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chronicangelca · 4 months

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Groupie

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 2963 Date posted: May 27, 2024

Summary: He’s working for an extremely secretive government organization entirely intent on destroying Superman. So which is worse: That he has a crush on a journalist, or that that journalist is also a Superman groupie?

Lex sits in a chair as far away from the center of the room as he can get, chin propped on a fist, elbow propped on a table with some largely ignored snacks on it, and knee bouncing nervously. He hates these sorts of PR events. They always remind him of his days as an unappreciated assistant, whose primary job, above using his genius intellect to build impressive new tech the likes of which the world had never seen, was making Anthony Ivo look good. At least now his job is mainly to make sure that the companies working with the government to fund his newest endeavors stay happy with the projects and don’t spill too much information publicly.

Several feet away from him, he sees two stuffy old men whose names he can’t keep straight talking to each other in hushed tones. Just as he’s pushing himself out of his chair to go check on what, exactly, they’re whispering about at this extremely public event, he bumps into someone fetching something from the snack table, sending all of the food on their plate directly into their chest. His eyes blow wide, and he scrambles to try to grab some napkins from the table while he spits out, “I am so sorry, I should have been paying more attention to-- you!”

The man across from him is at least a head shorter than him, which isn’t hard given how lanky and awkward Lex has always been. He’s almost 25 years old and his sister still insists every time that he visits her that he’ll fill out soon. His suit-- which is nice, but not remotely the right type of suit for this event, and privately Lex wonders how he got in-- is smeared with chocolate cake, potatoes, cheese, and gold flakes, dark colors and awfully textured mush marring the white button-up and khaki vest. “It’s Jimmy Olsen, right?”

Jimmy blinks up at him a few times, long eyelashes practically brushing against his cheekbones, and then smiles like nothing bad has ever happened at all. “Yeah! And you’re Alex, right?”

Lex can’t help but grimace. “It’s Lex, now,” he says, and then adds somewhat lamely, “I’m trying something new.”

“Lex… I like it!” Jimmy says, clapping Lex on the back and then taking the handful of napkins from him to start carefully dabbing at his shirt, trying to at least get some of the chunks off. “So what are you doing here? Ivo’s still in prison, right?”

He gives an awkward cough of a laugh. “I… I think so! I haven’t really kept track since he isn’t my boss anymore and everything,” he dismisses, probably more quickly than is natural. The reality is that he’s sort of the lead researcher for the team trying to figure out what, exactly, to do with Dr. Ivo. Waller figures he’s got a better shot at it than anybody else. “What about you? I didn’t think this event was open to the press…”

“Oh, I’m not here in a press capacity!” Jimmy laughs, waving a dismissive hand. “I have a pretty huge stake in the Daily Planet now and Perry didn’t really want to come, so I’m here as more of a business type of guy.” He looks down at his shirt, messy napkins crumpled up in his hand, having picked up as much as they’re going to. “Man, I think this thing’s done for.”

“Sorry,” Lex says again, rubbing at the back of his neck now. “I can cover your dry cleaning bill, if you want?” He offers. He gets a substantial stipend from the US government now for his work with Waller and Task Force X, and really, he has no idea what to spend on it anyway.

“How about you just buy me a drink? One with gold in it! I wanna hear about what you’ve been up to since our little chat at S.T.A.R. Labs. Clearly you’ve been up to something cool since you’re at this party for whatever mysterious reason you won’t tell me,” he says, throwing an arm around Lex’s shoulders like they’re old friends.

Lex’s cheeks flush as he gets basically dragged to the bar by this guy, sparing a glance to the pair of old guys. They’re not talking anymore, at least.

“Um,” he starts lamely. Lex has never really been a drinker. He pretty much only has champagne when he’s forced to come to these stupid parties, and even then, it’s mostly to blend in with the elite socialite types, so he rarely ends up drinking more than one glass. “Could my friend here get… a glass of champagne? Uh, with gold flakes in it,” he asks the bartender, who nods and immediately picks up a glass.

“Champagne with gold flakes?” Jimmy asks with raised eyebrows, looking at Lex with the most skeptical expression he’s ever seen. “That’s the best you can do? Did you even go to college?” Without waiting for an answer (not that Lex thinks it was really a genuine question), Jimmy waves at the bartender, “Hey, ix nay on the champagne. Get me two starry nights. Put it under Olsen’s tab.”

“Starry night?” Lex asks, immediately followed by, “Wait, wasn’t I supposed to buy you a drink?”

“Well, you just get the next round then,” Jimmy says with a sly grin. They’re silent until the drinks come, with Lex just staring at Jimmy like he’s an alien. The other man seems completely confident, like he’s not out of place at this sort of event at all. He’s overly friendly, too, like he thinks he can just make friends with anyone. Then again, considering the situation Lex has found himself in, he guesses that must work. Maybe he needs to start projecting more confidence… The drinks that are placed in front of them are two gradients from clear liquid into a rich, coffee brown color, with gold flakes floating throughout. “Now, hold your nose and shoot it all back.”

Lex hardly registers what’s happening before the drink is in his hand, their glasses are clinking together, and then he’s throwing his head back with his nose pinched between two fingers and pouring the alcohol down his throat. It’s not like champagne at all. It burns, and it tastes like gasoline. He almost gags, but he manages to get it down. The aftertaste is like some awful mix between cinnamon and black licorice, and he can’t imagine why college students would drink this on purpose.

“It’s bad, right?” Jimmy asks, and Lex stares at him.

“You’re the one who ordered it!”

Jimmy laughs, and the sound makes Lex’s cheeks tinge pink again, heat crawling up his face. “It’s not about tasting good,” he says, which doesn’t make any sense to Lex at all.

“Then what is it about?”

Jimmy is quiet for a second, staring into the empty glass like it has the answer. To what, Lex doesn’t know-- he doesn’t think it’s the question that he asked. He’s got a sort of nostalgic fondness on his face, like he’s remembering something important to him. Lex wants more than anything to know what it is.

“Sometimes, life is beautiful, but it tastes bad going down. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it for the beautiful parts-- gold flakes, the warmth in your gut, the people you’re with. Why waste all your time on boring champagne?”

Lex stares at him for a second. It occurs to him, somehow not for the first time even though this is only the third time they’ve met, that Jimmy Olsen must be a very wise person. He wants to know how he got to be so wise.

Jimmy beats him to the punch. “Aaanyway,” he starts, pointing an accusing finger at Lex, “what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? I mean, it’s only been a couple months, and now you’re at this fancy party for rich people and your boss isn’t even running it. Well, maybe your boss is running it. Is your boss Loren Jupiter?”

He snorts. “I don’t even know what Loren Jupiter does,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand for dramatic effect. “Look, I’m not at liberty to say too much about it, but I’m kind of working for the government now.”

The other man stares for a second, and then turns to the bartender. “Yeah, we’re gonna need more drinks.”

The next several minutes are spent with Jimmy trying to ask Lex probing questions about his new job and Lex expertly dodging them, if he may say so himself. Jimmy orders more and more drinks, until eventually the flush in Lex’s cheeks won’t go away and he can feel himself loosening up way more than he reasonably can. He has to redirect this. “Okay, enough talking about me. What about you, Jimmy Olsen? I know you work at the Daily Planet, but why? Why journalism?”

Jimmy hums in consideration for a long moment, staring into his empty glass again. “My dad was in the military and went MIA when I was a baby. Mom always said that he probably died, but I knew something else had to be going on. I kind of went down this whole government conspiracy theory rabbithole,” he laughs, but Lex can tell from the edge to it that there’s more he’s not saying. “I looked for connections in places other people didn’t. I’ve always known that the world is a secretive place, and I’ve always wanted to uncover those secrets. But nobody ever really took me seriously. I wanted to go into investigative journalism at first, but writing was never really my strong suit. So, I picked up a camera.”

They’re both quiet for another long minute. Lex watches Jimmy, sees the way that sadness dulls the light in his eyes, those eyes the color of chocolate and coffee and whatever the hell is in these drinks. It fills him with a sort of… anger, in a way that he can’t describe. The world is a secretive place-- a secretive and unjust one full of Supermen who take all the power for themselves and narcissists like Ivo who think they’re better and smarter than everyone else while people like Lex and Jimmy do all of the work. No one ever took Jimmy seriously? How dare they? How dare they ignore what Lex can see so plainly-- a genius just like him? “One day people are really going to regret overlooking you, Jimmy. I can tell.”

The smile that Jimmy gives him is half-hearted, and it twists something unidentifiable in Lex’s chest. “Well, all of that is behind me now, anyway. I have a great job at the Planet, and great friends. Lois and Clark have always believed in me. And once Flamebird blew up for my coverage of Superman stuff, the Daily Planet bought it and now I guess I… well I guess people take that seriously, if nothing else,” he says, with that same edge as his laugh earlier.

Lex wants to yell about something. He doesn’t know what. These so-called friends, who clearly haven’t supported him enough? The fact that it took Superman to get Jimmy the recognition he’s deserved from the start? That he still seems to think no one takes him seriously for anything else? Before he can even open his mouth to try to lament any of this, though, Jimmy is smiling again and jabbing him in the shoulder with a finger. “Well what about you, then? How did you start working for Ivo? I mean, why would a nice guy like you build something like the Parasite?”

Even though he’s never felt ashamed of it before, suddenly, Lex doesn’t want to admit that the Parasite armor was actually his idea. There’s something about the way that he says it that makes Lex feel like he doesn’t approve, and he desperately wants his approval. For the first time, Lex is the one who waves down the bartender and requests another round of drinks, and he waits until they’ve been set in front of them and he feels that burn down his throat for what must be at least the half-dozenth time of the night before he starts saying anything. He doesn’t think he would have the guts to tell anyone this sober.

“When I was a kid, my father used to… he wasn’t…” He grasps for the words that usually come to him so naturally, his jaw locking up. Jimmy puts a hand on his wrist and looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, like he’s really concerned. Lex takes a deep breath.

“I grew up in Suicide Slum, here in Metropolis. My parents weren’t… the best. Mom just watched while Dad used to take stuff out on us. Me and my sister, Lena. She was always sick when we were kids, wheelchair-bound when she wasn’t bedbound, and I think my parents always blamed her for the fact that we didn’t have any money. You’d think that would make me the favorite child, but it was kind of like a race to the bottom. And I didn’t want to be the favorite, anyway. I just wanted to keep my sister safe. I wasn’t able to protect her, and it made me feel so… small. That’s why I worked with AmazoTech on the Parasite armor.” He conveniently leaves out the part where he’s the one who pitched it, and where that’s what got him the job in the first place. “I don’t think anyone should ever have to go through that, to feel that way. You shouldn’t have to be Superman to protect people-- and you shouldn’t have to rely on Superman to protect people either. What happens when he decides that the rest of us are like Lena? Sick people he can blame for all his problems?” He tries not to let too much bitterness leak into his voice, sinking in on himself a little. When he looks over at Jimmy, the other man’s jaw is hanging open, and Lex can’t read his face. It makes his stomach twist up in knots.

Finally, Jimmy seems to realize that he’s staring and composes himself, mouth snapping shut. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry that you went through all of that,” he says, and his voice is so earnest. “But I think you’re wrong about Superman,” he adds, and Lex can only stare at him, chest tight again. “That’s the exact kind of thing that Superman is trying to put a stop to in Metropolis.”

“By making himself the law?” Lex snaps, annoyance leaking into his voice. “Maybe he is trying to help people-- but who is he helping? Do you really think that it’s everyone? No one can care about everyone. He certainly doesn’t care about the criminals he beats up. He doesn’t care about the people whose cars he’s flipping and whose walls he’s caving in. He didn’t care about me when he shut down AmazoTech and I lost my job.”

Contrary to what Lex might expect, Jimmy’s face softens a little. He reaches a hand out and rests it on Lex’s shoulder, and Lex’s eyes flash to it for a second. He thinks his face would heat up if it wasn’t already about as hot as it could get from all of those drinks. “You’re hurting,” he starts. “I get that. Honestly, I was once really hurt by Superman, too. It felt like he was one of the people who was supposed to be there for me, and he wasn’t, y’know? But then he was. And I think one day, he’ll be there for you, too. Maybe that’ll take some time. But I believe that.”

Lex considers these words for a minute. Is it possible that Superman could save him, just like he saves so many other people every day? Maybe. That’s not what Lex wants, though. He doesn’t need some superhero to fly in and rescue him. He wants to rescue himself. He wants to rescue the people he cares about. He wants people to know that Lex Luthor is not some weak little boy who cowers in the corner in fear, but a genius who has the power to take down even Superman. No one and nothing is ever going to hurt Lex Luthor again.

But before he can even think about saying any of that or what a bad idea it would be, the bartender announces to the two of them, “Sorry, guys. Event’s over in fifteen minutes. I gotta start cleaning the bar.” Lex stares at him for a second, and then at Jimmy. His hand is still on Lex’s shoulder, and the last thing that he wants is for him to move it. He doesn’t want to part ways at all. He wants to invite Jimmy to continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable.

When Jimmy finally does pull his hand away, it feels like the skin where he touched him is burning. “Well, I guess that’s goodbye for now,” he says with a grin, holding the hand out for a handshake. Stunned, Lex shakes his hand, staring at the shorter man for a long moment. He wants to kiss him. He knows this is a bad idea, for a number of reasons, yet he can’t stop himself from staring at his mouth.

Jimmy leaves not long after that, and Lex watches him until he’s out the door, along with half of the rest of the crowd, his heart pounding against his ribs and his stomach twisted into knots. He’s working for an extremely secretive government organization entirely intent on destroying Superman. So which is worse: That he has a crush on a journalist, or that that journalist is also a Superman groupie?

#Darla writes #DC Comics #My Adventures with Superman #Lex Luthor #Jimmy Olsen #LexJimmy #POV Third Person #Drinking #Party #Rarepair #Unrequited Crush

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kipperlillycopperkettle · 5 months

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the fact that at least one of my players in all my dnd games follows me on each account is so annoying. sometimes u wanna post ominously abt what ur planning and i can't!!!!!

#pov me having failed to talk myself out of a third game am now session planning for session one of third game #i do still have to figure out who's gonna play that one. need to fill out the party #text post tag

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tameila · 9 months

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I know that A-Side is all about the Scanlan-Kaylie/Pike Wedding shenanigans, but I wonder what B-Side is all about 👀

oooh so A-Side and B-Side are going to have concurrent story lines! In other words, they will cover the same stretch of time, but A-Side is Scanlan's POV and B-Side is Pike's. The overall theme for both stories is family.

In A-Side, we see Scanlan grappling with finding out about his daughter and him learning to juggle the new obligations and expectations that come with co-parenting while still trying to build a future with an existing partner who has her own set of needs and expectations of him (& who is also grappling with all this as well).

We haven't gotten it dropped yet in A-Side. We will next chapter! However, the Trickfoot cousins are on the scene.

So, in B-Side, we will see Pike's POV of A-Side's events but also introduce her own up-close-and-personal family dilemma as she reconnects with J.B. and the trouble that brings to her door...

and, example of how the concurrent storylines will (hopefully) work is that, in A-Side, chapter 2 ends with a denouement from Scanlan while at Sybil's apartment. In B-Side, we will actually get a fully formed scene of that night from Pike's POV, including a moment of tense but understanding connection between Sybil and Pike.

I won't spoil much else, because I really do plan to continue A-Side and B-Side as long as people keep turning up, but...here's a few snippets from my notes.... 👀

The next time Pike meets up with JB, their meeting is crashed by Astrid who fawns all over Pike (who she pretends not to know at first) and tries to play off her snooping by claiming that she thought JB was hiding a secret boyfriend or something. Astrid talks about poor Ogden, so frail and sick. (JB never mentioned because she didn’t want to burden Pike). Pike leaves in a rush but she feels terrible leaving JB behind.

Pike’s POV, Pike stands awkwardly back as Scanlan enters the house with Kaylie. Sybil and her lock eyes. Pike apologizes and says she’ll wait in the car, but Sybil invites her inside. They stand in the kitchen while Scanlan and Kaylie talk in the living room.

The fridge has photos and an old art project. There’s those magnetic letters and some of them spell out “shit” and “butts”. Pike’s lip quirk. Sybil, without looking, scrambles them before giving Pike a sheepish look. “Twelve year old humor…”

Sybil asks if Scanlan is good to her. Pike bristles but understands.

Scanlan was supposed to be home in Westruun for Winter’s Crest for the first time. However, the week before, he gets an invite from Kaylie to attend her choir performance. She has a solo. She’s very excited. Pike waves off Scanlan’s apologies and his offers to go with him. She only has so many Winter’s Crests left with Wilhand.

She’s more upset than she lets on and is mad at herself for feeling that way.

The next week, she’s surprised by Ogden and co showing up in Westruun under the guise of – through JB’s reconnecting with Pike – wanting to reconnect with Wilhand

Astrid making snide comments about Scanlan not being there that get under Pike’s skin

When Ogden makes a comment about staying somewhere, Pike is curt in telling them that they don’t have room at the house. After they’re gone, she sits with Wilhand and apologizes to him for getting short with their guests. That’s not how he raised her. Wilhand reassures her that it’s okay. He had felt overwhelmed. He was glad she was there to support him.

#WIP meme #The Sun Always Rises #also just like how the prologue for A-Side was from Sybil's POV not Scanlan's #the prologue for B-Side will be from another third party character teehee

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pochapal · 2 years

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the fact that kinzo's formal character introduction breaks form by happening in a separate narrative moment and not when battler meets/observes him for the first time in the story and the fact that kinzo is the only character for whom this is the case is. hm. weird to say the least.

#umineko liveblog #ep1 reread #so kinzo being introduced in a third person scene and not a battler pov scene raises some questions #such as who is he being introduced to if not battler?#and why is he introduced in this way?#and what about kinzo means that the pre established pattern doesn't fit with him?#like logically we as readers have to receive kinzo's character introduction #but this introduction is not coming from battler's thoughts/memories/observations but instead from the third party narrative #which is weird and bizarre when you start getting into the times and moments so far that we've broken away from battler's pov #those were kanon and shannon's first scenes and now this one #meaning that if you go by all that stuff i said in future chapters about pov/perspective #there is likely information in these moments that would be lost if relayed through battler's eyes #and yet is needed and relevant for us the reader to witness/understand #the common thread so far is that shannon kanon and kinzo are the ones positioned closest to beatrice #but what that means as to having their first scenes play out away from battler's viewpoint i am unsure of #because the hard part of umineko is figuring out if the battler pov narration is unreliable or if the third person narration is unreliable #just yeah. these three introduce themselves to the story at moments of narrative weirdness. no way this is not important

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fine-nephrit · 8 months

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🥏 TXF Fic Rec #7: 'Agunah' by Prufrock’s Love

Prufrock’s Love is known for her long, angsty historical AUs, but today’s fic is one of her shorter ones, a mid-length story set in Season 7/8 told from a psychotic stalker’s POV.

The third-party POV is refreshing and well-rendered. The established MSR is a treat, full-on smitten, satisfyingly in character, and believable in their “happy ever after with a baby” world, but not cloying, thanks to the distance put between them and us readers by the narration of a voyeur.

Although with PFL, there’s always a dash of angst mixed in with the fluff, just the perfect blend for this story.

🥏 Agunah by Prufrock’s Love (gossamer link)

Length: short, 69K / 12,000+ words (two parts combined) Season: season 7 Relationship(s): MSR established relationship Tags: baby fic, angst, fluff, third-party POV Rating: Teen/PG-13

#the x files #x files #x files fanfic #xf fanfic #msr #nephrit's fic rec #len: short #season: 7 #ship: m/s established relationship #genre: baby fic #genre: angst #genre: fluff #third party pov #rating: pg13 #by: prufrock's love

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carnasnow · 1 year

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Looking through analyses/takes that some people did with a book (not gonna tag it cause I didn't read it yet so I don't want to argue with anyone) and like. Hm. It's just interesting to look at both sides.

Like there's two groups with different takes on a character and the way some of them keep accusing each other of 'not having read the book correctly' or 'did we even read the same book??' or just getting angry at the other group for choosing to see things a certain way. Idk if that makes sense but I'm just there like ???

Like. Maybe, just maybe, it's possible to interpret things differently? It's okay to view things a certain way. I'll admit I've 'taken a side' but that still doesn't mean I can't respect the other group for viewing things differently? Idk i just hate internet discourse sometimes I guess

If only we could all discuss respectfully. I mean I do see that sometimes and it always makes me super happy and honestly, much more willing to try and understand an opinion I don't really agree with. And sometimes, even convince me

#i mean seriously there's just not just one way to view a character #and what u can like in a character someone else can dislike #that doesn't mean anyone is wrong #and the way u interpret a situation can absolutely be different too #unless something is stated by a third omniscient party everything is pretty much up to interpretation #not to be taken to the extreme obviously but simply something like #'did he mean to help them or was it for his own good?' when you don't have much context other than someone else's pov #of course people are going to interpret that differently #idk maybe what i'm saying applies more to this book #but like the fact that some things are up to the reader to interpret is what i really love about books

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sunsburns · 4 months

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good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him.

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis.

Which he didn't.

You let him win.

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together.

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise.

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one.

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right?

Right?

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief.

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker.

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you.

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette.

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips.

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you.

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art.

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back.

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you.

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin.

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past.

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread.

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room.

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too.

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair.

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see.

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you.

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath.

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back.

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head.

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face.

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly.

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you.

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips.

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below.

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes.

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own.

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache.

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction.

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake.

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you."

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips.

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer.

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop.

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger.

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch.

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard.

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man."

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm.

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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pshcomforts · 2 months

Text

➳ brought the heat back | psh.

situationship!sunghoon x fem!reader (feat. gunwook from zerobaseone)

“i’m so jealous, i’m going crazy, my patience will run out”

synopsis: sunghoon definitely wasn’t amused when coming to a party and seeing some guy talk to you.

warnings/content: written in third pov. mentions of alcohol. suggestive. little fluff. tension. possessive and jealous sunghoon (what did you expect). cursing. not proofread.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 2.7k

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: brought the heat back by enhypen

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:34 ──|───────────────── 2:22

y/n had just arrived to the dim-lit party, music loudly blasting through her ears as she moved past waves of people.

the girl struggled to find her friends as they remained scattered all around.

“damn heeseung just had to throw a huge ass party..,” she mumbled to herself, sighing softly once she realized she wouldn’t be able to find anyone.

she even sent texts, but she deemed that all had gone off of their phones for the night so she settled on a drink and time well spent of being alone.

that was until her coworker had approached her.

“hey y/n!” gunwook yelled out, grinning at her shocked expression.

“gunwook?? i never thought i’d see you here!”

the male laughed before taking a step closer to her. “never thought i would’ve either, especially when you’re alone.” he frowned, earning a playful smile to form on y/n. “where are your friends?”

“they’re off somewhere… i can’t find them honestly..,” she admitted to him.

gunwook quickly wore a grin that reflected hers, presenting a sweet expression as he said, “so.. i take it you’re alone then?”

she cocked a brow at him before the two broke out into laughter. “what do you mean by that, gunwook…?” she softly teased, breaking another chuckle out of him.

“just saying… if i’m alone, and you’re alone, we can be each others company.”

the girl tensed up for a second, stopping to process the words her coworker had just uttered out to her.

that wasn’t what she thought it meant.. right?

she glanced at the tall boy to search for what his intentions were, but given that they were just coworkers, she deemed it was nothing, so she agreed.

surely, no one would be upset with that option, right? (no)

gunwook offered to get the next cup of liquor after she downed her first, both sitting on the couch that had been crowded by others.

“why didn’t you help that customer out??” he laughed with a huge grin plastered across his face.

“because!—“ y/n yelled, pausing to sip her cup. “she looked like she would’ve much rather talked to you so i let her go to you!”

the boy sputtered out a giggle. “so you let me have your sale then?” he teased, earning a soft hit on the arm.

“well that wasn’t my intention, she just seemed more interested in talking to you so i didn’t know what else to do.” she rolled her eyes, scoffing as she remained hearing hearty laughs erupt out of him.

he let his tongue slip through his lips when he furrowed his brows and shook his head. “you could’ve just stolen that sale from me, y/n. i would’ve let you,” he sighed.

“well i’m sorry, gunwook, i thought you would’ve actually appreciated getting that sale.”

the two laughed out her play on sarcasm, unintentionally getting closer with their body movements.

just when their heads were about to bunk, a buzzing notification caught y/n’s attention and thinking it was one of her friends, she quickly glanced at it.

just a friend ‼️:

Stop getting close to him.

Do you want me to do something about it?

✩ ‘who is that guy who said hello earlier?’ ✩

her heart instantly dropped at the texts. where was he? and how did he know? she tried to scan around the area, but another notification pulled her back to her phone.

just a friend ‼️:

Looking for me?

y/n began to text back with her heartbeats getting louder by the second. her hands were softly shaking and she didn’t know what to do.

encountering jealous hoon was something that happened occasionally, but it was always minor and not noticeable enough to make it seem like they were more than friends.

✩ ‘i’m getting jealous’ ✩

‘where are you? and why are you watching me??’ — she quickly messaged back, chewing her lips as gunwook started to notice the change in her demeanor.

just a friend ‼️:

Don’t worry about where I am, pretty girl

Now get his hand off of your leg or I’ll come over and do it myself.

✩ ‘it’s weird, i don’t want to but i’m envious’ ✩

y/n felt her stomach rupture with butterflies at the possessive tone in his text. her eyes fell down to her leg and finally noticed the unintentional hand slip there.

“gunwook, your hand..,” she awkwardly mumbled, gesturing down to where it laid.

the boy quickly gasped and removed it with a blush forming on his cheeks. “oh god, i’m sorry! i didn’t know my hand was there…,” he admitted in shame. “that won’t make it awkward at work right..?”

she shook her head in reassurance and laughed at the way he panicked. “noo, you’re fine!! i didn’t realize it was there either..,” she chortled.

gunwook nodded, cheeks still flushing with embarrassment as he scratched his neck.

“sorry about that…,”

“what are you sorry for!” y/n swiftly chuckled. “you did nothing wrong, gunwook!” her hand placed itself on his arm out of habit, attempting to reassure the boy but the only thing it did was set off alarms in sunghoon’s head.

the older male who watched from afar felt his jaw tighten at the little action, eyes squinting and staring down at the two who were innocently on the couch.

✩ ‘why are you smiling at him like that?’ ✩

his hands went to his phone, typing his message out of irritation.

‘Why do you have your hand on his arm? Take it off.’

✩ ‘it feels like burning, hotter, hotter’ ✩

he glanced up with crossed arms, hoping that his girl would listen. he watched her mumble incoherent words that he couldn’t make out and soon enough, her hands slipped away from that stupid guys arms.

✩ ‘rough madness’ ✩

his lips began to curl and a smirk started to form as his gaze remained on the two, not even caring that there was a party going on.

✩ ‘it’s getting stronger, stronger’ ✩

jake even tried to offer a drink, but sunghoon declined, not wanting to feed the jealous rage that still fumed in the pit of his stomach.

but when he found that tall boy inch closer to y/n, his heart was quick to sink. he straightened himself before walking to the scene without even thinking, fists clenched and brows furrowed to display his pissed reaction.

✩ ‘i can’t stand it’ ✩

sunghoon stood before them, eyes narrowing down at the guy he couldn’t recognize.

“y/n,” he gritted out with a tightened jaw, hating the way his heart burned at this.

✩ ‘i can’t hide it, my head is spinning, crazy, yeah’ ✩

he watched how the girl instantly pieced that it was him as she glanced back. “sunghoon…,” she gulped, finally taking in the handsome features present on him.

he quickly let out a soft scoff, eyes rolled while keeping his glare directly on her.

a soft lick was made between his lips. “what are you doing, hm?” he taunted, smile slowly curling once he saw how she lowly panicked.

“nothing, hoon. i��m just catching up with my coworker.” y/n quickly excused, gesturing to gunwook, who awkwardly sat there.

✩ ‘don’t test me’ ✩

but the older male didn’t bother to glance at him, letting his attention lay completely on the girl who he wanted as his.

before he could speak, gunwook intervened with a murmur — “we’re really just coworkers, man.”

sunghoon glared back at him for a second, disbelief written on his face as he scoffed. that’s not what it looked like seconds ago when he was inches away from his girl.

✩ ‘trying hard to endure, endure’ ✩

he got a hold of y/n’s wrist, fingers tightening around while pulling her away from the scene. his nails were close to digging into her skin as his heart picked up on the jealous energy that chucked at him.

✩ ‘i’m going crazy like this, i’m going crazy’ ✩

she softly winced in pain, feeling every press of his slim fingers that wrapped around her wrist.

“sunghoon..,” y/n whispered, but he ignored her, making the girl unable to clarify that gunwook was just leaning in to remove something from her hair.

truth be told though, he almost fell weak to his knees when his name had slipped out of her mouth. his possessive demeanor nearly dropped, but only grew stronger once he realized it fueled flame to fire.

✩ ‘no, it ain’t my fault, ain’t my fault’ ✩

the inner corner of his lips curled in satisfaction before bringing her to an empty room.

the door quickly closed and y/n was slammed against it with hoon caging her to himself. his arms were securely palmed against the door as his eyes stared down at her.

“sunghoon..,” she quietly murmured out again, heart fluttering at his tall frame towering over hers.

he tilted his head with a slight brow raise in response, loving how weak she could fall within seconds of barely making contact. he leaned himself in, closing the gap between their heated bodies.

✩ ‘ain’t my fault, it’s because of you’ ✩

their lips barely grazed against each others as his breath hit her skin. “what are we doing?” y/n mumbled to him, truly confused at their situation.

sunghoon swallowed down a harsh lump in his throat, trying to find words that would answer her question. “i don’t know, y/n. you tell me,” he squinted his eyes in jealousy again. “one second you’re texting me about how we should go watch this new movie together, and the next you’re talking to your coworker who obviously likes you.”

one of his hands that laid flat against the door began to clench, turning it into a fist as he remembered just how close the boy was getting to her.

“do you like him?” he questioned, feeling his heartbeats rise with every silent second that passed.

✩ ‘don’t be confused, is it me or him’ ✩

y/n stayed quiet, unable to admit her feelings for the guy in front of her when she suddenly felt a finger hook around her chin. sunghoon pulled her attention onto him, eyes boring into hers to get a straight answer.

“tell me, pretty.” he spat, already knowing that she liked him, and not the coworker.

at this point, his lips were about to get a taste before he could even think. he was close to caving in with how her silence was saying much more than needed.

he let his top lip graze against hers again, noses bunking and foreheads almost colliding when the room began to get hotter.

“say it,” hoon whispered near her skin, faint groans slipping pass his throat when he felt her try to resist.

y/n gulped, softly biting her lips to temper herself down but couldn’t when they were so close to taking it to the next level. “i like you, sunghoon, not him.” she confessed, feeling her stomach bubble with butterflies.

his lips were quick to coil into a shit-eating grin, causing her to feel it against her skin as he murmured, “you drive me crazy, angel. you don’t even understand what you do to me.”

before she could even speak, he smashed his lips against hers, finally colliding into a much needed kiss. y/n quietly gasped, allowing more entrance for the male as her hands instantly ran to his muscular arms.

she squeezed them, trying to signal for him to pull away with how rough he moved against her, but he couldn’t stop. even if he wanted to, he couldn’t with how much he had been craving this.

sunghoon’s thick brows furrowed as he continued, loving the sweet taste her lips offered while his hands slipped down to her waist. he pushed himself closer, allowing her to melt into the harsh movements.

and once she did so, her hands quickly moved up to the messy hair that covered his forehead, softly tugging at them to stimulate his satisfaction.

he let out a soft groan, pulling back ever so slightly to take a breather with all that was going on.

y/n felt his breath fan against her skin, making her glance down at his now-swollen lips that were running pink around the edges from his initial intention to go for it.

sunghoon quickly leaned it, urging for another kiss when her hands stopped at his broad chest. “hoon, let me breathe,” she whined, earning a low chuckle.

a soft sigh left him as he wore a mischievous grin. “fine, breathe then.” he uttered out before leaning in closer to her neck.

he pressed firm kisses against it, causing a gasp to be heard from his girl. “sunghoon!” she yelled, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

the asshole only smiled, continuing to leave pecks around her neck to tease. “what? i’m letting you breathe,” he taunted with a coy tone. “isn’t that what you wanted?”

she whined at his words, still attempting to push away at his shoulders. “you better not leave anything noticeable.” she warned once she felt his vampire-like fangs begin to nibble.

a scoff immediately fell from his lips. “why? can’t i let everyone know that you’re mine now?” he growled.

when she kept her mouth shut, he let another puff of air slip by. “oh i see.” he peered into her gaze. “you don’t want that coworker of yours to know, hm?”

sunghoon quickly narrowed his eyes and poked his tongue out through his cheek. “aren’t you gonna admit it?” he asked, thumb pulling her bottom lip down.

y/n choked out, completely falling in a daze at how jealous he was. “it’s not that…,” she murmured.

“then what is it?”

“i just don’t want anything noticeable, hoon.” the girl frowned. “it’s hard to cover up.”

hoon widely grinned, raising his brows as he uttered, “isn’t that the whole point?”

she rolled her eyes and shoved his arm. “i can’t have it show anywhere, idiot, especially at work.”

“so i’m right then?” he joked, earning another nudge on the arm as he laughed. “you could’ve just admitted it, you know?”

“that’s not what i meant, dumbass!” y/n defended, now smacking his arms and giggling alongside him.

the two continued their banter until sunghoon decisively wrapped his arms around her, stopping the constant hits he was receiving.

“fine, no marks.” he huffed, muzzling his head into her shoulder. he breathed in her intoxicating scent as he tightened her closer to his chest.

“you’re mine now though, right?”

y/n laughed at his words before bringing her hands up to hit his arm. “obviously.. idiot,” she responded.

sunghoon’s lips formed a huge smile that was now plastered across his face. “good…,” his soft voice whispered — “because i hate that coworker of yours.”

“hoon, he wasn’t even doing anything that bad.”

he playfully scoffed. “so now you’re trying to defend him?”

she quickly rolled her eyes. “sunghoon! he was—“

he leaned in with a grin, pressing his lips against hers to shut her up. his hand firmly held her cheeks as he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

hoon finally pulled away after her arms wrapped around his neck.

“i hate you,” she murmured.

“as if.” his lips connected with hers again for a soft peck, unable to restrain himself.

and when he leaned in again, y/n put a hand to his chest once more. “we should go back to the party,” she said, knowing how much he wanted to kiss again.

“come on, baby.” sunghoon whined, giving a slight pout. “don’t say that.”

she giggled before shaking her head. “let’s go, hoon, before they start to get suspicious.” the girl replied.

he declined for minutes, trying to convince her for another kiss, in which she eventually gave in.

y/n planted a soft peck on his lips that lasted only seconds, leaving him to scoff.

“okay, what was that?”

“that was a kiss?” she teased.

“you know i want more than that.”

his brow raised and she only laughed before pushing the door open and holding his hand. “later, dummy. come on!” y/n quickly dragged her grumbling boy out to the party and ignored his petty behavior that came afterward.

safe to say that sunghoon was definitely gonna get another kiss that night.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

a/n: heyy… i know it’s been a while.. i’m sorry! i’m currently working and also doing a summer session so i haven’t had any time at all to write, but i’m hoping to be posting regularly again. but if not then.. you will be hearing from me once a month…

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devotedlystrangewizard · 1 year

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statistics are so much fun i just gathered all 243k words of ffxiv fic ive written (yeah i know) and put it in a table with the pov characters on the y axis and the eras on the x axis and its so interesting to see how unhinged i got about valerian

#ziero is number 1 still but with 37.3%#after that its valerian with 25.4%#& then thetis with 10.02%#out of the 26 pov characters (25 + canon characters as 1)#11 have more than 1%. THATS L3SS THAN HALF. THE CANON CHARACTERS BUNCHED TOGETHER ARE AT 0.91%#my canon azem doesnt even EXIST in this list.#i have 3 ancients on here none of them are my canon azem #i also looked who had the most words per era #ziero has most of them. makes sense shes my wol #valerian has pre-canon - post-arr & post-sb - post-shb which also makes sense #but then it gets funnier.#MILES.#thetis's reincarnation. who has 4.4%. has the most words in hw.#EVERYTHING ELSE IS ZIERO & VALERIAN #idk how long valerian will last as king of pre-canon though i have been kinda losing it with thetis #also idk if i said this before but VALERIAN WAS MEANT TO BE AN INCONSEQUENTIAL SIDE CHARACTER TO REPLACE SOMEONE IN THE MAIN PARTY #so was thetis. actually. they were a haha what if.#that post thats like 'haha what if i jokingly shipped them is ur last sign to get out'. that but with thetis's entire existence #pre-canon is also where i have the most words (37.7k) which considering the ancients brainrot. AND valerian's backstory. makes sense #second is post-ew (where i lost it with zenoswol and where the majority of ziero's pov is) and third is post-shb #where valerian loses it for several months and then comes back completely normal for the first time in like 4 years #compared to last time (2 and a half months ago) ziero's participation fell 7 percentage points.#thetis went up with 2 & valerian with 4 #miles leading in hw does make sense bc they have their post-arr arc that doesnt get wrapped up until like stormblood #and ziero...#i cant write sappy normal couples for the life of me he has his haurchewol arc in this period and i just. cant do it #theyre so... normal.#valerian murders his parents and spends the following 20 years trying to convince people that hes totally stable #thetis is kinda the the person i explore ancients with so they get a bunch even ignoring their relationships with others #autistic urge to stats

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1pepsiboy · 4 months

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Falling Asleep on the Vlog - Matt Sturniolo Fluff (request)

Matt Sturniolo x reader!

Word count: 842

POV: Third (y/n)

Warnings: nothing except caring boyfriend Matt

***

Chris and Nick are ahead of you and Matt as you all piled into the house. Nick held the camera as they continued to record. The four of you went to get the new baja blast flavor from Taco Bell. Mostly for Chris since it was his idea after he saw an ad for it. Of course, there was also a party box of tacos that came home too.

It was a long day at work for you. There were so many (rude) customers that you dealt with, and you helped with unloading the inventory that arrived. You only agreed to leave the house because Matt had to drive and you didn’t want to be alone. Being in the vlog?… That you were even less thrilled about since you looked like an absolute disaster. And your mood was not particularly cheerful.

But coming over to the house always played the game of are they recording now or no? Matt was usually pretty good about giving you a heads up. He forgot to do it this time, but you couldn’t put all the blame on him. It was just part of the deal with dating him and being around their work.

You reach the top of the stairs and Matt carefully starts to lead you toward the kitchen. You let go of Matt and your lightly laced fingers. Immediately, he turns around with puppy dog eyes. The scruff he had actually somehow made it cuter and more heartbreaking.

“Where are you going?” His voice was so soft and only loud enough for you to hear.

“No where, just want to chill on the couch till you're done.” You shoot him a small smile.

This only makes slight concern cross his face and he steps in closer to you. “Is everything okay?”

You kiss him on the cheek. “Yeah, work was a lot today and I’m just tired.”

“What happened? Your manager didn’t shit on you again, did they?”

Up to this point, you had been putting up a smoke screen, holding it together for your boyfriend and his brothers so they could get content. Without warning for either of you, tears welled up and slipped down your cheeks.

“I do s-so much… I put up with a lot from customers… no one asks i-if I’m okay.”

Matt engulfed you in a tight bear hug and stroked your hair. He whispered into your ear, “Sssh, babe. I am and always will.”

After what felt like minutes of Matt soothing you, rather than leaving you by yourself he talks to Nick and Chris over his shoulder. You tried not to listen too closely. You only focused on the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest.

He let go of his warm hug and you couldn’t help whimpering. “Babe…”

“I’m sorry, I just gotta do this one part. I’ll be over right after, promise.” He kissed your temple and gestured to the couch.

Reluctantly, you slipped into the background on the couch. It felt like they were talking about the new drink and whatever else for hours. Matt was constantly checking in on you, and it would be obvious to the fans that something was off. Hopefully Nick could magically edit out a majority of the off screen glances.

The slight breakdown and lull of scrolling through your phone made your eyelids heavy. You managed to pull the closest blanket over you to curl up in. A little while after closing your eyes, you felt arms pick you up and then both of you lowered onto the couch again.

“What?” you groaned, a light yawn escaping. “What’s going on?”

Matt giggled. “You fell asleep, babe.”

“Oh…”

Your head fell on his shoulder as Matt’s arms wrapped around your body acting like a shield. Matt kissed the top of your forehead then he rested his head on top of yours. Your eyes immediately tug close again, it was hard to fight off the prickling sleep.

“You guys are disgustingly cute,” Nick commented.

Chris aimed the camera at the two of you. “Goodnight campers!”

“Ew.” Nick scrunched his nose. “No, that was reserved for the podcast only. Don’t do that.”

“Well, now that’s over, we should start using it in the vlogs,” Chris bartered.

Nick shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“What? Why not? Come on! They love it!”

Matt flipped them off. “Ssh! End the vlog over there. Please?”

Chris jutted out his bottom lip. “Aww, Nick, he said pwease.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but then babied, “Aren’t you such a good boyfriend, Matty? Cuddling with (y/n) and defending her from us.” He reached over to ruffle his hair.

Matt swatted his hand away with one hand, attempting to not disturb you. “Yeah? This is why I’m the only one not single.”

“Oh, I’m single by choice,” Nick threw back quickly.

“Me too,” Chris agreed.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips and you snuggled more into Matt, fueling more of the fire between them.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #requests #sturniolo triplets #fluff #boyfriend matt #falling asleep on the vlog #cuddles #cuddlychristopher

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chronicangelca · 4 months

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Through Fraternity and Flame

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 2818 Date posted: April 21, 2019

Summary: "I wanted her to have a proper bachelorette party," he says, trying to be reassuring somehow, even as he thinks, Not that I really got a proper bachelor party. "You know, I think it was probably on me for inviting three people who were in loving relationships. Two of those people are even dating each other, like... How dumb can I get."

Dave knows basically the day after he proposes that he is going to have a bachelor party. John has never been particularly subtle about... well, anything, really. (He can't complain too much. He'd never have figured out Jade liked him if John had never run his big mouth about it, so it's not all bad.) So Dave asks John to be his best man and then an hour later when John asks him what his favorite alcoholic beverage is because he's "just curious" he's pretty sure he knows what's going on. (He answers that it's Fireball whiskey anyway, though.)

He, John, Karkat, and Terezi plan to go to some bar at five thirty (and he pretends he doesn't notice Jade's nose wrinkle whenever he brings it up). Karkat is the designated driver, though Terezi offers several times and actually almost tricks him once. He's one of the only idiots who has gotten into a car with her behind the wheel and he doesn't think a stern "Never again" can accurately represent his horror at the possibility of the situation.

Jade sits in his lap and kisses him breathless until they hear the knock on the door, and he practically has to pry his hands away from her sides to let her get up and answer it, sitting in the bed and watching after her while he fights to catch his breath. God, I can't wait to marry you, he thinks, biting his lip. Finally, after a minute, he pushes himself out of the bed and trails after her into the living room.

She ties his bowtie for him (and he knows how but he finds it so endearing when she does it for him) and he wants to kiss her but before he has fully formed the thought she is threatening Karkat with legal action with Terezi as her prosecutor (more terrifying than death) if he's home late and Karkat honestly looks like he's about to piss himself.

The second the door closes behind them, Karkat lets out a little sigh of relief and Terezi cackles behind him despite the fact that she can't see the change in his posture. He guesses that after knowing each other so long she must just know. "Wow, Karkat, I didn't know that you were so terrified of tiny girls saying mean things to you."

He scowls back at her. "You're fucking 5'2", yes you did." She laughs harder and all of them trail after him to the car. Dave would normally happily crawl into one of the backseats so he wouldn't have to listen to Terezi whine and pout when she couldn't hold Karkat's hand while he was driving, but she is surprisingly the one who practically shoves him into the passenger seat. "So, McSorley's?" He asks over his shoulder, glancing at John, who Dave supposes must nod because he looks back at the street ahead of him and starts driving. For how angry he is the rest of the time, Dave is always surprised by how calm Karkat is when driving. (In contrast, Dave is chill most of the time but knows how awful his road rage can get.)

He is pretty sure "two albinos, a blind woman, and a perfectly normal white dude walk into a bar" is the start to a terrible joke. (To be fair to John, he's only half-white, but boy does he look white.) He's not sure what the punchline is yet, though, and he's terrified to find out because wherever it's going it can't be good.

"We need four beers and some sort of crown or something," Terezi says to the bartender before John can even open his mouth, and Dave is already terrified. "It's this man's bachelor party! Come on!" She has no sense of volume control (and you'd think a blind woman who relies at least 25% on her sense of hearing would know how to be quiet) and so the noise in the bar seems to stutter for a second before doubling in volume as everybody cheers. Suddenly, he has people he's never even seen before coming up to him and congratulating him and asking him about his bride-to-be.

"Her name is Jade," he answers to one dude, smiling softly, and he barely restrains himself from punching the guy in the nose like he's in highschool again when his only response is "Sounds hot". John intervenes in time and drags him off to the bar, shoving him down on a stool between himself and Terezi. "I haven't really been to a bar since college!" He has to yell to be heard. John just raises a brow at him. "Jade doesn't drink! You'd think as her brother you'd know that!" John shrugs sheepishly and downs the last third of his glass of lukewarm beer in one go before gesturing at the bartender.

"I just learned that my man here hasn't been to a bar in forever! Can you get us a round of shots of Fireball and whatever the special for tonight is?" Dave pinches the bridge of his nose and just waits for the drinks to be brought to them. In the next three hours that they're at the bar, he only has two shots and the special (which is some sort of daiquiri and he has to admit that it is pretty nice) while John and Terezi finish up the rest of that round, and the next round of shots that they order (they don't even seem to notice that Dave doesn't have any), and another beer each. Not only that, but John is a notorious lightweight, so he's basically hammered while Terezi is at least half-drunk. She gets some sort of vodka soda where instead of club soda it's just actual soda, though he can't tell what it is other than some bright ass red drink.

She's only halfway through it before Karkat finally intervenes and says that they should go before John passes out and they have to fireman carry him out. (He and Dave exchange a look and a nod and push their respective idiots toward the door after Karkat sighs and drops the money for their drinks on the counter.)

"Waaaaaait!" John whines as they're all climbing into the car, and Dave has to do his seat belt for him because he can't find the buckle and really, it's fucking hilarious to watch but they actually do need to leave eventually. "It's only eight thirtyyyy! We should go out and do some more stuff!"

"And let you get us arrested for public intoxication the night before my wedding? Maybe another time bud," Dave counters, but he has to admit that he doesn't really want to go home yet. (Not that he isn't always dying to see Jade-- he is-- but he doesn't really want to interrupt whatever she and the girls are up to in case they've retreated back to the apartment even though he's positive none of them are drunk.)

Terezi is the one who pipes up with a solution, "Heyyyyyy! Let's go to the store! Most stores are ghost towns by 8:30, we'll be home free." And Dave remembers that Jade has been bugging him to get a rug for their bedroom lately (actually, basically as long as they've lived in an apartment with a bedroom that has a hardwood floor) so he looks at Karkat and nods and he just shrugs and speeds off toward the nearest Walmart.

As it turns out, the nearest Walmart is twenty minutes away (and he doesn't know how that can even be possible in such a big city but here they are), but at the very least they find parking almost immediately so John and Terezi lean against each other so they don't stumble so much when they go inside and Dave buries his face in his hands. This is the fucking worst, he thinks, running his hands up through his hair and then making a beeline for wherever Walmart keeps its rugs (only he already rarely goes to Walmart and this one is from the fucking Twilight Zone or something so he's basically completely lost).

"Daaaaave! Check it out!" John and Terezi have both put on stupid hats from the aisle that they're walking through (it's not a hat aisle necessarily but some sort of... costume aisle? In the middle of April?) and for just a moment he narrows his eyes and hopes that they'll get head lice. Then he just sighs, grabs a plastic crown with synthetic feathers on it (it looks like something that a six-year-old girl would wear to her birthday party but it's much less likely to have head lice so it's what he chooses), and puts it on his head. Karkat is not swayed.

"You guys are all idiots," he groans instead and wanders off, and oh no, oh God, he has no idea how they're going to find each other when they need to leave, fuck, Karkat come back.

Also, you know, he just left him alone with these smashed toddlers.

John grabs his arm to stop him from walking any time he sees something he thinks is cool, which is basically everything, and Dave is pretty sure he's gonna have bruises by the end of the night but it's fine, he guesses. "Duuuuuude," he says once more, snatching Dave's wrist to pull him back and then staring, mesmerized, at a desk. "Isn't this desk cool? It's a shame you don't have space in your apartment for it." Or, you know, $119.99 to blow on a desk right now.

"What! I wanna see!" Terezi says, rushing over, and John gestures for her to come over before he realizes the joke and then just pouts at her. She beams back, and then latches onto Dave's arm to lead him away from it. He supposes that because Karkat isn't here (God Vantas please come back I cannot deal with this by myself), he's the next best option to cling to.

He thinks he must spend at least an hour in this damn Walmart before he finally finds a rug that's acceptable (or, you know, a rug at all) and rushes for sweet freedom at the self-checkout before he realizes that fuck, they still need to find where the hell Karkat is. How can it be possible that such a generally loud little prick can be so hard to find?

It's another fifteen minutes before they catch Karkat, who lingers around the snack aisle, staring down a bag of jelly beans which Dave just sighs and grabs (it'd be more convenient for him personally if Karkat happened to crave them three days from now when they were on super sale but this is fine if it means he can just leave).

Finally, he throws the rug in the back of the car and it's almost ten and he's so ready to just go home until John yells, "We should go to Waffle House!" And before he can open his mouth to protest, his stomach growls loud enough that Karkat can hear it from the driver's seat and so he is dragged off to another location when he'd really just like to go home and lay down with his fiancée, for fuck's sake.

They arrange themselves around the booth in such a way that Terezi is basically in Karkat's lap because even though John could have just sat next to him, he smooshes himself into the same side as the two of them.

Terezi doesn't seem to be complaining, and by the time they've ordered and their food has arrived at the table, Karkat and Terezi are making out despite the fact that Karkat is completely sober and should know better. Dave just shovels down his waffles and eggs and wonders if he orders a coffee if that'll sober him up enough that he can just steal Karkat's car keys and drive himself home (fuck, he's already probably sober enough to drive but he's not risking the law when Terezi is right here and even if she remembers nothing else tomorrow she will certainly remember that).

"Dave have I ever said how happy I am that you're the one with my little sister," John says eventually, staring down at his strawberry crêpes like he's expecting them to reveal the secrets of the universe, but it'll be a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of thing. "Like, I guess I'm just glad that of all of the assholes on this planet she could have ended up with, it's an asshole I know and love and trust. And I do know and love and trust you, man. You're my best friend. So. Yeah. I'm glad it's you." Dave thinks somewhere in there was a compliment. Perhaps even a few. It didn't really make sense, though.

Karkat is actually the one who ushers them out of the Waffle House once all of the food is finally fucking eaten (and that must take another hour because he's sure it's at least twenty minutes before Terezi peels herself out of Karkat's lap and she's a notoriously slow eater which is only exacerbated by her drunkenness), and Dave tries to pretend it's not just because he wants to go home and fuck his girlfriend. It doesn't seem like he'll be getting it anyway, as by the time they've started driving both John and Terezi are passed out in the back seat. Karkat glances over his shoulder at them at the first red light and then looks over at Dave before he focuses on the road when they start driving. "I'm sorry your bachelor party was a total bust," he says after a long moment of silence.

His immediately instinct is to write it off. Dismiss it and say Oh, no, it wasn't a bust, it was totally great. He can't really say that in good faith though. "...Yeah. It's okay. Putting alcohol in those two was a bad idea the whole time. It was just a worse idea to not then put alcohol in me." He rolls his shoulders in something like a shrug.

"I'd say, 'I'll throw you a real one sometime to make up for it,' but since you're getting married tomorrow I can't really do that. I can throw you a regular party sometime though. Make sure to keep booze away from those menaces. Actually maybe just avoid booze as a whole." He glances over at Dave at a stop sign and then shrugs. "If that's something you want, I mean. I think if I was doing it, I'd invite Jade. Which I guess is sort of against the whole point and is probably the reason that I'm not your best man and not in charge of your bachelor's part but... I dunno, I think you'd like it more that way."

"I wanted her to have a proper bachelorette party," he says, trying to be reassuring somehow, even as he thinks, Not that I really got a proper bachelor party. "You know, I think it was probably on me for inviting three people who were in loving relationships. Two of those people are even dating each other, like... How dumb can I get." He laughs, running his hand through his hair and yawning. "I mean, there's black lipstick smudged all over your mouth." Karkat's eyes widen and it doesn't effect his driving at all, but he can imagine him slamming on the breaks to check it in the mirror and smiles to himself.

At the next red light, he does glance up at the mirror and then narrow his eyes at Dave. "Damn it, Strider. Terezi wasn't even wearing lipstick tonight."

Dave snorts. "Yeah, but it still got you."

The rest of the car ride is silent except for Terezi's soft snoring in the backseat. It is not an unpleasant silence, though. Karkat has the courtesy to drop him off at his apartment first even though John's was first on the route, which may also be because he'll likely just harbor an Egbert tonight. It's not like it's exactly easy to wake the little bastard up. He's as heavy a sleep as his sister is.

Speaking of his sister, Dave deposits the rug on the couch haphazardly and scrambles back to their room to change into his pajamas ("pajamas" just being a t-shirt and boxers, but damn it, he's comfortable) and climb into bed with her. She lets out a quiet little groan and so he brushes his lips against the top of her head and murmurs, "Hey, beautiful." He pulls the blanket over the both of them and settles into his spot. "How was your party?"

"It was good," she mumbles, voice thick with sleep, and he laughs a little bit as she wraps an arm around him and promptly burrows into his chest. "I can't wait to marry you," she adds, and he thinks warmth fills him.

#Darla writes #Homestuck #Dave Strider #Jade Harley #John Egbert #Karkat Vantas #Terezi Pyrope #Becquerel #DaveJade #Karezi #POV Third Person #Alternate Universe #Bachelor Party

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