her of the ways the gods ignored their unclaimed children.

Powerful people need to learn how to parent. She thought with a frown.

“Wait, Thea, why aren’t you going to school?” M’gann asked.

Thea’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, uh, I don’t go to school.” She said, unsure how to answer the question.

“What do you mean?” M’gann asked. “Surely you care about your education.” She continued.

“No, of course.” Thea said.

“Just, the last time I was in school was five years ago, and a harpy attacked one of my classmates.” She explained.

Everyone looked at her with some amount of confusion of concern.

“He was fine!” She assured.

“But anyway. I’m – uh – I’m homeschooled.” Thea said.

“You may wish to change before you depart.” Kaldur mentioned to M’gann, changing the topic.

“Ah! I spent hours choosing this outfit. What do you think?” M’gann said as she spun around, her clothes transforming out of her hero outfit and into a skirt and blouse.

“Can M'gann M'orzz pass as an Earth girl now?” She asked.

“Well…” Kaldur trailed off, unsure how to break the news.

Thea pursed her lips, holding in a giggle.

“Just kidding!” M’gann laughed.

“Meet Megan Morse.” She said, her skin changing from green to caucasian.

“What's your new name?” She asked Superboy.

“My what?” He asked.

“I chose the name John Jones for myself. And suggested John Smith for Red Tornado. You could be a John too.” Martian Manhunter suggested.

“Pass.”

M’gann – or Megan – put her hands on Superboy’s arm.

“Conner's always been my favorite name.” She said.

Superboy shrugged ambivalently, accepting the title.

Thea thought back to her most familiar Connor: Connor Stoll. Half of the set of twins who consistently lovingly made her life at camp difficult as hell.

“A last name will also be required.” Kaldur said.

“Perhaps Kent?” Martian Manhunter suggested.

“Oh, in memory of Dr. Fate, the late Kent Nelson.” Megan said.

“Of… course.” He replied.

Thea sensed something off and looked over at Kaldur. She tilted her head slightly to indicate her question. The boy winked at her. Thea’s eyebrows raised at the implication. Superman’s last name is Kent; that’s knowledge to file away for later.

“Okay, sure. I guess it'd be an honor or something.” Superboy, now Connor, agreed.

“Well, Conner Kent, time to change your shirt.” Megan said.

Connor looked down at his shirt, then back at her, confused.

“You don't wanna reveal your identity.” She explained, tapping his chest.

Connor reached over his shoulder and pulled off his shirt. Thea’s eyes widened. She may not like the boy romantically, but he was by no means an unattractive man.

“Ugh, will this work?” He asked, pulling the shirt inside out.

Megan looked like a deer in headlights.

“Works for me.” She all but drooled.

Thea put a hand around her mouth to stop herself from laughing, or at least hide her gleeful grin. Kalur glanced at her and chuckled.

“Wait, shouldn't I be Conner Nelson?” Thea heard Connor ask as he and Megan walked away.

“They grow up so fast.” Manhunter said fondly.

~~~

Kaldur and Thea took some time the rest of the morning to do some work, and make lunch. Thea really liked spending time with Kaldur. It reminded her of her early days at camp, meeting and getting to know Luke, Annabeth, and Grover – back when it all felt so simple.

Later, they returned to the mission room. Thea was slowly but surely getting the hang of using the cave’s computer, but she could always use more practice.

Again, their comms went off.

“It’s me. I may possibly be in over my head.” Red Arrow said.

After a brief conversation to plan, the call ended.

“You go ahead.” Thea said as soon as Red Arrow hung up.

“You’re not coming?” Kaldur asked, seeming confused.

“He doesn’t like me.” Thea stated bluntly. “The whole situation will be easier if I’m not there. He’s not upset by my presence and you don’t have to worry about the two of us not getting along.”

Kaldur paused, thinking over her words.

“You do not need to come if you really do not want to.” He began. “But I think we will need your help. As… abrasive as he can be, he does not hate you, and I know that his distrust is misplaced. I will not force it, but I would like you to come with me.” Kaldur said.

Thea’s posture softened.

“Okay.” She said. “But only if you don’t leave me alone with him.” She commanded.

“Deal.” Kaldur said with a smile.

~~~

Kaldur and Thea arrived in Taipei covertly. Zeta tubes meant no TSA, but Thea didn’t want to risk openly carrying her sword into a politically tense situation, so she stuck with her dagger hidden under her jacket. The two were standing in front of a podium where Red Arrow, along with Lex Luthor and the representatives from North and South Rhelasia were.

Thea felt a presence behind her.

“Get ready.” She whispered to Kaldur.

He turned around to face the disguised woman as Thea shifted over slightly, getting out of the way while making sure to watch Kaldur’s back.

“That is far enough, Cheshire.” He said.

The assailant acted innocent for only a second, before pushing a button on the tea cart she was pushing and leaping away. Kaldur pulled the water from the cups on the podium, forming a wall of water just as Red Arrow shot an arrow, setting off the bomb. Fortunately, Kaldur’s wall held, but the exertion it took was obvious. As soon as the explosion cleared, Kaldur dropped the barrier.

“It’s over, Cheshire.” Somebody said.

“You would think so.” She replied coyly.

Thea’s eyes narrowed. A helicopter carrying a group of assassins piloted next to the building.

“Take Sportsmaster. Cheshire’s mine.” Red Arrow commanded Kaldur.

“Thea–” Kaldur started.

“Protect the ambassadors?” She said, already pulling out her dagger to engage the closest Shadow.

“Yes.” He acknowledged, focusing his attention on Sportsmaster.

Thea moved quickly, focusing on the Shadows and making sure they couldn’t get too close to the ambassadors. She only had her dagger, and the Shadows were trained in a different fighting style, but her years of sword practice and combat training made her a formidable opponent. The whole time, Thea was careful. Monsters could be killed and would eventually come back – but these were mortals, and she didn’t want to murder anyone.

Thea ducked a blow from the Shadow in front of her, then kicked their leg out from under them. They fell and hit their head on the ground. Quickly another Shadow engaged her. They circled each other, each landing hits and defending against the others’ attacks. Oddly, this Shadow seemed to be pushing Thea away from the ambassadors rather than getting closer to them himself. Thea glanced over, trying to find Lex Luthor as well as her friends. The slight moment of distraction was enough for the Shadow to push Thea outside the building. As soon as her foot crossed over the threshold, the soldier spun around, heading back to the ambassadors.

“Vlakas!” She swore, realizing the trick.

~~~

Before she had the chance to run back inside, though, a sudden searing pain cut through her shoulder. She grabbed the area, pulling her hand away to see blood coming from a slice – almost like that of a small arrow. Something on the ground caught her eye and she kneeled to find a feather. She picked it up. It was a grayish color, but when it caught the sun it gleamed gold, and when she turned it to the side, it was razor sharp.

“Oh, Styx.”

It was as if her realization summoned the flock. Spinning on her heel, Thea spotted the treeline and ran for cover. It wasn’t great help though – Stymphalian birds are incredibly dangerous monsters. The mortals she ran past looked confused, but Thea paid them no mind, certain that the Mist would do its work. Thea tried not to be slowed down by the birds, even as their feathers slashed cuts in her skin.

“One monster is bad enough, but a whole swarm? Really?” She muttered under her breath as she finally reached the trees.

Of course, it didn’t stop the birds from following her, but at least she wasn’t as obvious a target, and they couldn’t shoot their feathers from above.

“Okay, Thea. Think.” She said to herself.

“Defeating the Stymphalian birds was one of Hercules’ tasks. But he used brass bells from Athena – what am I supposed to do?” The girl thought out loud.

It was too little, too late. Some of the birds had found her. There weren't as many as before, but that hardly mattered. Pulling out her dagger, Thea really wished she had her sword. One of the birds flew close – it looked like a pigeon, but bigger, and stronger – and Thea swung at it. She knocked it aside before its bronze beak could grab her, but it was only stunned for a moment. It flew back toward her, gaining speed. A pigeon shouldn’t be as menacing as a peregrine falcon, but Thea was very afraid.

This time, she had a better idea of what she was up against, and her aim held true. Her dagger sliced through the bird, turning it to golden ashes, though not before its feathers cut open new wounds on her hand.

A much worse pain shot through her abdomen. Thea looked down to find one of the other birds pecking, working its way through the skin of her stomach. She yelled, shoving forward her dagger with her injured hand, but another bird intercepted her, sending the dagger flying a few feet away.

If she made it out now, she would survive – the injuries weren’t too severe. But she was defenseless against the monsters, and she knew that without some loud noise to stop them, they would strip her to the bones.

Suddenly, a resonant boom sounded from inside the building, then a pause before more loud bangs. The lives of the ambassadors crossed her mind, but regardless, she had never been so grateful to hear a bomb and gunshots.

A few of the birds startled, and went flying away. The other, still cutting up Thea’s flesh, stayed for a moment. The adrenaline Thea got from looking down at the wound gave her the energy to kick the bird away and scream. Fortunately, it was enough for the creature to fly away after its family.

Thea slumped against a tree. From where she lay, she could see into the building, though her vision was gradually blurring. Having not prepared for a monster attack, she didn’t have her typical supplies on her. Thea pulled off her partially shredded shirt, leaving her in her sports bra, and balled it up to put pressure on her jagged wound. Her energy was draining, and nectar and ambrosia would have to wait until after Kaldur and Red Arrow found her – if they even would.

“What a way to go.” She muttered to herself in Greek, closing her eyes from the pain but trying to stay awake.

~~~

Fortunately for the young heroes, the guns Thea had heard did not maim the ambassadors, but rather an attacking Shadow. Sportsmaster and Cheshire had disappeared, but the treaty had been signed.

“I can't believe we just did a solid for Lex Luthor.” Red Arrow complained as he and Aqualad walked through the building.

“Not for Luthor, for peace.” Kaldur said, looking around for Thea and concluding that she must be outside.

“Beyond that, if Ra's and the League of Shadows wanted to sabotage the Summit, the signing of the treaty renders their contract moot. It is over.” He assured.

“Is it?” Red Arrow questioned as they stepped outside.

“I heard what Sportsmaster said. Do you really think there's a mole on your team feeding him intel?”

“I cannot rule out the possibility.” Kaldur said diplomatically.

“I will investigate quietly.” He said.

“Not tell them?” Red Arrow asked, surprised.

“I do not want the unit unraveling over baseless suspicions. And if there is a mole, I have no wish to tip him or her off.” Kaldur explained.

“Good luck with that.” Red Arrow said with a salute, turning to walk away.

“One moment, my friend.” Kaldur said.

“Tonight, you could have called Green Arrow for help or the Justice League. Instead, your first instinct was to call the Cave.” He observed.

Red Arrow paused.

“You're right. The team deserves… has my respect.” Red Arrow admitted.

“I'm still getting used to this solo act stuff. But if you need me, I'll be there.” He said kindly, moving to shake Kaldur’s hand.

The boys stepped away from each other. Red Arrow stopped suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows, looking off past the fountain. Without saying anything to Kaldur, he broke into a run toward the treeline.

“Arrow?” Kaldur called after him, but the hero was too distracted and said nothing.

Kaldur, confused, followed after him.

~~~

Thea had remained awake, but was afraid to try to get up due to the injury in her side. She saw Kaldur and Red Arrow walking out of the building, but her voice was strained and she couldn’t yell to get their attention. As much as she had her issues with the man, when Red Arrow looked over in her direction, she was relieved.

He ran up to her, having spotted her before Kaldur. When he reached her he immediately scanned her body, seeing cuts across her arms and legs as well as whatever injury she was hiding with her shirt.

“Holy shit, what happened?” He asked, kneeling next to her, lifting up her makeshift compress to view her injury before pushing it back down with more pressure.

Thea gasped at the sting.

“Did a Shadow do this to you?” He asked, concerned and confused.

She shook her head.

“Stymphalian birds.” She croaked.

“What?” The boy asked.

Thea smiled a little bit.

“Greek monsters – they’re like scary, flesh-eating pigeons.” She explained.

“Jesus.” Red Arrow muttered under his breath.

“Yeah.” The girl chuckled, moving to prop her arms behind her and pull herself up.

“Oh, hell no.” Red Arrow said, pushing her back down.

Kaldur came jogging up behind Red Arrow. His eyes widened with guilt and concern as he saw Thea in her condition.

“Thea…” He trailed off.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” The girl attempted to reassure though neither boy seemed convinced.

“We need to get you to the med bay.” Kaldur said, putting himself in leader mode to mitigate his distress.

“That’d be great.” Thea said, clenching her teeth as she shifted against the tree.

“I’ll help.” Red Arrow said, leaving no room for argument.

The boys nodded at each other, each moving down to grab Thea under her shoulders.

They pulled her up, Red Arrow keeping pressure on her wound.

“Wait!” Thea said before they could start moving.

“My dagger, it’s right over there.” She said, pointing a little ways away.

Red Arrow shouldered all of Thea’s weight, and nodded at Kaldur who stepped away to pick up the girl’s weapon.

“Thank you.” Thea said, reaching out to grab it.

“I can hold onto it for now, let’s just get you back to the cave.”

With Red Arrow and Kaldur both supporting her, the three young heroes hobbled back to the zeta tube.

“This is where I leave you. At least, assuming you’ve got it from here. If you need me, I can stay.” Red Arrow said.

“We’ll manage.” Kaldur told him and Thea confirmed with a nod.

“Arrow!” She called as the archer began to walk away.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely.

The boy smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He said.

“And, Thea? You can call me Roy.”

~~~

Kaldur had carried Thea to the med bay in the cave, helped her dress the wound in her side, and after some discussion, even got her to sit down on a gurney. The girl protested, but after seeing the worry in Kaldur’s eyes, she agreed.

“I got what you asked for.” Kaldur said as he walked back into the room, carrying Thea’s satchel.

“Thank you.” She smiled, reaching into the bag to pull out a small flask and a ziplock with small, yellow cubes.

Grabbing a piece of ambrosia, Thea took a bite. Closing her eyes, she savored the taste of her dad’s homemade sourdough. It had been a long time since she had seen – or had wanted to see – her father, but the taste never failed to make her feel at home.

Kaldur smiled at the peaceful look on Thea’s face before getting up to grab some disinfectant and cloth to clean the cuts on her arms and legs. Thea swallowed her bite and opened her eyes to watch Kaldur. In some ways, it reminded her of times she got stuck in the Apollo cabin with injuries. Kaldur’s gentleness, though, made the moment far more tranquil.

Kaldur held Thea’s wrist gently as he wiped the antiseptic over the cuts on her arm. He had a small frown on his face as he worked. Thea knew that look.

“I’m okay, Kaldur.” She murmured softly, looking at her injuries, not meeting his eyes.

Kaldur sighed gently.

“I know that you will recover. But I am still upset to see you injured, especially from an unsanctioned mission I convinced you to go on.” He mutters, a hint of self-loathing seeping into his tone. Thea grabbed his wrist gently, halting his movements. She looked up at him.

“It isn’t your fault, Kaldur. My injuries have nothing to do with the mission. This is just a… occupational hazard, I guess. Courtesy of being a demigod. I’m fine.” She insisted quietly.

Kaldur was unconvinced.

“You should have called for help. We would have helped. I…” He trailed off, unable to articulate his thoughts.

Thea sighed gently.

“I know you would have helped me. Of course you would have.” Thea reassured. “I just… I was being stupid. I forgot that I had comms in. I’m still… I’m still not used to this whole ‘having back up’ thing.” She chuckled weakly. “Usually when you get cornered by a monster… you’re on your own.” She said sadly.

Kaldur paused, face softening at her words. Thea let go of his wrist and he resumed cleaning her cuts, mulling over his next words.

“I understand that. It is… quite the transition. Learning how to work with a team.” He acknowledged softly. “But you’re not on your own.” He concluded, voice gentle but firm.

Thea smiled up at him, letting him maneuver her arm to reach her scrapes and cuts.

“No. Not anymore.” She agreed.

#kaldur'ahm x oc #luke castellan x oc #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #young justice #young justice fanfiction #kaldur'ahm #kaldur'ahm x reader #luke castellan x reader #kaldur x reader #kaldur #kaldur x oc #thea's quest

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fanfic-obsessed · 3 months ago

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Vet Bar

This is a scene I started to write that wants to be turned into a larger fic but I just can't seem to get further. So I release it to all of you, may it find it's forever home.

For thse of you who do not know this is from Umbrella Academy, season 1. It's an AU of the Vet Bar Scene after Klaus comes back: “This is a vets only bar, fella’s”

“I am a Vet”

“Yeah, where’d you serve”

“None of your business”

Klaus heard the other man step forward, in the corner of his mind he was impressed with the amount of menace the soldier was able to imbue into the rustle of cloth. He still couldn’t take his eyes off of the picture of Dave, even as Diego started to step in.

A new voice cutting his brothers' apologies off, actually drew Klaus' full attention, “Come off it Craig, look at the way he moved. The one in green definitely saw action somewhere.”

Klaus was finally able to draw his eyes away from the picture. Craig was peering at him, defensiveness slowly draining from his frame. The other man was a little older than Craig, not old enough for Vietnam, but maybe the tail end of Korea. When he saw that he had Klaus’s attention, he smiled. “Sorry about that. We usually don’t care, but there have been a couple of stupid kids about your age in lately. They keep bugging people with questions about ‘shooting bad guys’.”

Klaus snorted, “Worse than the FNG’s”

The rest of the tension drained from Craig. He gestured with his head towards the bar. “Yeah, I‘ve had to talk a few friends down from the ledge after the bastards stirred some shit up. I'll buy you both a drink. To apologize.”

Klaus shrugged and didn’t even look at Diego as he stepped forward. Diego followed with an air of suspicious menace.

The man who had intervened returned behind the bar, pulling the liquor to make three drinks. “I’m guessing however you served was fucked up and difficult to explain.”

Klaus jolted, he was having a hard time focusing on anything. His hands still felt tacky with Dave’s blood. As he rubbed his hands together he caught the eye of the unnamed barman. “Why do you say that?”

The man smiled, something sad and understanding pulling across his face. “Didn’t know until I got a good look at your face. I bought this bar from another Vet. Got all the way through fighting the Nazi’s intact before leaving half an arm in ‘Nam. He insisted that picture,” the bartender gestured at the picture of Klaus’s squad, “stay up. I’ve spent more than a few nights using it to block out the memories.”

The physical burn of the liquor was helping to ground Klaus in the here and now, though everything still felt jagged. It took a few moments for the bartenders words to parse, “Fucked up is probably the least of it.”

The bartender hummed, but thankfully didn’t ask any of the questions that must have been going through his mind. Or perhaps they weren’t. Maybe this man knew who he was outside of being an anachronism in a picture from fifty years ago. Maybe he assumed it was some strange Umbrella Academy thing.

“How long have you been out?” Craig asked, his voice softened into something careful. The pitch and tone just so to pierce his fugue, without startling him or making him defensive. It was impressive since there were days when the only thing that Klaus knew he was was defensive. Even without the war.

From the corner of his eyes he saw the flash of black that meant that Ben had caught up with them from whatever wandering he had done. The ghost was staring at the picture with Dave intently. Klaus wondered what he was seeing. If he could see the important parts without having to be told.

“Uh…a few hours, I think?” Klaus answered. From the look on Diego’s face Klaus may have missed some parts of the conversation. He could almost see Diego mentally listing what Klaus could be on.

“I’m guessing you didn’t even get the piss poor discharge speech and directions to the local VA?” Craig asked.

An ugly sound that resembled nothing so much as laughing through a mouth of broken glass escaped Klaus. “I won’t exactly have discharge paperwork, will I?” The world was going wavy again, the air starting to thin. “Not sure if there are any records of me at all, save that picture.”

Ben was moving closer, a concerned look on his face. Diego was starting to move as well, his concern masked by a facade of rage like usual. Klaus was actually surprised how long the shorter man had held off on demanding answers. The demand on Diego’s lips halted when the door to the bar flung open. Klaus was not the only one to start, hand shooting to the pistol that was not there. Craig shot to his feet, as defensive and angry as he had been. Even Diego spun to face the door, a knife in each fist. The only one who didn’t jolt was the bartender, and his hand drifted below the bar.

Green threatened to overcome his vision for a moment. Waves of camouflage creeping closer, threatening to drag him back into the jungle. Except his hands. His hands were the brownish red of drying blood all over again. Even after the washing that he had already done. His vision narrowed to a small white square on the far wall, a picture he had only discovered today. As far as he knew, the only picture still in existence with Dave’s face.

In the time it took for Klaus to clear his vision, four young men had burst into the bar.

#umbrella academy prompts #tua klaus #diego hargreeves #The Vet Bar Scene #implied Klave #but only becasue Klave is canon #fanfiction prompt

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fatesealer505 · 1 year ago

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Super uncool serious post 😞‼️‼️

I don’t know how much I can say before risking being fakeclaimed or something,,, uh this is gonna get personal but realistically speaking I expect nothing and nobody out of this so read as you will if you got nothing to do. I will most likely forget about this is an hour or so anyway.

So what have I done whole I was gone..

Nothing. Absolutely, literally, down-to-my-core nothing. I don’t mean it too literally, but my days have been recurring enough for me to no longer remember that much about my days and how they are spent. I do remember who I am on most days though.

Uh. I don’t know if it’s pure laziness or if I’m currently suffering a big burnout. I haven’t really played anything or talked to anyone and ironically enough I’ve lost sleep as well. Of course (if I said this before I apologize) I’m still keeping up with GGST and now I’m back on Skullgirls.. somewhat. As for Genshin I had to stop playing because of my storage and disinterest, unfortunately. However, I still love the characters I got with all of my heart and believe they clutched when they could.

My social battery’s just gotten so low and it’s like everything annoys me (not y’all though, I think the people I last saw on here are all wonderful), as if I have nothing and don’t like having anything either. I’ve put a lot of thought on this and how it’s ended for me - as I am simply a teenager in the countryside who “knows nothing” and also a big “know-it-all” but that aside, I’ve decided I won’t be trying to improve very much at all as that only puts a bigger risk of a worst relapse than what I am in now. I’ve made peace and accepted my situation for what it is, and I know who’s at fault, including myself.

I will not risk therapy either since my purchases are supervised and I can’t drive yet, followed by living in a very.. right-wing retirement area. It isn’t my best option nor decision, but until my bs catches up with me or I somehow survive, it might as well be the safest. That being said, I can’t confirm nor deny anything, but if someone does read this, please do not slap labels on me or assume a disorder.

I have sunken from a straight-a’s kid to a “if i pass we good” teenager, which could very well be just because of my mental development but it’s working.. I think. I don’t know, educational success isn’t giving me anything considering the state of the country, and I honestly do not think it will. Some may call it upsetting or flame me for it, but that is one of the outcomes I’ve long since accepted.

Before someone reaches out, I’m not that much of a good person. It’s nothing personal, like I said before you all seem like lovely people - I’ve just been carved (and placed by myself) into a more nihilistic mindset. I’ve tried hard but to say I am now would be a lie because as mentioned - nothing’s happened.

So, what will you do mr fatesealer 505 ???

Well, I’m gonna have to grow up. This summer, I was planning on getting a permit since everyone has their license (we’re just sophomores calm down like..) and hopefully a tiny job to keep my hands busy. If I do, this means I get to leave school early. Hip hip hooray.

What does this mean for my uploads?

I’m not sure. I’m trying to relearn digital art the best I can and luckily it seems I haven’t lost my spark in its entirety just yet. Do not assume my life-altering failures will postpone my mediocre hobby.

Despite my utter lack of every fucking thing (bless those who have stayed with me) I would like to try socializing just a teeny bit more just online. Not real-world, there are creeps my age (thank you Texas, I could not ask for better..)

Unless someone spawns and wants to talk or have me expand on my totally untubular experience, you’re free to go ahead.

I will not be changing my avatar. The silly is love and life. And so are all of you for what you have given even if I have never spoken.

Thank you.

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fates-theysband · 2 years ago

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won't you stay with me, my darling?

FALSE ALARM I AM BACK BABY!!!

anyway uh. this is the thing ive been working on for two damb weeks. anyway herein lies uno reverse cards, getting dunked on by one's work buddies, and a. uh. um. [turns and runs out of the room]

The setting sun came as a relief. Fate’s office was quiet for the first time all day–all meetings with management concluded, all calls returned, all profiles received, reviewed, and filed away. The only thing he had left to do was wait for one brief meeting that could very well be hours away. Plenty of time to think, and nothing to interrupt him.

All the better, because while his office may have been quiet (save for the occasional soft rustling of Lady Pawdington adjusting her position on his lap) his mind was not. He was all at once paralyzed with indecision, sick with dread, vibrating with anxiety, and yet giddy with excitement. It was all too much, and he considered fabricating an excuse to leave early, to retire to his quarters and at least agonize about this in a more comfortable setting.

“No,” he murmured under his breath as he recalled what sight awaited him there, resting his forehead against one hand and using the other to gently scratch Lady’s head. He’d worry the velvet right off that little box on his bedside table if he spent another night turning it over in his hands, pondering the right time or if he even should.

Maybe he’d discuss it with someone else once this last meeting was finished. He just had to wait for–

“Uh, Fate?”

The sudden sound snapped him out of his ruminations, and he looked up at the source. A small figure in an oversized robe, with cat ears and gleaming yellow eyes. Spawn #89. Rico Chatte.

“Forgive me,” Fate responded, sitting up straighter in his desk and attempting to compose himself. “I didn’t expect you to arrive quite so early. Let’s go over your conduct for today.”

“Uhhhhh-huh,” they responded, raising an eyebrow suspiciously but pressing no further. “Sure. Let’s hear it.”

He rifled through the stack of profiles he’d left on his desk for this meeting. As usual, the correct ratio of life to death, although, as expected if not appreciated, they’d completely ignored everything else he’d asked of them for this batch. But that wasn’t a cause for termination, and he was in no mood to nettle them for it tonight, so he let it slide. “As I’ve come to expect from you, everything is in order. Nothing else to really say, so, unless you have any questions for me, I believe we can conclude this meeting.”

There was a silence as the two parties stared each other down, Fate silently willing Rico to leave as they seemed to be attempting to puzzle something out. The whole scene put him in mind of the moment right before a duel, that long few seconds before both opponents draw their weapons and attack.

“Okay, spill it. You’re acting weirder than usual. What’s going on?” Rico’s question pierced the silence like a hole punch, and their tone poked just as many holes in what Fate had thought was a perfect facade of nonchalance.

The keeper of world order scoffed dismissively at the feline reaper’s accusation. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing going on. I’m simply…pondering something. Nothing you need to worry about.” Silently, he cursed himself for the slight hesitation.

“Are you kidding me?” Rico leaned forward, resting one hand on Fate’s desk and regarding him with narrowed eyes and alert ears. “The entire time I’ve worked here, the main thing I have ever needed to worry about is you pondering things. If you are pondering something, I need to know what it is as soon as possible for my own mental health.”

“The dilemma currently troubling me is not one I would consider it appropriate to ask an employee’s advice on,” Fate responded, more sharply than he intended. He cleared his throat, taking a breath to compose himself. “I apologize for the outburst. It’s a…personal matter, is all. Not to worry, I’ll figure it out on my own time. See you tomorrow.”

Rico made no move to leave, although their expression changed from accusatory to confused. “A ‘personal matter’? What, are you and Charlie having relationship issues or something? They make it seem like everything’s fine, but…”

“That is none of your business,” Fate hurriedly cut Rico off before they could say anything further. Of all the people in the Office for his beloved to have as a close friend… “And, actually, it’s quite the opposite,” he added, quietly, glancing aside and feeling his face warm slightly.

“‘Quite the opposite’, huh?” Rico said, looking (appropriately) like the cat that ate the canary. “Thinking of taking a big step?”

There was no denying it now. Fate sighed and turned back to face his subordinate. “If you breathe a word of this, especially to Charlemagne, the consequences will be dire,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah, my lips are sealed, I’ve kept a lid on juicier stuff than this,” Rico waved away the warning, rolling their eyes. “Let’s hear it.”

“Lately I have been wondering if I should…” he paused to swallow, trying not to choke on what came next. “...ask them to marry me.”

The silence descended on the room again, both parties seeming in deep contemplation. The reaper spoke first once again. “Honestly, I think you should go for it.”

The encouragement came as a pleasant surprise. “Is that so?” Fate responded.

“Yeah,” Rico confirmed. “They talk about you like you hung the moon. It drives me nuts. I can’t mention you in conversation around them without hearing about this or that sooooo cute and charming thing you did last time they saw you.”

Fate turned bright red at that revelation. “I…I had no idea they spoke of me that way.”

“They do. Frequently. I’d put a lot of darksouls on them saying yes if you popped the question. And I have.”

“It heartens me to hear that. I appreciate the encouragement. Although I do wish to warn you that office betting pools are against–”

Rico cut him off as they began backing away from his desk toward the door. “Hey, won’t do it again, I think you letting this one slide is a fair trade, I’ll get out of your hair now, go get ‘em, tiger!” They gave a final thumbs up before slipping through the door entirely, closing it behind them and leaving Fate alone in his office.

He glanced down at Lady Pawdington, who was in turn looking curiously up at him, and ran a hand over her head once again. Now if only he could think of a good place…

–

Inventory day at the Emporium was usually a lively occasion, or at least as lively as that dusty old hall could get. But today Charlie wasn’t much in the mood for banter. Too much to think about. Instead they contented themself with the calming rhythm of unpacking and repacking desk widgets, outfits, and visages into storage boxes, only faintly noticing the sounds of their employer softly humming and jotting down names and quantities.

The thoughts were burning a hole in their mind. They were itching to tell someone, but if this somehow got back to him…well, it probably wouldn’t be a disaster, but it’d definitely take the wind out of their sails (heh) to know the surprise was spoiled. And as much as they wanted to tell everyone lest they explode from having to keep their anticipation inside, there was another part that wanted to keep this fully secret, to give nobody else the satisfaction of knowing. All the same, though…a bit of advice would not go amiss. This was not something they could afford to mess up.

They decided to chance it. “Hey, Mortimer?” they asked, glancing over at the skeletal pirate sitting a few paces away. “Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

“I’d be disappointed if ye were to ask me a normal one!” Mortimer quipped in response. “Fire away.”

“So, you’re pretty worldly, right? Lot of life experience? Probably have seen just about everything?” Charlie began, twisting in their seat so the two were facing each other.

Mortimer buffed their nails (or where their nails would be, if they still had flesh) on their shirt in mock dismissiveness. “Not to toot me own horn, of course, but aye, you could say ol’ Mortimer’s weathered just about every storm there is.”

“Good, good. I’ve got a little hypothetical for you,” Charlie continued, entwining their fingers and resting their chin on them. “So, let’s say, for the sake of argument, you have this friend. And your friend has been…courting someone for a long time.”

“Aye,” Mortimer responded, sitting forward on their stool. “Don’t suppose me friend and their love interest correspond to anybody I’d know in real life, do they?” Skeletons weren’t the most expressive bunch, and yet it was somehow clear they were smirking knowingly.

“You can think that, if it helps you contextualize it,” Charlie responded with a shrug. “The point is, your friend comes to you one day with a dilemma. They would like to propose to their beloved, but they aren’t sure about a few things.”

“Well,” Mortimer put a hand to their chin in thought. “I’ve received me fair share of marriage proposals, and given a few of ‘em, so I’m happy to give ye–er, sorry, this hypothetical friend yer askin’ on behalf of –some nuggets of wisdom.”

“Great! So they’re not overly worried about the possibility of being rejected–it’d hurt for sure, but no need to count their chickens in either direction here. But I don’t–THEY don’t,” Charlie hurriedly corrected themself, “have much experience with this sort of thing. They’ve only really seen it in stories. They don’t really have the time or resources for anything big or showy, but…would it really be enough to just drop to one knee and ask?”

Mortimer seemed to ponder for a moment, before answering, “If I know the captain–and I’d say I do, I did plunder their wardrobe, after all–they’d probably rather ye do that than make a big show of it. I can picture the old sea dog keelin’ over on the spot if ye so much as asked ‘em in public!” They punctuated the statement with a guffaw.

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh in response. “You’re probably right. Wouldn’t be much of an occasion if that happened,” they joked. “I’m just nervous, I guess. You probably understand how it is.”

“Aye, that I do,” Mortimer replied. “But with the way they are around ye…well, I’ve been thinkin’ about what I’d say in me speech at yer reception for a long time.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Charlie said with a shake of the head and a small chuckle.

“Ol’ Mortimer can always tell which way the wind’s gonna blow,” the quartermaster boasted.

“I guess so.” More quietly, they continued, “You’re not gonna tell anybody, are you?”

“Nay, never,” Mortimer responded. “But I’d better get to hear how they reacted.”

“You’ll be the first to know. Swear to it.”

–

The silence in the top-floor office almost seemed to hum with anticipatory energy. Or, the sole being occupying it mused to himself, perhaps that was just projection, an attempt to reduce the weight on his mind by unfurling it and laying it across the entire room.

He’d made special preparations for tonight–no chance anyone could interrupt, no chance anything could interfere. Just him, his beloved, and the view from his office window–the night sky combined with the lights from Cosmopolis City below looked uniquely stunning tonight. Hopefully it was a romantic enough setting to warrant a proposal–anything else he could think of had felt too contrived, too obvious, too much.

Fate glanced uneasily from the window to the clock on the wall. Charlie should be arriving any moment now. They’d reacted unexpectedly when he’d asked them to meet him in his office after they finished their shift–they seemed to noticeably relax, as though something had been worrying them and he’d just given them carte blanche to forget it entirely. Then they’d said, “I’ll see you then. Can’t wait,” kissed him, and headed back into the Emporium. That had only been a few hours ago, but it felt so long ago, and the sentiment they’d expressed–can’t wait–was one he shared.

Faintly, from the small entryway just outside his office, he heard the unmistakable ding of the elevator pull him back into the moment. Adjusting the box in his pocket one more time for good measure, he took a deep breath and then strode toward the door.

–

The elevator whirred toward the top of the building, announcing with faint tones every floor it passed. Charlie still retained their floor visibility clearance, despite everything, and they wished more fervently than ever before that they hadn’t. The building was far too tall, the wait far too agonizing. It was by no means uncommon for Fate to ask them to meet him in his office once they finished their shift, but the way he’d carried himself…they’d seen him that nervous exactly once before, and it was when the two of them met for their first date.

The memory brought a smile to their face. He’d been a little late–only by a few minutes, although he’d apologized profusely nonetheless and was clearly distressed that he hadn’t been able to make the exact time. They’d wasted no time forgiving him, their worries that he would stand them up or that they’d misinterpreted his intentions fading away. They could tell whatever worries he’d had were quelled in that moment too, and the only memory of that night they treasured more than the sight of his brow unfurrowing and his lips slowly curling into a subtle smile was the goodbye.

The two of them had been standing in the elevator outside the Emporium, preparing to go their separate ways for the night. Fate was asking, with a level of verbosity typical of one who hadn’t had much experience navigating romance, if they’d like to go out with him again sometime, and Charlie, still giddy about even getting to go out with him this time, had cut him off with an impulsive kiss and a delighted “Yes!!!”

The slight jolt of the elevator halting, followed by the whir of the opening doors, cut off the reminiscing. They patted the ring box in their pocket (logically, they knew it hadn’t gone anywhere, but with how many different trains of thought they had chugging in different directions, it felt important to ensure that they hadn’t forgotten the thing entirely), and made their way toward the door. They knocked once, heard Fate respond “come in” from the other side, and pulled the door open.

There he was, standing on the other side, hands behind his back, wearing a nervous smile. The moonlight shining through the windows illuminated him beautifully, and as he extended his hand to take theirs, Charlie found themself reminded of a romance novel. Two lovers, alone under a beautiful night sky, about to pledge their eternal devotion to one another.

Or, well, they hoped that last part was true and not just wishful thinking.

Fate pressed a kiss to their hand. “Good evening, my love,” he said, in that gentle tone they could only hope he reserved for them alone. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“I could say the same for you,” Charlie replied, feeling their face warm and chuckling shyly. “Nobody better to spend such a beautiful night with. Although…the night sky’s not exactly the most beautiful thing I see right now,” they teased.

It never failed. Fate blushed harder than Charlie had ever seen before and his composure, while not completely gone, was clearly shaken. “Well…it’s interesting that you should mention the night sky,” he murmured, and though his glasses still concealed his eyes it was clear he was having trouble looking at them. “I thought it might create a…a suitable atmosphere.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. Surely he wasn’t also…they asked, “A suitable atmosphere for what?”

“There is…something I need to ask you. Something I have wanted to ask you for quite a long time.” He released their hand and reached into his pocket.

The anticipation was killing them. “And that is?”

The silence as Fate lowered himself to one knee was as agonizing as it was brief. Charlie watched with a quiet excitement threatening to burst forth prematurely as he revealed what was in his hands: a small velvet box, which he opened to reveal a ring.

“Charlemagne, will you marry me?”

The excitement, no longer premature, burst forth immediately. Through delighted giggles, Charlie answered, “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just have something to show you. You’re not going to believe this,” and fumbled in their pocket for a moment, pulling out their own ring box. Popping it open, they continued, “Fate, will you marry me?”

The two of them remained like that for a moment, staring at each other, in awe at what had just happened. Fate spoke first. “I…believe we both have our answers, don’t we?” He rose to his feet, and Charlie wasted no time throwing themself into his arms, nearly knocking the both of them to the floor.

“I love you,” they sobbed joyfully, burying their face in his chest and squeezing him tighter, desperate to get as close as they possibly could. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

Softly, Fate replied, “And I love you. Eternity is a long time, but I can think of no one better to have by my side throughout it.”

Charlie broke the embrace, pulling back just enough to reach up and pull Fate into a kiss. Eternity may be a long time, but they could happily spend all of it in this moment.

#r: curses #questionable writing tag #self ship #self shipping #selfship #This Gets The Maintag.#marriage cw

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years ago

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A STUDY IN YOU, chapter two

February 7th, 2018

Your footsteps echoed down the tile hall, three floors up and around the corner until you stood outside his door. Slightly ajar, you heard him on the phone and couldn’t help but hold your breath as you listened.

Yeah, it’s in May and they asked me to go…are you kidding me? Of course!

You heard movement from inside, pressed yourself up against the wall to avoid being seen through the tiny window that sat above his name plate. Eavesdropping? No. Overhearing before you knocked? Exactly.

But then his hand was on the doorknob as he shrugged on a jacket, eyebrows raised when he came face to face with you.

“Hey,” he said to the person on the other line. “Can I call you back? I’ve got--uh--someone at my door. Okay--yeah, bye.”

You smiled up at him, lips in a thin line when he ended the call and dropped his phone in the pocket of his pants.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you greeted. “I was just--uh--about to knock.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry to interrupt, um, I wanted to touch base about my internship applications. But, I can come back.”

He shook his head but didn’t say anything, his eyes scanned your face and you decided to keep going.

“Application deadline is April 1st for the approved sites, right?”

“It is,” he nodded, a quick thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want to come in?”

“I don’t want to keep you,” you retreated, a shake of your head in uncertainty.

“You’re not, no--I was just--going nowhere.”

He turned around, pushed the door back open and rounded his desk to sit. He opened up the laptop that he’d previously shut, typed a few things before clicking twice.

“Where do you want to apply?”

You were quiet for a second, he glanced up at you and saw the smirk on your face.

“Oh god, Y/N--both?”

CBS/Viacom, NBC/Universal.

He leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. “You’re something else.”

You felt the corner of your mouth pull up towards the ceiling in his office. “In a good way?”

“In a motivated way,” he nodded, like your words weren’t exactly what he meant but also like he couldn’t disagree. “You know how hard those internships are, right?”

“Yeah--but I can handle it. I worked at CNN as a Production Assistant for three years before undergrad, remember?”

“Yeah, no, I know--you’ve mentioned.” More typing and scrolling on his laptop. “Are you applying anywhere else?”

“If I have to.”

“A backup plan never killed anyone.”

“You think I’ll need a backup plan?” You challenged, head tilted to the side when he let out a sigh.

“No, probably not.”

A beat of silence when you kept his gaze for a second.

“You seem pretty good at getting what you want,” he admitted. “Academically, I mean.”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply. He cleared his throat and sat up straight at his desk. You were still standing, didn’t bother to sit in one of the two chairs across from him. It didn’t hurt to make him look up at you, either. Somehow it made you feel in charge.

You smiled now, aware of the tension in the room but too fueled by adrenaline to tone it down.

“I think they call that determination.”

“I think you’re right,” he nodded slowly, a quick look at you when he laughed. “You’ve looked at their application requirements? Do you have enough in your portfolio?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you shifted on your feet.

“We can go over it together before you submit, obviously. Do you need feedback on anything?”

“Not yet—I was thinking about using the mid-term project in History and Culture, though.”

Right. Television: History and Culture, the Wednesday afternoon seminar that gave you another excuse to stare at him for a few hours.

Sophie’s job at a cocktail bar near Washington Square Park meant she also signed up for the afternoon section, which you figured was just as entertaining for her seeing as she spent most of her time texting you obnoxious things: reel it in, schoolgirl, you’re drooling.

But Sophie’s other job (being your best friend and embarrassing you whenever possible) was one she took very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that she squealed in excitement when you told her about getting his number.

Call me Jason, she lowered her voice and wiggled her shoulders a few nights before, gaining an eye roll from you when you both sipped cheap beers.

“Okay, so, yeah—we’ll bookmark that one and we can meet to review your portfolio in another month or so?”

You nodded, a fleeting thought that you’d do just about anything to spend more time with him. “Perfect.”

A few nights later and you slid into a booth across from Max and sucked down your first margarita with ease. The basement bar was dim. Mozzarella sticks, nachos, anything to celebrate the end of a week and the first gathering at O’Halloran’s of the semester.

“I can’t believe it took us this long to make it here,” Max complained, stirring his rum and Coke with his straw.

“Just wait until we’re even busier next year,” Sophie rolled her eyes.

“But then we’ll actually be working in the field,” Naomi reminded, excitement threaded through her voice at the mere thought of an internship.

“I can’t believe how easy our first year was compared to this,” Max let himself slump in the booth. A worldly documentarian from Boston, 29 and thankfully bold enough to put Sophie in her place.

You’d met your three friends at a first year orientation, immediately pulled to each other as you waited in line for lunch.

The Kanbar Institute at NYU Tisch was known for an eclectic group of students of all ages: career changes, second chances, but mostly people in their thirties who were chasing the dream of a job in the film and television industry.

Gone were the days of dealing with entitled teenagers who had penthouses in the village on their parents' dime—study abroad trips and weekends on Yachts in Greenwich. Your undergrad experience had been great, but a gap year that turned into three meant while most kids were barely legal when they first stepped on campus, you were already more interested in internships and red wine than night clubs and cocaine.

“Okay, okay,” Sophie waved Max off, uninterested in hearing more complaints about the stress of starting a new semester. “What’s everyone most excited for this year?”

“You’re joking, right?” Naomi asked, a smile to the waitress who topped off your glasses of water. “Are we not all willing to commit murder to go to Cannes?”

You smiled a little, let out a laugh at the intensity of Naomi’s words. Level headed, much more responsible than your other friends. Her threat of crime told you just how coveted a spot on the trip was.

“We are,” Sophie nodded seriously, answering for all of you.

The Spring semester trip to the Cannes Film Festival for second and third year graduate students was highly anticipated. Even more highly anticipated, though, was the application and lottery drawing the department used to select the attending students.

“It sucks that you can’t just pay your way in,” Max rolled his eyes.

Sophie groaned from her spot beside you. “Not all of us have trust funds.”

“Not all of us have trust funds,” he mocked her.

Naomi held up a hand to stop the bickering, a redirection: “Do we know which faculty they’re sending this year?”

Max slurped the bottom of his drink. “I heard it’s Laurie, Will, and Sudeikis so far. But isn’t it usually five professors?”

“I think so,” Naomi nodded.

“That’s exciting that Sudeikis is going,” Sophie used her elbow to nudge you in the ribs.

“Ouch,” you pulled away from her, an annoyed look in her direction when you rubbed the point of contact.

“Why is that exciting?” Max’s brow furrowed.

“Oh come on—as if we’re not all aware that Y/N has a massive crush on him,” Sophie laughed.

“I do not have a massive crush on him.”

Naomi leaned forward to speak over the noise in the bar. “Aren’t you TA-ing for him this semester?”

You nodded. “And I don’t have a crush on him.”

“You guys know they matched on Hinge, right?”

“Sophie!” Now you reached over to elbow her into silence. “Can we not?"

Max nearly spit out his drink. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“This freak of nature swiped right on him before winter break one night for me,” you offered a glare to your friend and took the final sip of your drink.

“And then he matched and sent her a message with her final grade,” Sophie shimmied with excitement when Naomi grinned.

“It was just a joke,” you rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Max scoffed. “Oh come on—as if most women and gays around here wouldn’t hop into his bed.”

“Can we change the subject because I’m working with him this semester,” you reminded, voice a hushed whisper now when you scanned the bar. “And I would not hop into his bed.”

Debatable, honestly. Did a part of you want to? Of course. But Max and Naomi and Sophie didn’t need that type of ammunition. And besides. It was just one stupid dream and Google had been quick to reassure you: sex dreams don’t mean that much, anyway.

“Well hopefully you’ll have no issue with the Cannes lottery then,” Naomi shrugged. “A weekend in the romantic South of France?”

You slid out of the booth, empty glasses in your hands. “When I come back with refills, I really hope we’ve found a new topic of conversation seeing as we’re all adults here!”

They booed as you walked away, a rowdy show of disapproval. So you gave them the finger behind your back and chalked it up to harmless fun. The bar was crowded with other students, NYU flags hung behind the counter when you elbowed your way up towards one of the bartenders.

“Two Margaritas, one Rum and Coke, one vodka soda, please!”

“I hope those aren’t all for you,” a voice sounded to your left.

You swiveled, eyes wide and a hint of pink on your cheeks when Jason smiled down at you.

“No—oh god, no—one is, but the rest are for that pack of idiots over there,” you nodded in their direction, watching as his eyes darted over to your friends, already laughing about something else. Hopefully not at your expense.

“Ah, I see,” he nodded, a hint of an awkward smile when he brought his eyes back to you.

O’Halloran’s wasn’t exactly on the list of places you’d expect to run into him. A dive-bar co opted by students?

“What brings you here on a Friday night?” You lifted a shoulder in curiosity, felt a rush of adrenaline when he smiled in response to your question.

“Just meeting up with a friend,” he shrugged casually.

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

“Got it.”

“Much closer than Pineapple Club,” he admitted. “Though not nearly as good.”

“No way,” you agreed with a shake of your head. “This is a good spot for wings and the like. Pineapple Club is much more,” you searched for the word. “Swanky.”

He let out a laugh, looked down and picked one of his feet up off the tile. “The floors are certainly not this sticky.”

The bartender reappeared, pushing four drinks in your direction. “On your tab?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well,” Jason nodded. “Happy Friday.”

“Ditto.”

With that he leaned on the bar and ordered, you picked up three of the drinks and soon realized there was no way you were making it back to your table in one trip.

“Here--I can help you--”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll come back.”

He picked up the last drink on the counter and plucked another out of your grasp before he shrugged. “Now I get to say hello to your pack of idiots.”

You let out a laugh, flattered by his kindness but dreading the buzz he’d cause at your table. He followed you over, Sophie slid down in the booth when she smiled over your shoulder.

“Sudeikis at the local campus bar?” She smiled at him.

“I know,” he quipped as he delivered the drinks onto the table. You pushed them towards their respective owners. “Shocking that I exist outside of a lecture hall, right?”

“You strike me as the type of guy who has quite the social life,” Max narrowed his eyes at everyone’s favorite professor.

Professor Sudeikis--Jason--let out a laugh. “Yeah, well--if I’m not grading papers or dealing with phone calls from Dean Vasquez.”

“Rumor mill says you’re doing the Cannes trip this year?” Naomi glanced up at him before sneaking a peek in your direction.

Jason nodded, “yeah--that’s the plan. They’re finalizing faculty stuff now.”

“Fingers crossed we’ll get to have a rendez-vous in France, then,” Sophie flirted.

You rolled your eyes at that one. She’d rather kiss a frog than kiss a man, but as she said herself, even she could recognize a hot daddy. You almost threw up in your mouth at the word, blinked a few times when Jason looked back at you.

“Well, hope you all have a nice night. Y/N--I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

You all echoed farewells, waved him off and then you sunk down into the booth when Max whipped his head around.

“See you on Tuesday,” he teased, raising his voice an octave to impersonate yours.

“Thank God you’re not an actor,” Sophie remarked.

February 14th, 2018

You followed Jason up the stairs in Luft Hall, around the corner to his office before he set his bag down on his chair. The sun had long sunk below the horizon, he’d let out the undergrad seminar a few minutes early and promised them feedback on their first script before Tuesday’s class.

Which is why, when you walked with him towards the elevator and he mentioned a late night of script reading, you’d casually offered to help him out.

“So, want to just divide it in half and start there?” He peered at you through his glasses, traces of snowflakes on the lenses when he fished the stack of papers out of his bag.

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching out to take some. You settled into a chair on the far side of his office, one beside a small table with textbooks and paper clips. You’d visited his office a number of times: when you hesitantly knocked on the door for the first time and introduced yourself, when you showed up to finalize a class schedule.

Now, though, you glanced around the room in silence and took note of the traces he’d left. His diploma on the far wall, framed and crisp--a pack of gum near his laptop, spearmint--a pair of colorful Nikes tucked beneath his desk.

You stole glances in his direction as you both settled in, you draped your coat over your own chair and watched when he scanned through emails.

You’d always been curious about teachers growing up. In the second grade you realized Ms. Manning didn’t always wear skirts because you saw her in jeans at the supermarket.

In high school your math teacher married your science teacher and thinking about that made you and your friends scrunch your noses at the thought of them getting it on.

Something about Jason felt different. He’d always given crumbs of his personal life, but he did it in a way that made you more curious and more interested in a peek behind the curtain. Maybe it’s because this was grad school and despite the fact that you were a student and he was your advisor, you were both adults.

Or maybe it’s because you’d never had a sex dream about a teacher before.

“Mind if I put on music?” He looked over at you quickly, brows raised as he waited for permission.

“Yeah, of course, go ahead,” you nodded.

You brought your eyes back to the stack of scripts on the table. Courier font stared back at you, the names of undergrads you were starting to recognize in the center of each page. You read through three of them with ease--they were fine enough, lacking certain details or with small format errors.

Jason let out a laugh and looked up at you. “Okay--this is shitty of me to say--”

You smiled at that, he didn’t swear often in class.

“But this one is just…bad.”

“Who is it?” You giggled.

“Yasmine? I’m fairly positive she’s the girl with the neon green backpack.”

You made a face at that, rough color choice.

He cleared his throat. “Interior house, family room. A mother makes dinner in an adjoined kitchen, children do homework on the floor.”

“On the floor?” You laughed, pulling your head back in confusion.

“Not to mention the sexism of a mother makes dinner. Is it the 60s?" He thumbed through a few more pages, a look of mock horror on his face. "Oh god--and now there's a new scene with no context, it's got robotic dialogue."

He glanced up at you quickly, almost like the dimple on his left cheek was in response to your laughter. “Sorry to distract you--I just--it’s actually nice to have someone else who feels my pain of having to read all of these.”

“They’re not all bad,” you sighed. “And hopefully they’ll get better as the semester goes on.”

“True,” he nodded. “If they don’t, I’m doing a bad job.”

Quiet after that, another few scripts before a familiar sound through the speakers on his laptop.

“You know this song?” He glanced up at you from across his desk, a hint of a smirk on his face when you offered a challenging glare.

“You say that like I’m still listening to Kidz Bop—”

“No, god, I just—" he laughed. “I figure you only have faint memories of blockbuster.”

“My dad loved it too—”

“Oh, okay, ouch,” he laughed, eyes crinkling by the sides when he shook his head at you. “Thanks for the subtle reminder that I’m super old.”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed. “I’m 27,” you reminded him with a smirk. “I’m not that young.”

“Wait until you’re 42,” he laughed. “Twenty-seven feels like…decades ago.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, watched him for a second as he flipped through the remainder of his pile. “Are you hungry?”

You hesitated--you’d gotten a sandwich before the 6pm class but it was already approaching 10pm. “I can always eat.”

“Usually I order take out when I’m here late—Wok House on West 4th is really good.”

He pulled open a drawer to his left and found the folded paper menu. He leaned forward to offer it up, you stood on the other side of the room and took a few steps over.

Your fingers grazed his when you took it, you scanned the menu and felt him watching you. “Yeah--this looks great.”

So he ordered, said it was on him since he was keeping you after hours. He disappeared down to the lobby of the building to meet the delivery person, smiled when he came back into his office.

“I hope grading papers and take out Chinese isn’t the only way you’re celebrating the day.”

His forehead wrinkled when he pulled a container out of the paper bag, then realization washed over his features. “Oh shit, right--Valentine’s Day.”

You let out a laugh at the face he made, he offered you a plastic fork when you came to sit in a chair closer to his desk.

“No--yeah--I’m not a big Valentine’s Day guy.”

You saw the opening and took it. “No? No date at the Pineapple Club?”

“Ha,” he rolled his eyes. “No, not this year.”

You nodded, quiet for a second when he found a paper plate in another desk drawer--did he live out of this place?

“I hope I’m not ruining any plans you had--you know--to celebrate,” he glanced up at you quickly but didn’t hold your gaze. He scooped some chicken onto a plate for himself and then handed it over.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m not--I’m single.”

He nodded, an awkward pause when he sat back down. You were probably reading into it. Overthinking and searching for meaning that wasn’t really there. Right?

He held up his can of diet coke to clink against yours, a smirk on his face when you locked eyes. “Well, cheers to Valentine’s Day,” he chuckled.

February 25th, 2018

To: Jason Sudeikis

From: Y/N L/N

Subject: Portfolio review

February 25th, 2018 - 1:02pm

Hi Jason,

Wanted to see if you’d have time some time in the next week or two to go over my portfolio for internship applications? I think I’m in decent shape but would love your feedback. Also--might be a few minutes late to Thursday’s undergrad seminar, I have a meeting with Anne May Walter to review my portfolio and catch up, hope that’s alright.

Best,

Y/N L/N

MFA Candidate

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

(212-555-8495)

To: Y/N L/N

From: Jason Sudeikis

Subject: RE: Portfolio review

February 25th, 2018 - 4:09pm

Hi Y/N,

It might be easiest to pick a night after class to review your portfolio. Let me know if there’s a day that works best for you.

Re your tardiness to CINE-UT 712, no worries. Though I’m slightly offended that my feedback won’t be enough for you (kidding). Give Anne my best.

Prof. Jason Sudeikis, PhD

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

Office hours M/W 10am-12pm or by appointment

To: Jason Sudeikis

From: Y/N L/N

Subject: RE: Portfolio review

February 25th, 2018 - 5:43pm

Never said it wasn’t enough, just figured the more feedback the better :)

How’s next Thursday, 3/3?

Best,

Y/N L/N

MFA Candidate

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

(212-555-8495)

To: Y/N L/N

From: Jason Sudeikis

Subject: RE: Portfolio review

February 25th, 2018 - 5:57pm

After class on 3/3 is perfect. Did you apply for the Cannes trip yet? Lottery application went live on Monday.

Prof. Jason Sudeikis, PhD

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

Office hours M/W 10am-12pm or by appointment

To: Jason Sudeikis

From: Y/N L/N

Subject: RE: Portfolio review

February 25th, 2018 - 7:21pm

Awesome, looking forward it. And yes--submitted last night. Fingers crossed!

Best,

Y/N L/N

MFA Candidate

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

(212-555-8495)

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: WOWWWWW okay two chappies in one week because so many of you have been so excited and I AM TOO!!!! Hope you guys like it!

#asiy #a study in you #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis blurb #jason sudeikis x yn #jason sudeikis x you #jason sudeikis x reader

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neonlights92 · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking.

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis.

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices.

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily. She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.”

He racks his brain for her name. Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose?

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do? He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea.

“Hi…. You.” He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly.

She blinks again, this time a little more furious. Her eyes narrow after a moment.

“You don’t remember my name, do you?” She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover.

“I uh - maybe. It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever. Just get out. Jerk.”

Jungkook feels bad. Seriously, he does.

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of. He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces. He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way. And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle.

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays. This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.” She laughs a little, “Hi.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.”

Y/N. So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate. I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.” Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is. His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh… Yeah. On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place. But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.” Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing. Oh god.

He’s in love.

He has to be.

“Jungkook. You’re being ridiculous.” Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.” Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst. It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No. I’m serious, Namjoon. C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never. I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl. Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon. I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point. You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook. A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.” Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?” Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.” Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.

But he can’t help it. He needs to see Soomi again.

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?” Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.” Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants. Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face.

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung? I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again. I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else. Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.” Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious. He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N. She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second. By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning. Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares. He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own.

Jungkook grunts. He can’t really blame her.

Still. Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone. When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.” She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid. You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces. It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him. Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers. He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room. Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle. He leans towards her, conspiratorially.

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.) Jungkook knows of Jimin. He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends. That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.” She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously. He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother. We grew up together.”

“So what? You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?” She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends. I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.” Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?” Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god. You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her. Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion. Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily. Jungkook tries to read her face.

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.” Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that. Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair.

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t. I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage. I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph. Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early. He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling

Y/N: y’know.. I knew giving you my number was a bad idea

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried. Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook. So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you. Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit. Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement. Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements? I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting. You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then. Alright hawaiian it is.

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch. The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza. Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, ��You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that. I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price. Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it.

Man. Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever. And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan. Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so. Weird. Why hasn’t he seen those before? Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.” He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright. I’m kind of used to it to be honest. Always been more of a... Background kind of person.”

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter. Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go. And I’ve known her… Forever, really. So it makes sense. Someone always has to take the back seat. I don’t mind it. Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole. When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Really.”

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it. Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it. Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her. He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right. And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!”

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am. And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.” Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy? Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon? Y/N agreed to help me. It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly? You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook. What exactly am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine. But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour. It has to be. The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try. But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right? I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah. This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation. He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.” He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad. In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute. She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?” Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook. And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.” He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides. If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for. Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #imagine #jungkookxreader #smut #angst #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #e2l

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

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

(series masterlist)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

but your parents were the opposite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and apparently, so will you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how was your semester?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you okay with the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

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

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

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

never looking so... teasing and playful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you didn’t have to know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he doesn’t know when this happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he did).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but she could’t know that.

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

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

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

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

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

“do you still wanna come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“eunbi...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you miss seeing them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what? she beeped at me.”

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

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

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

“where to first, mr. park?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is this what you wanted?”

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

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

“w-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

two can play at this game mr. park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“true. it’s really good.”

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

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

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

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

“hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unless the pull was so desperate.

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

strike one:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

strike two:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n...”

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

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

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

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

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

“no. no, no, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that, and because you’re both really hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something in you tells you it’s him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“goodnight, mr. park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

get all of his stress out in the form of-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

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

“oh shit...”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

especially when it hurts students like you.

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

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

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

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud.

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek

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#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

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malleux · 4 years ago

Text

spell [2]. | corpse husband

part one ; part three

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

-> Warnings: Hate Comments, Self Doubt, Anxiety, Cursing

-> A/N: thank you for 1k notes on part one! i’m so glad everyone likes my work. it’s really nice getting this much love after taking a hiatus on my fire emblem writing blog. i hope y’all enjoy it and stay on the lookout for part three!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you joined Sean’s Among Us stream.

While that was your first public appearance, you had joined three others after that and already you were blowing up on almost every social media platform you had. The attention was kind of nice, you had to admit, but sometimes the anxiety of becoming a public figure weighed heavily on your shoulders.

During that time, you turned to your friends who were used to such scrutiny: Sean, Felix, and now Corpse, who you’ve been talking to every day for those two weeks.

It was another one of those nights where, at 1am, you were on Facetime with said man. His screen was dark, as usual. He hadn’t shown his face yet and you respected that. You didn’t need to see him to talk to him, or be his friend, or develop a slight crush on him. All of which you did.

The call was relatively silent on your end. Corpse was on Facetime with you, yes, but he was also on a call in Discord, once again playing Among Us.

You often wondered if playing that game was all your new friends did anymore.

You stayed quiet, letting Corpse play the game and avoiding his fans finding out about your call. You had college work to finish anyways, so the silence was rather helpful.

“We should ask Y/N if she wants to play. I wanna meet her.” Sykkuno’s voice rang out from the Discord call. He was right- you’d never met him. He and Corpse seemed extremely close, though, so you’d love to talk to him. A friend of your crush friend was a friend of yours.

“She’s busy tonight.” Corpse responded.

“Yeah, she’s got an exam coming up- wait, how do you know?” Sean joined in, questioning Corpse.

“Uh, I mean we’re on Facetime right now, I guess.” Your heart sped up- now his fans knew. “She’s studying. We’re just hanging out.”

“Didn’t you guys ‘hang out’ last night as well? It seems like you’re trying to take my best friend away from me.” Sean joked back.

“I mean, I definitely am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Sean was obviously kidding, but the tone in Corpse’s voice wasn’t the one he used when he was joking as well.

Felix suddenly butted in. “Ooooh, I think Corpse-y has a little crush.”

“And if I do?”

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

꧁꧂

Three weeks, now, that you’ve been talking to Corpse daily.

One week since Corpse’s crush comment and one week that you’ve endured countless mentions and tags on Instagram and Twitter, constantly talking about #CorpseY/N.

You didn’t really mind the shipping, often losing yourself in daydreams about driving those two hours down from your apartment in Los Angeles down to San Diego and running into his arms. It didn’t help when he mentioned wanting you to come visit one day.

You just worried about how Corpse felt about them. He was still relatively new to blowing up on the internet as well, his fame suddenly skyrocketing in the past few months, so you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with them. You didn’t want to bring it up, either, fearing that the discussion would make things awkward between the two of you.

For now, you were rather content with just scrolling through the #CorpseY/N hashtag, looking at the pictures and nice things people had to say about you both.

“they’re so cute when they talk to each other, you can just tell Corpse meant it when he said he was trying to steal Y/N away.”

“#CorpseY/N is my new favorite thing. Everyone shut up this is all I’ll be talking about from now on.”

“God why can’t they just be together already? #CorpseY/N”

Everyone was so supportive and sweet, it almost made you feel like you already were Corpse’s girlfriend. Although your heart hurt when you were brought back to reality, you couldn’t help but love the comments that everyone left. They were amazing.

Until they weren’t.

There are always two sides of the same coin. Along from the supporters and their loving actions, there were also those who seethed at the idea of you and Corpse.

They scrutinized everything about you to the point that you made your Instagram account- already with 30k followers- private.

Haters talked about you. Your body, your personality, how you weren’t worthy to even talk to Corpse and the rest of the Youtubers, and so much more. You’ve spent many nights with your Facetime mic muted so that Corpse couldn’t hear the small sobs coming from you.

These thoughts were almost always on the back of your mind, but you were sometimes able to push them away.

Like now- as you focused on your exam. Well, tried to focus. There comes to be a time where one can only hear so many negative things about themselves before they can’t ignore it anymore.

But alas, you tried your hardest and finished your exam, before walking out of the room and pulling out your phone. Now, you had a break before your new classes started and you’ve never been more relieved. You pulled up a certain contact and clicked on the message icon, beginning to type.

you:

i’m finished! up next, a break.

corpse:

I hope you did well. How long is your break?

you:

two weeks!

corpse:

Come spend it in San Diego

You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the offer. You really didn’t think that he’d invite you over, but you weren’t about to complain. Instead, you sent back an ‘I’ll pack tonight :)’ and rushed home to do just that.

Corpse called you as you packed, just like he calls every night. You were used to the routine now, often falling asleep around 3am as he stays on the phone, doing whatever he does with his ruined sleep schedule until you wake up and say good morning.

Tonight, however, you were too jittery to sleep. You stayed up all night with Corpse, talking about anything and everything, like usual.

What wasn’t usual, though, was how distracted he sounded. It made you nervous- was he having second thoughts about inviting you over? Was something wrong?

Your thoughts nearly overwhelmed you, forcing you to say something.

“Are you okay, Corpse?” You tried to hide the small shake in your voice.

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah, everything’s good. Why?”

“It doesn’t sound like it. What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

His side of the phone was silent for a moment, before he let out a sigh. “I’m just thinking about what I’ve got to do before you get here tomorrow. Like, cleaning and stuff.”

“Pshh, that doesn’t matter to me.” You waved your hand, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness of your room.

“It’s just that, my apartment isn’t… the best. It’s small and there’s only one bedroom and it’s kind of shitty. I just don’t want it to be even more shitty.”

“Corpse, I’m coming there to spend time with you, not your apartment. I don’t care what any of that shit looks like. I’m going to be looking at you and hanging out with you. Not your apartment.” You didn’t mean to go on a tangent of reassurance, but you truly meant all of your words. “Hell, I might not even see the apartment because I already know I won’t be able to look away from you.”

“I- God, give me a minute. That took me off guard.” He laughed. “But thank you. I may not even be able to clean because I’ll be distracted too.”

“By what?”

“You, standing in front of me, in person.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s a fucking dream come true.”

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions

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#fanfiction #x reader #fic blog #writing #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband #series #lay writes #youtubers #youtubers x reader

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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