#but I finally managed and saved some money to go on my dream vacation

[aziraphales-library]

Hi,

Could I ask for some roommate fics? A little pining is great but I'm not a huge fan of too much angst.

There is one roommate fic I remember that I'd love to find again, it was set during lockdown, and azirphale was a virgin but was talking to Agnes on zoom with plans to date. Crowley offers to teach him about sex, and it gets physical, even though they're straight buddies ..of course. 😏

Thankyou

We have a #roommates tag. Here's the one you're looking for and a few more to add...

Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one?

Tinder Dates Gone Wrong by OceanLace (E)

Aziraphale decides to take a risk and brings a man home but doesn't realize that his roommate and best friend had the same idea. Things don't turn out the way either of them were expecting but end up exactly how they wanted.

Principles of Proximity by Cannebady (E)

Crowley's plan is to get through grad school in one piece and then live his bachelor dream life. With a less-than-wholesome upbringing and no real human ties to speak of, he's made a life for himself. It's just fine, actually. And he's fine too, while you're at it. Enter new roommate, Aziraphale, who just might teach him the benefits of putting down roots.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E)

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples... Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

You Can Stay At My Place (And We Can Fall in Love) by IneffableToreshi (E)

Anthony Crowley is an art student with a heart of gold and a broad assumption about himself and his own (apparent lack-of) sexuality. When he meets literary student Aziraphale, he thinks he's found a great friend and possibly the perfect roommate. But when an exceptionally idiotic idea turns into Aziraphale reluctantly agreeing to pretend to be Crowley's boyfriend, Crowley rapidly realizes that he may not have been nearly so asexual as he originally thought...

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

- Mod D

[gavidaily]

i miss you :(( hope you're doing well!

Aw what a lovely ask 😭🫶🏻 I missed being here!!!! I’m back

[ithappensblog]

nice to meet you

Hi, I’m Jenny and welcome to my blog. In this post, I want to share with you some of the highlights and challenges of my life so far, and how I’m trying to find my purpose and happiness in this world.

I’m almost 34 years old and still struggling to figure out my life. Aren't we all? I’ve gone to school for a diploma program in Medical Laboratory Technician/Phlebotomy, a diploma program for Accounting Technician, and started my Human Resource Management diploma program too. I’ve always wanted to be an RN but, life and my body had other plans for me. I’ve always been interested in learning new things and pursuing different careers, and I've finally found one which fulfills me. I have a really good job now, but I’m not really supposed to talk about what I do so I’m going to leave that part out, but it’s finally something I’m good at and something I enjoy doing. It pays well and gives me flexibility and stability. It also challenges me and allows me to use my skills and creativity.

I have a husband who I’ve been with for 10 years now. Jason has helped me grow into a much better person and loves me unconditionally. He supports me in everything I do and encourages me to follow my dreams. I have 2 stepsons who have given me a run for my money but I still love them both at the end of the day. They are growing up so fast and I’m proud of the young men they are becoming. After an incredibly challenging fertility journey, I have my almost 5 year old daughter who is bright, caring, funny, and wise beyond her years. She is the light of my life and the reason I smile every day. I always tell her she saved my life, and it's true, but I won't tell her how until she's much older.

I have a passion for traveling and exploring new places. We try to do a big family vacation once a year and just this year decided that one trip a year should be spent nurturing our relationship. I love animals and have two dogs and three cats who keep me company and make me laugh. I’m on a journey to self love after spending my entire life as an overweight underdog. I’ve struggled with my body image and self-esteem for as long as I can remember, but I’m learning to accept myself and love myself for who I am. I have a daughter now, and I owe it to her to be kind to myself as the way I behave in front of her will be a reflection of how she treats her own body.

I live with many invisible illnesses both mentally and physically but try my best to get through every day. Some of the conditions I deal with are anxiety, depression, PTSD, OCD, ADHD, insulin resistent PCOS, Chronic Kidney Disease, chronic fatigue syndrome, migraines, and more. Yeah, I know, it fucking sucks. But, I'm definitely not here to gain pity for my health problems. By looking at me, you'd think the only problem I'd had in my life was enjoying one too many cheeseburgers. Some days are better than others, but some days are really hard. I try to be positive and optimistic, but sometimes I feel hopeless and overwhelmed. I’m grateful for the support of my family, friends, doctors, therapists, and online communities who help me cope and understand that I’m not alone.

I grew up in Guelph, Ontario and ventured back to Sudbury, Ontario after leaving my now ex-husband which was the best decision I’ve ever made. He was an interesting choice to say the least, and for the longest time I felt so trapped. It took me a long time to gather the courage to leave him, but when I did, I felt free and empowered. It was a turning point in my life that led me to meet my current husband and start a new chapter.

I’m thankful for this beautiful life I live. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. And it’s full of love, laughter, learning, adventure, growth, gratitude, and hope. Thank you for reading this post even though you're probably rolling your eyes at yet another new overnight brainchild. But I'm going to try to use this as an outlet to heal and grow from the shit life throws my way, and hopefully inspire others to do the same along the way.

[kaelea-majere]

Updated Fic Ideas List

*These are in no particular order, and while I will try to get to all of them, I can’t promise anything. Inspiration usually decides what gets written, first. The muses are fickle, after all.

-Satisfaction Brings You Back-Angels of Death-(Issac Foster x Female Reader)-The mundane drudgery of daily life is seriously getting to you. One night, while walking your dog in an abandoned park, you have a terrifying, but thrilling encounter. Desperate to relive that sweet rush of adrenaline, you dig deeper, and before you know it, you’re involved with the infamous serial killer Issac Foster. (Intended to be a shorter fic. Have written a little of the rough draft.)

-(title pending)-My Hero Academia-(Tomura Shigaraki x Female Reader)-After finally saving enough money for your dream vacation, you expect it to be perfect. Unfortunately for you, fate seems to hate you. After getting lost on your way back to your rented room, you encounter an injured man, and rush to help. Little do you know that he’s the wanted villain Tomura Shigaraki. It’s not only the police and the heroes who are after him, however. A deranged man, hell bent on revenge, and wielding a mysterious quirk, ambushes him, and you’re caught in the crossfire. One touch, and you blackout, only to awaken in a strange and desolate nether-realm, with Shigaraki as your only living company. You’re forced to work together, and brave the horrors of this place if you hope to escape. (Slightly AU as it occurs in no particular timeline. It uses the skinny, blue haired Shiggy, cause that’s my favorite version. This fic is going to be horror with some chaotic elements, and smut. There are quite a bit of things influencing it, but it’s mostly based on a dream I had).

Snow Angel-Black Clover-(Neige x Female Reader)-You’d barely begun to live your dream of exploring the whole of the Clover Kingdom when you’re captured by bandits. Using your magic and your wits you manage to escape with the clothes on your back, your grimoire, and what you believe to be your money pouch. However, on closer inspection you discover that you were mistaken, and it contains an ominous, magical artifact. Convinced that it should not fall into the wrong hands, you decide to head for the capital to turn it over to the magic knights. On the way, you’re caught in a blizzard. When your strength fails, and death looms you catch a glimpse of the angel sent to guide you to the afterlife. Except, he’s no angel; just a strikingly beautiful, but broken mage who rescues you from an untimely demise. As you recover, you find yourself falling for your unlikely savior. Is there any hope of reaching your wounded angel’s heart? Or will misfortune continue to dog your heels? (This fic has a rough draft that’s 3/4 complete.)

-(title pending)-Black Clover-(Luck Voltia x Female Reader)-Fate has deigned to curse you with a healer’s magic, and a battle mage’s soul. To fill the void, you spend your days chasing the clashes of other mages, and glutting yourself on the rumors and tall tales surrounding the infamous Black Bulls. The ultimate opportunity falls into your lap, and you’re chosen as the resident healer for your dream squad. You’d expected chaos, you’d prayed for it, but nothing could have prepared you for Luck the Cheery Berserker, and his ceaseless antics. (Rough draft 3/4 written)

-(title pending)-Genshin Impact-(Kazuha x Female Reader x ???)-On a rainy, festival night in Inazuma, you encounter a gorgeous, and slightly inebriated wanderer. You take him into your home. Moved by your loneliness and touched by your kindness, he repays you with a night of unbridled passion. In the morning, he’s gone, leaving only a note, a token, and a promise. Not long after, you’re ambushed by pirates, and must flee for your life. On the margin of a forest, you encounter a specter who leads you to a hidden beach. Overcome by exhaustion, you fall into a deep slumber, and meet a stranger in your dreams. He begs you to remove the lightless vision from the nearby grave, and take it to Kaedehara Kazuha. With your pursuers hot on your heels, you embark upon the journey of a lifetime.

-(title pending)-Genshin Impact-(Arataki Itto x Female Reader)-As a fresh, but capable new member of the Adventurer’s Guild you’re beyond stoked to travel to the newly reopened Inazuma. Upon arriving, you take a commission that turns out to be a trap. You’re ambushed by a wicked villainess who forces you into a deadly domain. The only way to survive is to brave the treacherous dungeon, and bring her the treasure at the end. By the grace of the Archons, you escape to Inazuma City. The authorities cannot help you, so you post a commission of your own, then flee to Ritou. Meanwhile, Arataki Itto is in serious need of Mora. Imitating his traveler friend, he takes a commission at the guild. Your destinies collide at the docks where he mistakes you for the bounty. He detains you, and by the time you explain that he’s got the wrong woman, and that the commission he’s chasing is the one you posted, it’s too late for you to board the last ship home. Determined to make things right, Itto agrees to aid you. A chaotic, romantic, and perilous journey awaits!

-(Title pending)-Genshin Impact-(Female Reader x Various)-If you could wish for anything, what would it be? That’s the question posed to you when you go out of your way to help a mysterious, pointy eared woman who calls herself, Alice. Full of trepidation, but too curious to resist, you follow her instructions. You awaken later, dazed and wandering through a world very unlike your own. A familiar group of men come to your rescue, and you’re shocked to discover that you’ve been whisked to Teyvat. The stoic, but kind Diluc allows you to stay in the apartment above Angel’s Share while you recover, but you have no intention of being a freeloader! Lacking the abilities of your world hopping predecessor, you decide to repay Diluc by becoming a barmaid for his establishment. Through this position you meet the characters you’d only ever fantasized about. Will love blossom, and will your wishes, really, come true? You embark upon a dating sim style adventure where you choose whose heart to chase. (This one is partially written. There will be a few, beginning chapters, followed by short character routes.)

-Mating Season-Genshin Impact- (Razor x Female Reader): A mysterious force clouds your mind, forcing you toward some unknown destination. You seem to be searching for something...or someone. When you come to, you find yourself in a vast forest, with a strange man who claims to have saved you. He offers protection, and to lead you out, but there’s a catch. You don’t know where you’re supposed to go, or how you got here in the first place. There’s also a small, but glaring issue regarding your new companion that you’ll have to face if you want to make it out alive. Traveling through Wolvendom during mating season is not for the faint hearted.(1/4 of the rough draft written. Will be a short story.)

(Title pending)-Genshin Impact-(Razor x Bennett x Female Reader)- Rumor tells of a spirit that haunts Wolvendom. It is said that if you stand at the foot of a certain tree, you might catch a glimpse of a woman, dressed in strange clothes. Sometimes she’ll be sitting in the dirt; other times, she’ll try to climb up to higher ground; but she never moves beyond the shade of that tree. If you try to speak to her, she’ll disappear without a trace! Naturally, Bennett contacts Razor, and together they go to investigate this rumor. The ghost, however, isn’t actually a ghost at all, she’s you, and you’ve been trying dozens of times to reality shift to Genshin Impact. Who knew that Bennett’s bad luck would be your ticket to success? Maybe permanently. (This is based on reality shifting, astral projection, and similar themes. Needs more fleshing out, but I have no doubt that the ideas will come in due time.)

-Not Quite Serenitea-Genshin Impact-(Childe x Female Reader)-You’re an herbalist, scraping by in bustling Liyue. On a foraging trip you encounter a ginger haired stranger, and find an antique teapot abandoned on the side of the road. You take it home, and begin to clean it, only to discover that it’s no ordinary teapot, and that your chance meeting may not have been random, after all. (Darker in tone. Soft yandere Childe, and a morally gray reader character. Partially written, but I got stuck. Hoping to get new inspiration soon.)

(Title pending)- Genshin Impact- (Chongyun x Female Reader)- The MC is an alchemist with a strange obsession with the supernatural. She creates a potion that nullifies the effects of Chongyun’s affliction so that he can finally put his skills to the test. They travel to Inazuma to take on an abandoned abode, reputed to be a den of the vilest of evil spirits. This story is going to be horror based, but with plenty of smut and romance! Chongyun, of course, will be aged up. Probably going to be on the shorter side.

(Title pending)- Genshin Impact- (Kaeya x Female Reader)- This will be a one shot. Knight MC has been assigned as Klee’s nanny, so that Jean can have a break. Naturally, she accompanies them on their yearly vacation to the Golden Apple Archipeligo. Kaeya, who’s been lusting after the MC takes full advantage of some unexpected alone time. Together they board the Waverider to drink and make merry. Kaeya tries to impress her with his silly pirate story which leads to shenanigans. This is an indirect prequel to Misfortune’s Respite, because it explains how the treasure map came to be XD ‘

[formulinos]

Hyperfixation Corner | On the Grid: 2022 French Grand Prix

Yes, the rumours are true. I went to a Formula 1 race for the first time and nothing like the (possibly) last French Grand Prix, at Circuit Paul Ricard, to pop my cherry. Naturally, I had to write a whole ass essay for this Experiénce™ to give you guys a bit of insight about my first time, so if you want to partake in my three day vacation at the south of France, featuring a bit of sightseeing and a lot of car-watching, join me after the cut! 

prologue: how did i land at paul ricard

friday: free practicing my tourist skills

saturday: fan forum of hell

sunday: scenes at the race

epilogue: a few final thots

prologue: how did i land at paul ricard

First of all, to put things into context, I wanted to tell you a bit about the chain of events that led me to the GP. I left my home country (BRASIL PENTACAMPEÃO 🇧🇷 🇧🇷 🇧🇷 🇧🇷 🇧🇷) last year to study in Paris, where I will be until 2023. It's been definitely one of the times of my life and I try to stay positive and look at the opportunities I get to have here. In all these years I have been a F1 fan, I have never been able to afford tickets to Interlagos, and I'm not kidding. It's not that my family is broke, but we're also completely unable to afford three tickets, accomodation, plane tickets and other expenses in a way that will see us last the weekend alive. And if I look at it from a solo perspective, I never had the company to go with me besides my family and, to be fair, I'd love to go with them since they never went either, they taught me everything I know about the sport and they dream of attending one day. 

note: luckily I have two homegirls now who would love to go to a GP with me, so maybe in 2023 I'll tag along with them! still hope to drag mom and aunt with me tho :)

Anyway, the point is that being in Europe, I have the money to spare from the savings we had for me to come here + the internship I've been doing for the past months. Plus, I'm alone here and will be for a good while, so I only account for myself and I'm not sucking money out of my family's finances. Another advantage is that travelling between countries here manages to be easier than travelling inside Brazil, so it doesn't really matter what was the destination as long as I could manage to land some tickets.... so of course I bought tickets for Monza in the first available opportunity.

I had looked up tickets for both France and Monaco before, but both of those started selling before I got the internship and were in theory sold out, while Monza started selling after I had the internship. Actually, scratch that, France had an offer going on for a one-day ticket + train from Paris to the circuit combo that sounded absurd from the point of view of someone who suffers from fibromyalgia and expensive from the point of view of a foreign student, so I tapped out of that one. However, imagine my surprise when I received an email from the organisers, offering me a lifeline in the form of a lanky french driver that looks like that one character from that one cartoon movie I forgot. The one where they go down the drain. You know the one.

Esteban Ocon, I wish I could kiss you. In fact, I probably could have if I had stayed later on Saturday, but more on that later. Point is I never pulled my wallet so fast and typed the wacky numbers in my card online since that one time I really wanted to get the Rose Gold Princess Peach skin on Mario Kart Online - and I didn't get it. But I did get the tickets, paid in 3x because no way I could do it all in one go. It was the end of the month after all.

Anyway, from that point onwards, I started planning the logistics. I had gotten tickets for Saturday and Sunday only, since I can't get full vacations at the moment as an intern, I would only be allowed 2 days off for each month I work. I booked those so that I could arrive on Friday at wherever I would stay, get my stuff ready for the GP, and go back home on Monday without much of a hurry to work. 

Once that was established, I needed to know where I would stay, and there were a few options of cities to stay with buses/trains to the circuit, like Marseille, Toulon and La Ciotat, but I landed in Aix-En-Provence. Lovely place, I chose it there because I had been there before last November and so I already knew how the town worked and how to get there. Therefore, I booked myself both train tickets to Aix and the Express GP bus tickets that took me from the bus station to the circuit and vice-versa. From this, I booked myself an AirBnb just 5 minutes away from the station so that I didn't have to walk much longer after getting back late at night if it was the case and voilà! All good to go, it was time to race.

friday: free practicing my tourist skills

There is something I didn't tell you about the Provence, but that you might have heard about. They have big fuckoff lavender fields you have only dreamt of. It's some White Girl Pinterest Aesthetic Moodboard shit. Since I discovered the benefits of essential oil aromatherapy in 2020, I became a certified lavender lover, and even got a few friends hooked on it as well, so visiting the fields became something to check off my list in France. 

As the slogan for the Grand Prix said, it was Le Summer Race after all, specifically at the time where the lavenders bloom - they usually are the pretty lilac flowers we know between June and August, when they get harvested. After that the fields get all cut up and the process of growth starts again. While Aix-En-Provence isn't the hot spot for them, since the big fields are in like, Luberon and Valensole Plateau, they have a lot of lavender products available in their shops and, as I discovered online, a small field in a Maison de Lavande called Terre Ugo. Since I couldn't possibly take a day tour to Luberon as I had to get ready for the GP, I decided to reschedule my tickets for 6 am (ha) so that I could visit the Maison in the morning before shopping for groceries and checking in the Airbeebee. Great plan.

I took my ass to the Gare de Lyon, a railway station in Paris where I'd take a 3-hour high speed train to Aix-En-Provence. Left the house in black pitch darkness at 5:00 am after zero sleep (I had a rough week) but I enjoyed the way. I really think Paris is at it's best when there are no Parisians out. We're safe <3

A bit of Gare de Lyon and the time I left. So extra lmao.

The trip went super well, I managed to get an hour of sleep without getting my contact lenses stuck in my eyes, so I call it a W. The way was super pretty as well as I got to see the morning rise and some cute sunflower fields.

The Aix-En-Provence train station is actually roughly 13 km away from downtown, so I took a bus to get to Aix properly. By that point it was already over 28 ºC, but I'm from Rio so of course I spent 30 minutes waiting for another bus, this time the one that would take me to the lavenders and boy..... was I satisfied.

The place smelled SO FUCKING GOOD. Aromatherapists were right, I just took some breath in and I felt the anxiety coming out. The place was pretty nicely set up, as you took a stroll there were plaques explaining the importance of the bugs that you would see around and a bit of the history of lavender, and they kept some chairs and pillows around in case you want to sit down and maybe even have a picnic! Since I had a bit of time to spare, I got myself under a tent and just took the beauty in. A friend of mine said that they weren't in full bloom and it was probably because of the extra heat in summer this year that didn't allow them to grow properly, so I think Seb is right in being annoying about climate change. 

Right after that, I got back downtown to eat literally any-fucking-where that had an AC on (something rare here in France). Ate a salad because it was too hot to even consider something else, had a very nice, very cold Coca-Cola and then forced myself to have milkshake for dessert just so I could kill another half hour. Once that was done, I went to a supermarket to buy myself some water and food for the GP the next days since I wasn't feeling like spending my time in long queues for those items. Also took a chance and bought a sharpie just in case I managed to get some autographs. More on that later, also.

Cool. Checked in the Airbnb and I'm still not sure whether it was a good place or not. It was super well located and the sofa-bed was comfy, the kitchen was brand new, but the bathroom smelled of mold, the elevator wasn't working and there was no wi-fi, which would have been acceptable if the 4G worked there. But a highlight goes to the nearly broken toilet with THIS lid:

Of course, my first visit to the supermarket was a flop because I actually bought surprisingly little food, and it was only after a nice conversation with @baku2017​ that I realised I had to get myself some proper sandwiches, so I bolted to the closest supermarket before it closed to get that and some more water. In my defence, I was completely full after eating and it was super hot, so I couldn't even consider what would hungry me be like. Food obtained, it was time to sleep and get ready for an early rise.

saturday: fan forum of hell

Not sleeping the day before ended up being great for me because I slept like a lamb drunk on beer from Friday to Saturday and I legit felt like an anime princess when I woke up. My process for both Saturday and Sunday were the same: I had the bags practically setup (only missing the water that was on the refrigerator and the fruits and sandwiches I got wrapped in the morning) and my clothes for the day were also set aside, so I'd literally just wake up, get the food done, have breakfast, shower, put clothes on, put the packages inside the bag and head to the bus station that was just 5 min away from my place. Well, I did wake up an extra half an hour early on Saturday to get my makeup ready 🤡 🤡 🤡 

i really thought Mick would sweep me away from my feet right then and there smh

Now, I have to be honest with you: I don't do traffic. I just can't, not ever since I peed my pants on the way to the beach because we were 4 hours completely stopped. It's not like there were bushes anywhere close, if I went out to pee everyone would have seen, so it got to a point where it hurt so bad my body overwrote my power of will and I pissed myself inside my godfather's car. I am firmly determined to never go through that again so I had to make sure I would get on the first bus available of the day to go to the circuit, which meant being at the station 6:30am to leave 7am.

French organisation said there would be one depart every 5 minutes from 7 to 10. In reality, what they meant was one every half an hour from 7 to 9:30 am, except on Sunday, which is when you really need the buses. In this case, it would be one every half an hour from 7:30 to 9 am. Didn't matter much to me since I was there from the get go for the first bus, but I imagine how pissed some people must have been. Bus tickets were 25 euros per day (round trip), which is cheaper than a taxi or uber there and much more guaranteed not to be in traffic, so I felt confident in my bladder to make it dry to the GP. Besides that, the seats were super comfy and there were plug outlets for phone charging and AC, which in Saturday's weather (hottest day of the weekend) was very appreciated.

bus stop, bus and the view to the gp. not a bad way to spend early morning!

After a little over an hour and no peeing, I got to the Circuit! The gate where the bus stopped at was at the same side of both my tribune and the Fan Zone, which made my walking much better. Here's a very blurry picture of the path I drew to my friends from the shitty map that was in the ticket pdf (red zone behind the main straight was the fan zone and the grey area is the bus stop). Overall, I think it took me like 15 minutes to go from one point to the other. Oh, and my tribune was in the orange zone (Virage du Pont ftw!)

As I walked to the Fan Zone, I saw a lot of stands selling team merch and food/beverages. Some of the food choices were very bold, like a whole stand of fried stuff is really for those who trust their digestive system and that don't suffer from reflux. I shuddered. But the real interesting stuff, I thought, was Village Sud, that tried to emulate the charm of the cute streets of the Provence. Tried.

clown of the year award goes to the guy who came up with the idea to add an army enlistment booth to the village. 

these were some papier maché heads that are a tradition in the carnivals of the south of france. they did some of the drivers which were creepy but the intention was nice. i still don't know if the first head is supposed to be charles or lando.

My goal for the day was to try and get a few autographs for both me and my friends in the Fan Forum. I personally wanted Seb, Fernando, Mick, Charles and Carlos, while the laid ease wanted Zhou, Yuki, Lance and Daniel. So, I knew it was key to get there as early as possible so I could stay the closest to the rail and hope for the best. Of course it wasn't enough as some lunatics were there since 7 am, but I was still close enough to try. At the very least, close enough to look at them.

The original schedule had two Fan Forums, one in the morning (9h30 to 10h30) and one after quali (19h to 20h). So, naturally, they did two in the morning (10h10 and 11h40) and another after quali (19h to 19h30). This probably had to do with the fact that Haas and Ferrari, which were slotted for post-quali appearances ended up actually being the first teams to show up. So, our lineup for the morning was: Haas, Ferrari, Mercedes, Red Bull, W*lliams, McLaren and Alpine. A girl grabbed my hat to try to get some autographs, but it was practically impossible with all the front row competition, so I honestly just considered it fun to be there, listen to the drivers and feel the ambiance (great mood all around in spite of the heat!). Here are some screenshots of the videos I made:

sir lewis (george came right after, they did their interviews separated somehow), mick (kmag was there, just a bad angle), SCUDERIA FERRARI, red bull, alpine and mclaren

My personal highlights are: 

- Haas: Mick hearing the french crowd scream "PARLEZ FRANÇAIS" and then doing a good chunk of his interview in french just for us. Crowd went wild, panties went wet - Ferrari: EVERYTHING. Crowd went crazy everytime Charles talked and cheered him like insane, people started cheering Carlos up when he said he felt Saturday wouldn't be as nice for him because of the penalty and that he'd have to try a bit more on Sunday - Lewis: I honestly fell in love with the guy. I don't know what he has but it's something. Super fit and the way he talks is just like, I know he says that to everyone but he makes you believe you are indeed the best crowd he has ever seen. Lovely smile and he always makes a point of talking not just about himself but to include either the team or the fans. Guy trains his ego in the gym every morning to keep it in check probably. Still haven't forgiven him for 2008 but I'm glad I called the truce in 2020. - Red Bull: THE MESS HAHAHAH. Checo looked out of it IMO, like he waved and thanked the guys who were there for him but a bit dismissively. I can say many things about Super Max and I will if you ask me, but he looked more engaged in the conversation and tried to give nice answers, so he gets a few points for that. Funniest thing was that after they were over, they didn't come down the center to do autographs for people, which was such a dick move because the Team Checo guys were RIGHT THERE and from my side there were three guys waving Max's helmet replica and merch for him to sign. Crowd began booing (which wasn't hard because actually apparently people really don't like Max there? I thought people would love him more considering he is the reining champion) so Ariana Bravo had to say "hey we don't do this here!" which led to more booing because how dare you tell the French what to do. I didn't get too mad because I think if I was Max and I knew only three people liked me I would leave too. - Alpine: Felt really, really good to see Ocon being so well received. Gasly is still the apple of the French's eyes but Ocon was cheered as a hero, which makes sense when you consider he is now a Grand Prix winner with THE French team, but when you see the media's portrayal of him as a bit of a black sheep in contrast with Gasly being the ignored Crown Prince, it just felt great to see him being hit with the love. Alonso was in a great mood too and did his whole interview in French, which drove people wild. If Ocon is a hero there, then Alonso is the greatest of them all, as 2-times champion with Renault. People will never forget that and I'm sure Fernando just LOVES it, as he should and he deserves! Also I confess that it was here the only time I was like "wow, he really is short" because even when you consider that anyone looks short close to Ocon, Fernando seems smaller than in his pics.  - McLaren: Lando has a weird sense of humour that led him to say he hoped to specifically beat Alpine in this race and people *almost* booed before they started laughing and everyone realised it was a joke hahaha. Daniel honestly has some sort of attention span issue because he tried to answer his questions but he would just go like "hey I can say anything in French and make the crowd go wild watch this". At some point he just Pierre......... GASLY! two times in a row. I just wanted to hear him say some actual words lmao - W*lliams: when they left.

Fan Forum I done, I headed back to the Tribune Esteban Ocon, located at the Virage du Pont, aka turn 15, last of the circuit. It's there where cars enter the pit lane and speed down before starting a fast lap in quali, amongst others. While it's not usual to see overtakes there, you can see them get ready to attack and activate DRS. Overall, while you can't see the entire circuit, you can see the cars, which is not bad at all for the first time. You can also see a bit of the pit lane and the motorhomes!

some of the pictures might have chromatic aberration because of the zoom lenses I was using attached to my phone. don't mind me! not in the motorhome picture, but I could also see Mercedes' motorhome to the right of Red Bull's

Important to note: If you ask me anything about what the racing was like, objectively, I have no clue. FP3 came and went and it was just a vibe seeing the cars go in and out and do their cheeky laps. Honestly couldn't tell if Red Bull had good pace or if Aston Martin were going to flop again, I was just like. "Car go Brr" 

see what I told you about the pit lane? so cool! (FP3)

I think FP3 might have been my favourite session out of the three. While I usually just vibe with it when I'm at home, in there it felt like qualifying but without the stakes, which was much more enjoyable. People were cheering whenever their favourite driver passed in front of them and even more when they improved their lap times. It was completely insane to cheer for the fastest lap in a practice section yet that was exactly what was happening. It was like the driving equivalent of the guy skating while drinking juice and singing along to Dreams tiktok

W Series.... I don't want to talk about it much, but well. The cars are really freaking slow, to the point where they really stand out from the F1 and F2 races that are held on the same weekend. Fair, I suppose, as they are supposedly F3 cars, but I also don't watch F3 for the same reason. I feel that since most of the W Series drivers have a lot of experience they could do with better cars, which sucks because they end up looking amateur, even more when they have race incidents (in fact, there were two safety cars in a 30 min race). There is still a lot to be made to properly encourage race growth, and a few suggestion I have are: age limit to maximise chances of the girls going ahead to F3/F2 posts and the champion prize should be enough to fund them into an F3 team as well; they should also consider having the same champion rule as F2 that the winner doesn't get to remain in it for the next season - kinda sucks for Chadwick since she didn't manage to get a seat in another Formula series but it's probably the third championship for her in a road, so it's time to go, really; Maybe an investment that could be made is a team with woman drivers in both F3 and F2. Might never win it but it could be nice to showcase young talents. That being said I don't grieve any of the W Series drivers or organisers and if anything they are all doing what people kept them from doing for years. Good for them!!!

Quali came and it was ELECTRIFYING. I usually dread qualis because I just don't have it in me not to be anxious ever and the time constraint and high stakes just get me, but I was in the mood! I was sincerely happy! Again, don't ask me what actually happened during it, I had no clue Carlos had given Charles a tow because I was just like "GO CHAAAAAARLEEEEES GOOOOOOOOO" screaming like a mad woman. I was just thankful we got the pole and it was so, so FUCKING COOL how you could feel the whole place shaking because France is rooting for le Monegasque.

sorry for the shaky gifs but here is Charles on a mega fast run in Q3!

Overall, it was a trip. Gasly's shit quali was def a mood killer and the whole crowd was super sad, but they kept sending good vibes to make sure Pierre knew he was supported! Same thing for Ocon in Q2. People were also in suspense when Mick was fighting Race Control over the track limits, fair imo as Race Control this year has been even worse than last year and that's saying something. Crowd also went wild for Alonso in Q3 as he was Renault's rep. Lots of love for Sir Lulu as well! I, personally, made sure I was as annoying as possible whenever Seb was out hahahahaha. Once quali was done, I quickly hurried back to the Fan Zone in an attempt to get #RailedForSeb. And man... I'll need to talk about the following events in therapy.

When I left there hadn't even been the post-quali interviews yet, Charles had barely re-entered the pit lane. And while in the morning I didn't exactly bolt to the Fan Zone, this time I really almost ran. AND YET THERE WERE ALREADY TWO LINES OF PEOPLE THERE AGAIN. I sincerely think that some of them didn't even watch FP3 or quali so that they could stay in the rail and maximise their chances. I suppose (and hope) that it wasn't their first Grand Prix so they wouldn't miss it too much.

Team Vettel stayed strong!

I decided to stay in their entrance to the stage since there was a bigger chance of him autographing stuff there than in the center, where he would only be once. Quali ended around 17h30 if i'm not mistaken, so it would be roughly an hour and a half that I would have to stand up with a heavy backpack on my shoulders in the scorching heat. Easy. Feasible. I didn't know, however, that in less than 10 minutes a little kid would show up and be an Omen of how much of a mess the rest of the day would be. In fact, I'll call the kid Damien just to make it easier to illustrate.

accurate photo of Little Damien

Damien was right at my side with his folks a little behind him, and he only had a notebook and a dream: to get all of the drivers' autographs. He hadn't been there in the morning so he hoped the evening would be a hit. There was only an issue: he wasn't right behind the rail and the spot he had chosen was occupied by a couple of older fans.

Now, Damien had a few possibilities to choose from: he could have moved somewhere else he could sneak in better. In fact, his mom said that his greatest advantage was that he was a tiny little kid, so he could easily slowly make his way to the rail without taking a lot of space from people. But he didn't want that. He could have also asked nicely to the people in front of him if they could hold his notebook and get autographs for him, but he wanted full control as well. So, instead of being ok with the place he was at and trying to position himself as well as possible, Damien decided to bitch and moan as audibly as everyone in a 10 m radius could hear for a WHOLE HOUR AND A HALF. 

First, he spend half an hour just screaming "THERE IS NO SPACE!!! THERE IS NO SPACE!!!!". Then, he turned to his mom a few couple of times and said, I swear to God, "there are these two old people in front of me and they are there just to watch! I want my autographs!". I was GOOPED at the audacity of this three year old to be that bitchy when the guys were right behind him and could perfectly understand French, what the fuck! Like, what makes you so entitled to think you are more worthy of an experience than all the other fans that are there for the same reason as you are? Is there an hierarchy of fans I haven't heard of?

the couple pretending they weren't understanding what the kid was saying

At that point, it was only getting hotter and hotter. And as people were coming in, they started to push each other closer and closer to the rail, which meant that I was now just one row behind it instead of the original two. Space was getting smaller and smaller, there wasn't much room to drink water and people were starting to be in a bit of a mood with anticipation and such. I started feeling bad because I looked back and I realised I couldn't actually leave anymore, there was no way to get out without being stepped over by people. So I started feeling nervous. Luckily, some staff came with bottles of water to people, which calmed a bit the nerves, but available space kept getting smaller and smaller.

It was during the water moment that Damien managed to get a bit closer as well, but still behind the aged couple. A guy who was there to take some pictures for his daughter had no choice but to let Damien in, and said so himself. Damien kept being foolish and running his mouth, so we all kind of decided, collectively, not to let him pass any further and block him hahahahaha. Maybe if his parents did a good job of keeping him quiet we would have been nicer but kid was a dick and suffered, so far, no consequence of it.

The hosts came in and announced that the first team would be Alpha Tauri, which led everyone to bolt forwards to get to Gasly when he would come in. I was being crushed from all sides and hanging on to my sticker album for my dear life, so I genuinely considered crying out for help. However, I look around and security is placed obviously for the drivers, not for the fans, and there are no firemen/paramedics in sight. That means that not only I had truly no way out, but also if I fainted or anything happened, no one would know until the whole thing was over and I dropped dead after people loosened up. I went survival mode and focused all my strengths in just making it to the end of the interviews, I was legit close to tears.

Now, remember the couple in front of Damien? I had asked them earlier before Damien came in if they would mind handing my album for Seb to sign or if I put my arm between them, literally anything. The lady told me they had stuff for him to sign too (so they weren't there just for the banter as Damien thought), so I thanked them and said "no worries"). As people started pushing, I also apologised to the people around me and said it was out of my control. BECAUSE I WAS POLITE, the lady actually changed her mind and offered to take my sticker album while her husband would hold the book they had - it was a compilation of Paul-Henri and Bernard Cahier photos of champions, and there was one with Seb in it. Lovely book btw. Too bad what happened next changed the course of humanity and trauma bonded all of us there.

Gasly came in and all hell broke loose. I got pushed forwards to the point my feet didn't touch the ground anymore, while tons of arms showed up over me holding caps, posters and French flags. My hat was about to fall off, but someone decided to use my head as a support point to lean forwards, so I didn't lose it. I just sort of looked at the little of sky I could see on top of me and raised my hands up in the hopes someone would rescue me - which didn't happen.

exclusive image of me hanging on to my dear life

Pierre signs tons of autographs for the French who are, at this point, equally shouting "GASLY" with whatever lungs they have available after their years of chain smoking and fighting each other over the lack of space. Yuki shows up too and more screaming is had until they get to the stage. A little bit of schadenfreude powers me as little Damien starts crying and somehow escapes because he failed to get autographs and it was clear this wasn't gonna happen to him in this GP. Served him right.

Yuki shows up too and I manage to get a little bit of air while they do their interviews. I actually saw that people shared the "only thing that Yuki hasn't tried yet is a French girl" anedocte that Gasly said, but they missed out on the most important part that was the entire audience just being like "CHILL PIERRE, CHILL" and laughing out of nervousness. I could feel Tsunoda getting red and I was only able to see his back!

Alpha Tauri come out and the moment of truth arrives as Aston Martin joins us. AGAIN, everyone lunges because of Seb and this time, so do I, fuck it. I had saved my last 1% of strength for this moment and started yelling for him to look over. Britta and Lance's PR person walk in the front handing signed photocards, so I start yelling for her instead while Seb's further back. I swear to God, she actually came in my direction, looked at me in the eye, I said "hi Britta!" and she smiled back..... and she handed the photocards to people right beside me. I yelled for her to come back but it was too late. My jaw dropped for like... a whole minute. What was the reason, Britta?????? I do recognise it was hilarious and a great story to tell though.

Seb told people in front of him to calm down as he would try to sign as many autographs as possible, and he did. In fact, besides Red Bull's ordeal, all of them spent quite a good time making an effort at reaching out to as many fans as they could get, and they were genuinely nice while at it. I mean, Alpha Tauri, Aston Martin and Alfa Romeo all had lowkey disastrous qualifying sessions, Gasly the worst I think, and they still smiled and tried to engage as much as they could. While they're all more or less PR trained, they're not actors and you can feel who is more or less distant, which makes the whole thing even more astonishing because practically none of them really were, even the more reserved ones. You could feel the effort.

But unfortunately, it doesn't matter exactly where you're placed as it is a bit of a Russian Roulette and Seb never managed to sign my sticker album. He stayed before and after. Again, to be fair, he spent a lot of time there and there were tons of Seb fans around with helmet replicas and AM merch and even Ferrari/Red Bull fans that were there for The Legacy, but he genuinely had to go. He even kind of shrugged in an apologetic way before leaving. A guy that was in front of me handed me a photocard and said "hey, you couldn't do better than this!" all happy because he thought he had snagged me a Seb card, but when I told him it was Lance's, he said "oh, merde!". For me it was great though, as my Lance stan friend was super happy when I sent her the pic.

I stuck around until the end of the Alfa Romeo interviews as I had no choice and I also managed to see Zhou Guanyu sign the Seb page of my sticker album HAHAHA. He actually looked super pleased as well, it was so endearing. Also managed to see Bottas and yeah.... I would. I totally would, why lie for the tl. Overall, I managed to get two signatures in my Seb page, which I think are Yuki and Zhou's. The whole concept of Oppa Seb is so funny and the guys were so nice I can't even be mad!

I could have stayed a little longer to watch the after concert (that apparently was on the track and super cool!) and also see Esteban pass in front of our tribune, but I chose to go home instead because I legit needed a breather. Took a shower, some Tylenol and went to sleep.

sunday: scenes at the race

Rinse and repeat, woke up early, showered, got dressed, food, go. I had to snuck in the bus because people decided to queue while I was sat and there were people at the queue who were there for way less longer than I was. Didn't give a single shit, I am used to it in Brazil anyway.

Got there around 8h50, decided I actually wanted to eat a bit more of substantial food when I saw there was little queue on the pasta stand and that they were actually wrapping the food to go, so I bought myself a pseudo carbonara for lunch. I was super excited as I would actually have the opportunity to watch Formula 2 for the day and I knew Drugo had snagged a podium after Pourchaire's penalty the day before. I didn't know, however, that French support truly extended to the junior drivers and Pourchaire was received as a fucking hero (Novalak received a lot of love too).

While everyone cheered for Pourchaire, I took the role of being Drugo's sole cheerleader on the tribune, literally shouting VAI DRUGO every single lap. My throat is suffering from it to this day. Again, you couldn't tell me whether the race was good or bad, but I was THRILLED. I think Drugo had a bad race start and then picked up at the end? P4 seemed fair considering it all. Plus, Logan Sargeant's DNF made me happy, ngl. But overall, the star truly was Pourchaire, who landed a podium and was received as a champion. Iwasa, having led French-based DAMS to victory, was also given a standing ovation.

French flags for Theo!

After the F2 race, I ate my fauxbonara while Porsche Supercup was on and drank lots and lots of water. There were still animations with some random cheerleaders on the stands and some flag waving, but the real stars were the track marshals that hyped the crowd before the drivers' parade. They made us clap, they sang and danced like a bunch of fools, they made some waves, anything to keep us hyped before the drivers got to our turn, and it did work! Here are a few gifs from the video I took (I actually shot all the drivers but footage is shaky so I'll only share the ones that you could see a bit better).

I was surprised to see the Paddock Club ticket holders on a few trucks after the drivers btw. I kind of understand the glamour of taking part in the Parade, but it feels like it would be much more interesting to watch the Parade than to be in it. But then again, they probably saw the drivers way more close than I did the entire weekend, so yeah, it is what it is.

I set my phone aside during the race so there are no pictures of it, sorry :/ I had made an effort to register as much as I could during the entire weekend and I really wanted to be able to take in everything of the main event itself. I have to say, it was one of the most unforgettable moments of my life to experience the thrill of the formation lap and race start. The anticipation, the fear, the hope, it's like, everything all at once because the cars are so... concrete, you know? Maybe the best part about attending a race is truly the breaking of the fourth wall that allows you to realise these guys are actually there and it's not just an abstract creation of your imagination. There is a completely rupture of the distancing you have when you watch it from home which is a complete mindfuck and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Unfortunately, the race graphics just don't work live and are completely unreadable unless you have binoculars, so I didn't know what was the exact time interval between the cars, which is a shame because you can clearly see the gap getting smaller or bigger, so I would have loved to be able to correlate distance and timing. However, it was fucking lunatic to see the first few laps with Charles holding on Max from the perspective of the last turn. Sometimes, it looked like Max could legit lung while turning, sometimes it looked like Charles was under control, and once the gap looked big enough and they said Max was out of DRS range the whole crowd came down cheering. Everyone wanted Charles to win...

Which made the more heartbreaking when he crashed. We just saw the yellow flag signs getting lit up and then the safety car sign coming out before we knew it was Charles. I nearly cried but my tears dried out because of the shock of his radio message that was broadcast for all of us to hear. When his heavy, quick breathing played, everyone was quiet because we were all scared he was hurt. I even thought he had broken something. Instead, his scream echoed through the entire circuit and everyone just sighed with a mix of relief for his physical integrity and sadness for his own heartbreak. It was truly awful and personally, I didn't even have the time to recover from it before the shitty Carlos pit release.

To make matters worse, since Charles crashed close to my tribune, both him and his car passed right in front of us. You know what truly fucking sucked? You could tell he was devastated, his shoulders were completely down and he still made sure to wave us all, in something I feel was a mix of appreciation for the support as everyone was cheering anyway (I personally made sure to scream "thank you for everything" and "I love you") and apologies for having made a mistake. I did whip my phone out of the bag to take a picture of La Rossonera, and the saddest part is that it looked not that bad at all. 

Now, I had to move on and focus on the rest of the race, since there were still a Ferrari on track and tons of other drivers I had always dreamt of seeing. Carlos' track progression was my focus, and I repeat myself but I had the time of my life seeing him catch up to the cars in front of him race lap after lap until he showed up ahead. His overtake of Checo was right in front of me since I could see that part of the main straight, so I jumped and screamed like a maniac, only stopping when Checo tried to strike back and failed. Imagine my fucking surprise when he goes in the pit. The amount of cursing I did while the guys in front of me were like "typical Ferrari".... this is so HUMILIATIIIING.

I was also rooting for something that didn't happen (Max DNF) but overall, even with the results I was more than satisfied with the race weekend I had. If we had a better ending, I might have considered rewatching it on F1TV, but honestly I don't care enough to put myself through that ordeal again hahah, I'll take the L and keep the good memories. Since I had a crippling headache from the heat - Sunday was less warm but worse because the air was more dense - I left the track early and got home with time to spare, enough to get my things packed, call my folks and tell them about my weekend and to have some celebratory Mickey Ds.

epilogue: a few final thots

While on the bus heading back home, I had a bit of time to think about what the weekend represented to me. The first major point is that it completely changed my outlook on the drivers themselves. I have never like, dehumanised them and I try to keep my idolatry in check so that I'm able to call them out if necessary, but I did idolise my faves and loathed the ones I dislike. Seeing them interact with the fan base live was a 180º flip because like... they're just people. Some of them are smaller than you would think, some of them are taller than you think, but they truly just want to drive the cars, you know? But then you're standing there besides a random person who literally just went there to see them, literally just one of them, you hear the cries and it's scary, it truly is, to consider the psychological weight of the burden that they carry.

Because it's like, on one side they have to be concerned with living up to the expectations of the sport, the team, the championship and of their own talent, which is already the standard agony that every athlete goes through in their entire career and that feeds their fears and regrets after retirement. But on the other side, they need to go out and be paraded like shiny objects to a bunch of people who are shouting their names and staring at them almost like Cujo, drooling and wide eyed, but it's out of love. How do you even manage to be normal after going through all of this at least once, let alone repeated times during the years? You have to change, but at the same time you can't change who you really are, which is just a person. You are elevated to the status quo, the highest of pedestals, but you are still just a random person. You're not a hack per se, you deserve to be there as a fruit of your path and your life's work, but fundamentally the pedestal shouldn't exist. It's so much to consider and yet they all go out there, perform at the highest level they can psychologically and still find the time to try to please their worshippers. Unhinged. 

The other point I'd make is that it was truly a blessing to be able to go to the race. I know I was probably there at Charles' 2018 Germany moment but still my heart grew from Saturday to Sunday because it was just a lifelong dream becoming reality. Once you go there, you need to face with maturity the fact you can't control the sport and that's the fun of it. Whatever you spent, whatever you did, it doesn't matter because it's all in control of the people on the track and the pit lane. If it's not the championship decision, you can be frustrated but ultimately you don't get to be upset over something you knew was a possibility. And the fact is, if you do, you have to consider to distance yourself from the sport a bit.

I'm saying this because from first hand, Ferrari is frustrating year in year out. It has always been like this and not even the Golden Michael Years were peaceful. I have already spoken here my thoughts on the supreme bottling that has been made and in theory, as a fan, I had every right to curse Charles and Ferrari for the disasterclass of Sunday. But you know what, Ferrari doesn't have the right to ruin my love of them and of Formula 1, not even in the most important moment of my life as a fan so far. The team can grieve the result as they should, because we're further and further away from the lead and the strategy errors have led us to rely too much on driver performance which makes individual mistakes even more serious. Charles can grieve the result because he truly screwed up an easy win and he can even resent the team for not backing him up when he needed to. But these are burdens that it's their job to carry, I'm a fan pro bono and I can't let a result that is always a possibility put a damp in a big, happy moment for me, the same way I can't let it get through my head and ruin my entire week from home. And that's equally valid for any driver and any team, we all have to know our places, rights and duties in our parasocial relationships. I have been keeping up with my part of the deal, which is to slag them off when necessary but still offer support no matter what. I'll never stop being a Ferrari fan even when everything disappoints me because my love for them is larger than life, so why will I let current Ferrari ruin everything that me and the red car have had together over the years and will have in the future? Nah hah, fuck off, I will remain steady and look at the glass half full. This weekend was bitching and I wouldn't change a thing.

Well, I would. But I accept that I can't change it and I'm happy with what I had.

If you managed to read this all the way, I hope you enjoyed reliving with me the French Grand Prix. Next time we see each other, hopefully it's for the proper HC I've been writing. Slow and steady wins the race! As always, thank you for reading and screw you guys, I'm going home.

PS: Seriously, F1 administration, I know you guys are reading this. Find a way of keeping the Fan Forums because the interviews are nice, but bring back the autograph sessions. Someone is going to be trampled over one day. Cheers! 

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

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

(series masterlist)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

but your parents were the opposite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and apparently, so will you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how was your semester?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you okay with the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

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

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

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

never looking so... teasing and playful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you didn’t have to know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he doesn’t know when this happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he did).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but she could’t know that.

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

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

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

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

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

“do you still wanna come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“eunbi...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you miss seeing them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what? she beeped at me.”

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

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

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

“where to first, mr. park?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is this what you wanted?”

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

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

“w-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

two can play at this game mr. park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“true. it’s really good.”

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

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

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

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

“hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unless the pull was so desperate.

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

strike one:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

strike two:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n...”

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

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

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

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

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

“no. no, no, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that, and because you’re both really hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something in you tells you it’s him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“goodnight, mr. park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

get all of his stress out in the form of-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

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

“oh shit...”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

especially when it hurts students like you.

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

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

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

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud. 

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.  

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms​ @khjssss​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek​

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78 

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Routines

Tim and Marinette lived busy lives.

It was by choice, of course.

They were both prominent figures in their fields that could pick and choose the assignments they wished to take, had more money than they could ever dream of using thanks to the hefty trust fund that being even tangentially related to Bruce Wayne provided, and no one would blame them if they were to lessen or give up their vigilantism. If they wished, there was nothing stopping them from taking a smaller workload, from using up all of their sick days, from taking vacations, from quitting their jobs entirely...

That being said, they likely never would.

And the tabloids loved to speculate on their relationship because of it. How could they spend much time together if Tim was always at work, developing new technology for Wayne Enterprises? Marinette was cheating, how could she not when so much of her job as a designer involved getting up close and personal with models? Not to mention all of the business trips. Surely, the relationship had some kind of monetary motivation, or maybe it was just to more seamlessly merge their companies, or it had only happened for PR reasons.

They let them speculate. They simply didn’t know better.

The tabloids didn’t get to see how they acted behind closed doors, after all.

There would be days where neither of them went in to work. It wasn’t due to some sort of sickness that Tim had caught thanks to his lack of spleen, nor would it be because Marinette had hit some kind of artist’s block. No, it was simply because they wanted to spend time together.

~

They took breaks. Technically. If you squint.

There would be days where neither of them went into work. It wasn’t due to some sort of sickness that Tim had caught thanks to his lack of spleen, nor would it be because Marinette had hit some kind of artist’s block. No, it was simply because they wanted to spend time together.

They would turn on the coffee machine and then make their way over to the sofa. Marinette would nestle herself into his side and smile as he wrapped his arm around her. He would pull her as close as he possibly could so he could still use both arms to type.

He usually took video calls like this. It was always so much easier to maintain a pleasant smile, even when people often looked down on him for his age, because whenever he felt it start to waver he could simply look down at his girlfriend and suddenly he would find that it would be back in full force.

She would prop her sketchbook on her legs and start on some new designs. The designs she did like this were always, inexplicably, more lively than the other ones -- full of vibrant colors and swooping curves in a way that some of her other works lacked. If asked, Marinette would joke that the secret ingredient was love.

And, sure, this wasn’t technically taking a break from work. They were still productive, still did tasks...

But they counted it. They always came back to work the next day with the same euphoric feelings in their chests, the same springs in their steps. How could they not? They’d spent the entire day doing what they loved with the person that they loved. Who could ever want a break from that?

~

Every time one of them came back from a business trip, they made sure to spend the night together.

Tim would lay back in bed, Marinette on top of him. Her head would come to rest on his chest, clutching the back of his shirt tightly. His fingers would find their way to her hair and she would huff a little, knowing that her hair was about to get hopelessly tangled as he fidgeted with the silky strands, but she would nuzzle into his chest all the same.

They would watch a TV show. It didn’t matter whether it was good or bad. As long as there were people and some semblance of a plot, they would gladly stay wrapped up in each other’s arms to watch it.

Tim would rattle off whatever theories he had developed as they came to mind. Some of them were absolutely insane, he knew, and would never happen… but it was worth making a fool of himself if it got Marinette’s face to light up or if he earned one of those little giggles that escaped her when he was instantly proven wrong.

Marinette would, at least, pause the show whenever she wanted to talk, though it wasn’t out of an understanding of how time works. No, it was so she could sit up a little in his lap and point at whichever character had offended her this time. She would go on long rants about how makeup was just as important as outfits in costuming, but it was often overlooked in favor of making the actors look pretty. And, maybe she had already said all of this before, but it’s important, Tim! And he would just nod his agreement. Because it was important -- a TV night certainly wouldn’t feel like a TV night without at least one rant.

And then the screen would go black, the most recent episode done.

Tim would draw back a little and then pretend to be shocked when his hands were stuck in her hair.

“Oh noooooo,” he’d say. “I guess I can’t let go yet.”

“How unfortunate,” she would deadpan.

He’d smile cheekily at her.

“Shut up.”

“But I didn’t even say anything!” He’d argue with overexaggerated offense.

She would smile, shaking her head as much as she could with the fingers in her hair. “You didn’t have to. You have a presence about you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he’d say.

And, sometimes, she’d bring her hands up to cup his face. “Not sure if it was a compliment, but I definitely wouldn’t have it any other way,” she’d whisper before pulling him closer for a kiss.

… but, most of the time she would just laugh and say: “It wasn’t one.”

~

Once a month, Marinette tried to teach Tim to cook. Of course, they both knew it was a hopeless endeavor. He’d failed to make mac n’ cheese once, and Marinette -- who had lived the first eighteen years of her life in a Parisian bakery -- wasn’t good at discerning which meals were ‘easy to do’.

But that didn’t stop her from trying.

She would come up with a new recipe, would claim that this one was truly dummy proof…

And then Tim, dummy that he was, would manage to mess it up. Without fail, he would find some way to do something wrong. He would leave the milk on the stove and then be surprised when said milk on the stove decided to revolt against the system. He would raise the temperature on the thing they were baking so it would go faster and then be shocked when the cake didn’t rise at all. He would put too much in the mixer and then not understand why the contents had exploded over the two of them.

Worst thing was, she was pretty sure he was actually trying. He just… couldn’t seem to do it.

So, she would just kiss the disappointed frown off of his face and promise that they would do better next time.

And, every time without fail, he would light up.

“There will be a next time?” He would ask.

“Yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute, I can’t say I love being covered in ingredients.”

Tim would kiss her cheek, and then draw back and lick his lips. “I don’t know, I kind of like it. Something about my girlfriend being covered in tasty food really does something for me.”

“Like I said: you’re lucky you’re cute.”

And, even though she would say that, there was no mistaking the amusement dancing in her eyes.

~

They weren’t particularly religious, it was hard to be when Marinette had a god living in her earrings that obeyed her every command…

Which meant celebrations for the two of them were few and far between.

But, at least, they celebrated their anniversary.

They would sit on the rooftop, the blankets doing nothing to keep the hard tiles of the roof from digging into them and they did even less against the chilly Gotham air.

She’d stare up at the sky with him.

And, since it was Gotham, there were very few stars to be seen through the dark red and black haze of clouds that hung over the city.

But they didn’t mind.

Marinette smiled. “It’s our colors.”

He didn’t look over, watching the colors swirl above them. “Even the sky thinks we’re a good couple.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. The sky god really does have a thing for love.”

He gave a short puff of laughter and finally tore his eyes away from the sky. “Really?”

She shrugged, grinning at him. “No clue. There might not even be a sky god.”

He scoffed and untangled his hand from its blanket prison to give her a tiny shove. She could have dodged the attempt with ease, but she allowed the hand to make contact.

To her surprise, he grabbed ahold of her shoulder and pulled her into him. She gave an undignified little squeak and, if it weren’t for the fact that he was right there, she would have probably faceplanted onto the tile.

But, instead, her face came crashing into his soft, pillowy shoulder.

She looked up at the crooked grin that she had come to love over the years and huffed, pulling her own arms free so she could shove him. For real.

He flopped back, the hand he’d managed to get out coming to rest over his chest as if he were hurt.

“How could you? Roofs hurt, you know.”

“Well, yeah, if you throw yourself down on tiles it’s not going to feel too great.”

He cracked a grin, though he quickly tamped it down to keep up the act: “Victim blaming at its finest.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned over him. One of her hands cradled his cheek, her thumb tracing the tiny scar on his cheekbone.

He looked up at her. And she thought, somewhere, that maybe the reason the pollution in the city was just some kind of coverup so no one would know that they all resided in Tim’s eyes.

And then she cursed herself mentally for thinking something so cheesy.

She had to make up for it somehow:

“You’re the worst, I hope you know that.”

“I am. But you love me anyway.”

Dang it. How was she supposed to feign being annoyed when he looked at her like that? With that soft smile and thick lashes and hair that framed his face just so.

She decided it wasn’t worth trying to pretend.

Marinette let herself match his smile.

“I do.”

“Save those words for our wedding,” he joked softly.

She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even proposed yet.”

“I could be doing that right now. Who knows, this could all be my plan.”

“It’d be a good plan,” she said. “I’d probably say yes.”

He narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Isn’t that essentially you proposing to me?”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then she laughed a little. “I guess it kind of is. So, Tim, will you marry me?”

His eyes widened to an almost comical degree.

And then his face lit up with a smile that made her heart flutter.

“I hope you know I want a ring.”

She giggled. “Just say yes, you idiot. We can always get the ring tomorrow.”

His smile only stretched further. “Yes. I’d love to marry you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning closer until her lips brushed against his.

“I love you, too,” he breathed.

Marinette didn’t hesitate any longer, tilting her head to give him a proper kiss. He freed himself of the blanket and she gasped a little against his lips as he wrapped her up in it as well, drawing her close.

She pulled away just a little, her forehead coming to rest against his. She couldn’t seem to get the dopey smile off of her face, but she wasn't completely sure she even wanted it gone.

“I proposed first, so I won,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

He smiled. “No, I did.”

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: We and Us (Fluff, Time Travel AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) takes a vacation to Japan with her best friend and prays to meet her soulmate, only fate gives her a mile instead of an inch and she meets Rengoku Kyōjurō— the Flame Hashira in the manga that she had been reading. Right before his last mission, no less, so it’s up to her to save him.

Note: This is a mix of an isekai, soulmate, and time travel AU. I’ll try to explain things as best as I can within the story, but please take everything at face value. But if y’all have questions, please let me know. Enjoy, bbys!

(Y/n) will be the usual, but (F/n) will stand for Friend’s Name.

Also, a HUGE thank you to Biz for helping me out so much with this. Like seriously. I’ve hit so many blunders with writing this one out.

Warning: Mild Angst with Happy Ending, Manga/Movie Spoilers, Language

Word Count: 11,007

***

It was the same dream again; the very same one that had kept on plaguing (Y/n) ever since she had landed in Tokyo with her best friend.

She had only ever seen the scene in the Kimetsu no Yaiba manga, but it all looked so vivid in her mind. Too vivid, in fact, that it had unsettled her enough to have her sitting up in the double bed in the hotel room, that she and (F/n) shared.

For the third night in a row, the dream— no, the nightmare— had managed to reduce her to tears again.

Maybe she was crazy for feeling so much for someone who wasn’t real, but she couldn’t help her reaction. When she had opened her eyes, her face was already wet with tears— and no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away, they wouldn’t cease falling.

And, for once, she wanted to wake (F/n) up so she could get one of her comforting hugs— but she didn’t want to put a damper on such a momentous vacation for them. After all, they had saved up so much money just to afford going to Tokyo in the first place.

She wouldn’t ruin the next day with something that would fade away into nothingness later on.

But she would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt to watch Rengoku Kyōjurō die over and over again— even if it was only in her dreams.

All she could do, however, was lay back down and curl into a ball to clutch one of her pillows close to her chest; burrowing her face into the fresh-smelling linen and trying to will away the haunting images that kept playing in her mind.

Her heart felt like it was breaking a million times over, yet she couldn’t exactly explain why that was. So, she closed her eyes and started counting— if only to get her racing mind to calm down.

Thankfully, sleep finally caught up to her; albeit restless and unfulfilling.

‘Don’t worry about me dying here.’

***

“You seem really off today, is something wrong, (Y/n)?” (F/n) asked as she nudged her best friend with her elbow, sending the other woman jumping a little in surprise; as if she had been suddenly shaken from some deep and all-consuming thought.

In response, (Y/n) forced a smile on her face and shook her head. She really did feel so drained, especially with a constant heaviness weighing down on her shoulders. Especially when she had stepped onto the small tram that would lead them to Setagaya; it was as if her chest had gotten so tight at some unknown factor that plagued her every waking move.

Not even the pretty hydrangeas that lined either side of the tracks were enough to make her feel better. And it felt like such a waste to be there, as the hydrangeas were what she had wanted to see the most.

“I just had a really weird dream last night. It was of Kyō dying…” (Y/n) admitted with a slight huff of a laugh, trying to make light of the situation with some humor— but she couldn’t say anything more as she felt her best friend’s arms wrap around her tightly.

(Y/n) had to admit that it was a little surprising, but she wasn’t entirely opposed to it; as it felt so warm and comforting, especially with the light drizzle of rain outside making the world look dreary and cold.

And slowly, she found herself grinning as she tried to push (F/n) off; before bursting out into a tiny fit of giggles when the arms around her only got tighter.

“Okay, okay, I feel better now. You can let go of me.”

With a laugh, (F/n) stepped back and patted the top of (Y/n)’s head, making the latter curl her upper lip at how playfully condescending that was. But it did its job in taking her mind off of her nightmare, which was all that mattered.

And so, with much a brighter mood, (Y/n) looked out of the tram window and giddily waited for their stop— so she could get a feel of what Kyōjurō’s hometown would have been like. After all, the databook had mentioned him living in Setagaya; so it was ticking off two nocks in one move, with her hydrangea sightseeing, as well as touring Setagaya.

When they got to their station, both women wasted no time in walking to the nearby temple— Tsurumaki Jisso-in. It was a really quaint place, but it felt so tranquil to step into; as if they were being transported through time.

Every step that (Y/n) took, she could feel her emotions beginning to bubble to the surface— feeling so light and heavy at the same time, like some part of her was being welcomed back to the place.

But that wasn’t the most unsettling instance for her; that was when she was deep in prayer already— thanking the gods for bringing her to Japan with her best friend, and for giving her such good fortune up to that day.

After all, she knew that she was luckier than most for just having the opportunity to have a roof above her head and three (or more) meals a day. Let alone the fact that she could have saved up to afford a very expensive trip.

If that wasn’t worth thanking the gods for, then she didn’t know what was.

“All I’m asking for now… is someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who’s the other half of my soul…” She prayed under her breath, bowing her head even further as a sign of humility, before adding, “Someone who will love me wholeheartedly forever.”

Shivers raced up her spine as soon as she uttered her wish, with some unseen force beckoning her to look up. And when she gave in to the urge to do so, the sight of a blond waiting a few paces away from her— with his hand stretched out towards her— made her absolutely breathless.

The vision didn’t last more than a couple of seconds, but she was sure that she just saw Rengoku Kyōjurō in front of her.

“It can’t be. I’m going crazy,” The young woman whispered to herself; bowing down once more, before strolling off to the side to admire the little stone statues that dotted the vicinity.

However, the heavy feeling on her shoulders had returned along with a headache. So, she decided that a short stroll around the area would do her some good.

With one last look behind her— to see that (F/n) was still engrossed in whatever prayer she had— (Y/n) deigned to just send her a text to let her know that she was going for a walk before finally taking the first few steps to get her around the place.

She couldn’t even hear the buzz of the town around them. No horns, or car engines, or even the sound of people filled the gaps of silence between the short gusts of wind that rustled the leaves of the plants around her.

If she were to be honest, she would say that it was relaxing; enough for a nap, even.

But she couldn’t do that when she and (F/n) still had so many places to go for the rest of the day. And, figuring that she’d been gone for long enough, she circled back to the pagoda— where, lo and behold, her best friend was nowhere to be found.

“I told her to wait for me here, tsk,” She uttered under her breath, huffing a little as she tried to fight back the heaviness and the headache that were only getting worse. “(F/n), you dumbass.”

She must have circled the entire vicinity of the temple thrice already, but her best friend was still nowhere to be found. And, around the second time that she had gotten back to the pagoda, she had pulled her phone out to call her— only to curse under her breath when she saw that it was dead.

It wouldn’t have been a problem at all, since she had her backpack with her— but when she checked the contents of it, she didn’t find the power bank that she was sure that she had packed in there that morning.

So, she circled the area once more— getting more frustrated at the pseudo cat and mouse game that she assumed (F/n) was playing with her— until she decided to check outside the temple gates.

Only, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes when an entirely different scene greeted her.

Instead of the asphalt road that she had walked on earlier, there was only a dirt road; which had her chest tightening with panic. Because she couldn’t have been on one of those prank shows she always watched.

But that was the only answer that she was coming up with, as her eyes took in the sight of the busy road in front of her. People were even wearing much older clothes; as opposed to the jeans, button down, and ankle boots combo that she was wearing.

“No, I swear to everything holy… (F/n), if you signed me up for a prank…” She hissed under her breath, swallowing thickly as she frantically looked at all of the people who were going on about their day.

A few gazes were aimed at her, but no one dared to approach her. And it wasn’t like she could simply stroll up to someone and ask them what had happened to the road— because, as it was, she only knew the basics of basic Japanese.

She would sooner make a mistake and ask someone where a gong was, instead of where the road had gone.

It was also at that moment that she realized that she shouldn’t have goofed off while learning Japanese; instead of telling (F/n) that she sucks tiny dicks, she could have used that time to learn some more useful sentences.

Panic was steadily beginning to set in, causing tears to spring up in her eyes as she clutched her useless phone in one hand. She couldn’t even muster up the strength to move from where she stood— the need to cry getting stronger with every passing second.

(Y/n) swore that she would wring her best friend’s neck if all of that ended up as a really unfunny prank. But it seemed that it wasn’t a prank at all, as no one yelled ‘cut’ and not one camera person stepped out to capture the sight of her tears beginning to fall down her face.

Slowly, her panic began to really set in, as she gripped her phone even tighter in her hand— pushing herself to turn on her heel to march back into the temple and try to look for (F/n) in every shrub possible; only, the breath was knocked out of her when she ran smack dab into something.

Or rather, someone.

Red-tinted irises flickered down at the peculiar woman, lingering on her tear-stained face, before they took in the strange clothes that she was wearing.

The strange woman’s clothes weren’t what had the Flame Hashira’s curiosity piquing, however…

It was when her eyes widened with what seemed like fear and genuine shock, before she whispered, “Kyōjurō?”

All that, before promptly passing out— thankfully, in his arms. Otherwise, she would have suffered a painful bump to the head.

“Ani-ue? Do you know her?” Kyōjurō readjusted his hold on the woman in his arms, then looked down at his side to answer his brother with a smile.

“I don’t, Senjurō, but she knows me.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Take her home,” The Hashira’s answer sounded so simple, as if it didn’t have to do with taking a virtual stranger home— one that looked so weird, with a glossy and flat brick at her feet. Because really, his curiosity was extremely piqued; especially with how he felt his heart skip a beat when she mentioned his name.

He wanted to know why exactly that was, when he had never felt something so… unexplainably warm and pleasant in his entire life.

As if he had just begun to really live.

***

“Is she awake yet?” Kyōjurō asked as he slid the shoji open and poked his head inside the guest room. He had been training beforehand, but had practically breezed through the rest of his shadow sparring routines because his curiosity got the better of him.

All throughout the afternoon, he couldn’t quite get his mind off of the strange woman who was sleeping in his home; and it wasn’t even the fact that she knew him that baffled him.

It was how he felt so attached to her already— as if, by some invisible force, something tethered him to her.

And that was how he found himself padding through the house; pacing up and down the halls at first, weighing the merits of seeing her already— without washing all of the sweat off of him first— as opposed to just making a beeline for her room and checking up on her.

However, he went with the former choice: bathing first, before going to see her. After all, he wanted to make a good impression, and he couldn’t do that when he smelled like the sun and lots of sweat.

“Not yet, ani-ue,” Senjurō answered softly, sending his older brother a smile, before reaching up to feel the unknown woman’s forehead with the palm of his hand.

She didn’t have a fever, but she was still unconscious, which worried the younger Rengoku a lot. He may not have known her, but he was so naturally kindhearted that he didn’t want anyone getting hurt— especially when they were under his care.

Kyōjurō sighed quietly— more out of disappointment than anything else— as he padded into the room; closing the door behind him, as he let his gaze fall to the unconscious woman on the futon.

And that was when the foreign feeling of his stomach feeling so empty yet full at the same time— as his heart began to pound faster in his chest— fell on him. He barely even managed to restrain the urge to reach up and rub at the spot where his heart was.

Though, slowly, he walked towards her and sat down next to where his brother sat— not once looking at anywhere but her and her sleeping face.

Kyōjurō had to admit that she was quite beautiful, even with that slight furrow in her brows. But, before he could stop himself, he reached out and gently smoothed the crease down with the pads of his fingers.

Unbeknownst to him, a small and warm smile had tugged up at the corners of his lips; which had Senjurō looking between the Flame Hashira and the stranger.

He didn’t want to make assumptions, but he could feel that there was something divine at play with their situation. Especially since the woman looked like she didn’t belong in their country, nor did she belong in their time.

It wasn’t until night had fallen that the brothers saw her stir awake, and they immediately waited with baited breath for her to open her eyes. But when she did open them, they immediately widened as she bolted upright on the futon— scooting away from the Rengokus and dragging the blanket closer towards her chest.

As if that would protect her from a Hashira.

“I have to be dreaming,” (Y/n) whispered frantically, curling her fingers around the blanket and bringing it up to shield her face from the pair in front of her; then brought it back down after a few seconds, to check if they were still there.

Lo and behold, Kyōjurō and Senjurō were still looking at her; which prompted her to do it twice more, until the older of the two tugged the blanket out of her hands and scooted closer to her.

(Y/n) wanted nothing more than to scream at that moment— both with fear and various other overwhelming emotions— but she bit down on her tongue and held it in. On the off chance that it was all some elaborate prank, she didn’t want to make even more of a fool of herself.

“Your name,” Kyōjurō began, letting his curiosity get the better of him as he gave in and jumped into interrogating her already. After all, he had been waiting all afternoon for her to wake up. “What’s your name?”

Hell, he had even pushed back the time for his nightly patrols in case she woke up. Because he wanted to be there when she opened those breathtaking eyes of hers; ones that widened in surprise at his question.

Thankfully, (Y/n) caught his words with very little difficulty.

“(Y/n)…” The young woman breathed out, completely enamored by how close those fiery eyes were to her face. She had only seen them in her dreams, and to have them look so real… it was a dream come true; even if she was sure that she was only hallucinating.

Since there was no way that a manga character could be real.

“I… I mean… (L/n) (Y/n),” She stammered out in the choppiest-sounding Japanese that she had ever uttered. It was even worse than when she had asked someone for directions in the street the day before; making her want to snatch the blanket back and hide under it until the burning in her cheeks subsided.

“(L/n) (Y/n),” Kyōjurō whispered under his breath, feeling his lips tingle as a smile tugged up at the corners of his lips— for some unknown reason. The name was so foreign on his tongue, and he had pronounced it differently than she had, but it still had his heart fluttering inside his chest. “Earlier, you mentioned my name. How do you know me?”

That had all of (Y/n)’s thoughts coming to a standstill inside her head, stumping her until she could feel her right eye twitching with her discomfort. After all, she couldn’t very well tell him that he was a fictional character in a manga— one that she cared for immensely.

But she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to explain why she was there in the first place, if she lied to him. That, and something told her that Kyōjurō would willingly hear her out, and even accept what she was going to say.

He would be a little skeptical about it, but she knew as much as he did that no one would be able to explain exactly what had happened.

So, to the best of her ability, she wracked her brain for all of the Japanese words that she had learned, and began to explain in choppy sentences. “I’m not from here. I’m from the future… and this is a manga.”

The Hashira’s eyebrows furrowed at that, and he was about to open his mouth to speak, when Senjurō reached out to lay a hand on his forearm.

“Maybe we should hear her out first, ani-ue?”

Those words prompted Kyōjurō to look over at Senjurō, before scooting back to sit next to his brother, and letting go of the blanket that he had unceremoniously snatched from their guest. Part of him had his defenses raised, and wanted nothing more than to get things over with— but another, much bigger part, had him wanting to sit there and listen to what she had to say.

All night long, if he had the leisure of doing so.

And so, with her choppy Japanese, (Y/n) went on to tell the Rengoku brothers everything that had happened since she had arrived at the temple in Setagaya, and everything that happened between that and fainting in his arms; with the last bit making her blush profusely, while she looked away.

Surprisingly, Kyōjurō found the flustered expression cute on her… but what threw the young man even more for a loop was his reaction: stifling a smile, as his cheeks also warmed up with a blush identical to hers.

Never in his life had he been flustered like that; which was made even more intense with the butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach. It was a foreign feeling, but something that he welcomed… because it was something nice and warm.

Something that he knew he had been missing all along.

“And that’s how I ended up here. I was just looking for my friend...” (Y/n) implored softly, letting her gaze flicker between the two blonds in front of her. “Do you believe me?”

She then waited with baited breath for Kyōjurō’s answer, staring intently at him, and sighing when he minutely nodded his head. “Parts of your story explain things, so I’ll believe you… for now.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll take that.” (Y/n) smiled at him, feeling extremely comfortable under his gaze for once— only to feel her breath catch in her throat when the Hashira returned it with a much brighter one than hers.

If he kept smiling at her like that, she might just traverse time and space again— what with how surreal it looked.

Both of them seemed to be stuck at a standstill then, with their eyes not once flickering away from the other— as their smiles tapered down into smaller ones.

All the while, Senjurō could only look on with a hint of a smile tugging up on his cheeks; because he had never seen his brother ever look so interested in a woman before. And maybe, just maybe, he’d finally found the one who was going to take care of his heart.

“Ani-ue, I think it’s time for your patrols now,” The younger Rengoku began with a mirthful tone, popping the invisible bubble that ensconced the pair with him.

That had the Hashira sitting upright even more, shoulders stiffening as he picked his sword up from beside him and immediately got up. He had completely forgotten that he had to do a patrol of the area, just so everyone under his jurisdiction could stay safe.

However, he felt a little reluctant to leave his guest just like that.

“Let’s talk more tomorrow, (L/n)-san,” He bid then, biting down unsurely on his bottom lip when he realized just how forward he sounded— but not doing anything to retract the statement.

Because he had to admit, he wanted to talk to her more; get to know her. All of her.

To his utter shock— and pleasure— he saw the young woman nod at him, before uttering words that had his heart practically jumping out of his chest and gracing all of them with its presence.

“Stay safe, Kyōjurō… I mean, Rengoku-san.”

It was safe to say that all throughout his patrol, Kyōjurō’s mind always drifted back to the intriguing woman that had literally and figuratively fallen into his arms.

***

When morning finally came, it was to hear nothing but tranquil silence within the Rengoku household. There was the telltale chirping of birds outside, and the soft din of people chattering as they passed by the house— but it seemed that everyone was still asleep within the estate itself.

But (Y/n) was proven wrong when she heard three soft knocks outside of her room. “(L/n)-san? Are you awake?”

It was Senjurō, to whom she answered that she was awake and that she could come in— in the most chipper voice possible. She couldn’t help it, there was just something about the youngest Rengoku that made her all smiley and happy; like he was a bright ray of light in a dark and dreary world.

Much like how Kyōjurō was.

“Good morning, Senjurō-kun,” She greeted with a smile, quietly taking note of the change of clothes that was in his arms. They looked extremely nice; red, with black and gold embroidery, from her vantage point.

“Ani-ue got these for you earlier this morning… as soon as the shop opened,” Senjurō admitted with a soft, and teasing, smile; one that had (Y/n)’s cheeks flaring red at how sweet the gesture was, and how she just knew that a little boy was poking fun at her for making it so obvious that she liked his older brother.

Because, really, from how she had made moony eyes at him last night— there was no denying that Senjurō knew just how attracted she really was to Kyōjurō.

Thankfully, the younger Rengoku didn’t push his teasing more than that— opting instead to hand her the clothes, so she could get ready for the day.

It had taken a while for her to get herself done up in the kimono, but she eventually padded over to the shoji and poked her head outside, calling out softly, “Senjurō-kun? I’m done.”

When there was no answer, (Y/n) waited unsurely by the door for a little longer, until she felt awkward just standing there. So, she closed it once more, then padded over to her futon— folding everything up like she had seen in all the Japanese dramas that she had seen— and then moving towards her bag, that had been left a few ways away from where she had been sleeping.

She then rifled through the contents, sighing in relief when she found her passport and her wallet still in there— along with her phone, which had a few cracks on the screen.

“Fuck, that’s gonna be a bitch to use,” The young woman muttered in her native tongue, clicking her tongue in mild irritation as she tried to turning it on again.

No luck, however, which had her throwing it back in her bag and setting it back down on the floor. After all, she sincerely doubted that she would be able to use her paper bills and card to pay for anything in that era.

She was basically nothing more than a sitting duck, unless she stuck close to the Rengokus until she could figure out how and why she was even there in the first place. But those thoughts were put to a halt when she heard Kyōjurō’s telltale laughter from outside the house.

And, before she could stop her feet, she had already padded over to the shoji that led to the yard and had slid it open a tiny bit— peering outside with one eye, before opening the door a little bit wider to poke her head out.

“Kyō- Rengoku-san?” Tiptoeing out onto the engawa, (Y/n) looked left and right to see where his voice was coming from; and it wasn’t until she was standing at the end of the platform, while holding on to a beam, that she saw the familiar head of blond hair that she had been looking for.

Just in time, as well, because Kyōjurō saw her during pretty much the same moment— and the brighter and warmer smile that played at his lips was close to inevitable.

The Hashira felt his heart skip another beat in his chest, as he halfheartedly excused himself from the Kakushi that he had been talking to. And with a few quick strides, as well as a little vault up onto the engawa— to show off a little for the object of his affections— he greeted, “Good morning, (L/n)-san. Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you… for your hospitality. For the kimono, and for believing me too…” Her words were choppy at best, but the Hashira picked up on all of that she wanted to tell him— making his grin widen even more, until it was so bright that it was even more breathtaking than before.

Truly, no one could say that Rengoku Kyōjurō wasn’t quite the looker. Because he was.

“I just… saw it at the shop and thought of you,” The young man chuckled bashfully, even going as far as to lift a hand up to the back of his neck and scratch at it in such an adorable manner. “It looks really, really good on you.”

Partnered with the blush on his cheeks, (Y/n) was sure then that her heart was going to get tired sooner rather than later from beating so fast and hard in her chest. “Thank you, Rengoku-san.”

“Kyōjurō.” That had (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but even the man himself wasn’t sure what had come over him at that moment. All that he knew was that he wanted to hear her keep saying his name; his given name, like she had before. “You can call me Kyōjurō.”

Her answering smile was so beautiful that the Hashira had to resist the urge to cup her cheeks in his hands and… he didn’t even want to think about what he would have done to those alluring lips of hers.

“Okay, Kyōjurō,” The sound of his given name rolling off of her pretty lips had those butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach again, which only intensified when she added, “You can call me (Y/n).”

Meanwhile, Senjurō was looking at the couple from inside (Y/n)’s room; as he had just come back to get her to have breakfast with him. But the development that he had come across had him stifling a giggle, because the pair looked absolutely adorable out on the engawa.

Both of them flustered, barely a few feet away from each other, and making such moony gazes at each other— which they were oblivious to. It confirmed the younger Rengoku’s hunch that his brother might have finally found the woman for him.

Someone that he would love and cherish forever, and vice versa.

He almost didn’t want to cut in their little moment. “Ani-ue? (L/n)-san? I made breakfast for all of us.”

At the sound of Senjurō’s voice, both Kyōjurō and (Y/n) stepped away from each other; like the spell around them was broken, much like what had happened last night. And the younger Rengoku regretted having done so because, if he were to be honest, he would say that he just wanted his brother to be happy.

***

“What should we do today? Should we ask around if anyone knows anything about traversing time?” Kyōjurō offered as he set down his cup of water, looking over at (Y/n) and automatically smiling at her— a small one, but a smile all the same.

“Wouldn’t that be too… weird?”

“You have a point,” The Hashira laughed then, crossing his arms over his chest and wracking through his head to see what solutions he could offer to his cute guest.

And that had nothing to do with wanting to impress her even more. Nothing at all.

With that, however, both of them settled with retracing (Y/n)’s steps before she had jumped through time and space— going back to the temple near Kyōjurō’s house, and trying to look for any indicators that there had been something awry at play.

But there was none; not even a suspicious looking crack in the ground or any trees that could have served as some portal to another reality.

There was, however, a headache coming on for (Y/n). Especially when she came closer to the pagoda in the middle of the sacred grounds. It was as if it was the source of her affliction— which wouldn’t be far off from her own guess that what she was doing there was somehow tied to the wish she’d made to the gods.

The wish where she’d asked to meet her soulmate; someone who would love her wholeheartedly forever. And she couldn’t think of anyone else that she wanted to fit the bill more, than Rengoku Kyōjurō.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

Kyōjurō’s words had her snapping out of her reverie; shaking her head a little, as if to shake off all of those thoughts, before turning to him. “I just… headache.”

Her words had absolutely escaped her then, since the sight of him reaching out to her was reminiscent of the vision that had flashed in her mind yesterday; just before she had been transported to his time and reality.

And to her absolute surprise, he pressed his fingers to the middle of her forehead and gently smoothed out the space between her eyebrows. She hadn’t even realized that she had been furrowing them in the first place, and that action had her blushing beet red; all the way up to the tips of her ears.

“You don’t need to frown that much, you look prettier with a smile,” The young man complimented quietly; for once abiding by the tranquil atmosphere at the temple.

That, and maybe because he wanted her to be the only one who heard those words; as they were specifically for her alone.

Slowly, he retracted his hand from (Y/n)’s forehead, and steadily tamped down the urge to pull her in and finally have a taste of those lips of hers. It wouldn’t have been a polite thing to do in such sacred grounds, in public— no less.

“Why don’t we talk a walk around the town instead? To give you some reprieve,” The Hashira offered with a smile. “And then we can come back here tomorrow to look for more information…”

Part of him wanted to jump the gun and tell her that she could stay with him forever, but even he knew that that was too forward. They had just met yesterday, after all; and she had told him that his reality only existed in a manga.

If that wasn’t the premise for something tragic, he didn’t know what was. And even though he was so tempted to give in to his budding feelings, he couldn’t put that much pressure on her.

It was true that she made him feel so much— so many good things that he didn’t even think he could feel about someone— but he also had a feeling that, sooner or later, she would want to go back to where she came from.

He didn’t want to be the cause of tethering her down there; especially not when demons were running rampant around the country.

But damn if he didn’t want to keep her with him forever.

Just a day and he was already in so deep; he was both excited and apprehensive of how much deeper his feelings would get for her the longer she stayed there.

Little did he know just how much she would come to mean to him.

***

“Kyōjurō? It’s time for breakfast!” (Y/n) called aloud, before banging the wooden spoon against the pot in her hand— letting the Flame Hashira know, in not so many words, that he should get out of his room then.

It had already been a few months since she had arrived in the Taisho era, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t worried about what was happening in her own timeline and reality— but there was realistically nothing that she could do about things.

So, she slowly started to accept the fact that she was stuck there. Not without worrying nightly about how her best friend was doing, and how her family was faring along. She still thought about them and constantly thought about ways that she could possibly get back home, but her efforts weren’t as valiant as before.

Especially since things with Kyōjurō had taken a more… romantic turn.

They had never said anything to confirm their feelings, but it was evident in the way that Kyōjurō would cup her face and hold her hand in private, that he felt the same way that (Y/n) felt for him.

It had been really surprising when he had first taken her hand, mostly because he had done so abruptly during the rare dinner when it was only the two of them eating. Hell, she had almost spilled her food when Kyōjurō just reached out and practically slapped his hand down on hers.

Thankfully, he had gotten gentler over the months, and he had learned to slowly slip her hand into his instead; which never failed to make (Y/n)’s heart flutter— each and every time.

The mere memory of his warm and rough hand enveloping hers had her smiling and blushing, as she set the bowls of food down on the dining table set for three people. Shinjurō never ate with them, and it wasn’t that he didn’t know of her existence— he knew, yet he preferred to stay in his room instead.

So (Y/n) had no idea what the Rengoku patriarch thought about her, or her relationship with his son.

She had been so deep in thought that she didn’t even feel the Hashira’s presence in the room; not until Kyōjurō sat down beside her.

Kyōjurō’s eyes zoned in on the young woman’s left cheek, as he had been doing since he had entered the room a few minutes before. He had been planning on kissing her for a long time, yet he always chickened out at the last minute— so he resolved that day, that he was going to do it.

Or he was going to double his morning exercise routine, as a form of punishment.

“Good morning, (Y/n).” He had been doing so well with his efforts too, what with him leaning in to try and brush his lips against her soft cheek— only for her to turn towards him when he had placed his hand on her back.

And, in a turn of events that he could have only dreamt of until that point, his lips slanted against her in a faint kiss.

Immediately, both their eyes widened in surprise, yet they remained frozen in place; both of them not knowing where things were going next. Not until the Flame Hashira decided to jump in and pull her in further against him, all while pressing his lips harder against her own.

She was so warm, his lips were tingling slightly at the feeling of kissing her, and he wished that the feeling would never end— as he fought off the urge to completely melt against her; along with tamping down the voice in his head that told him to pull her onto his lap and claim her lips thoroughly.

But, at the very last second, he slowly pulled back from her and took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He didn’t want to rush her into things; that wasn’t how he was raised.

After all, he wanted to marry her first.

The thought of marriage didn’t even faze him, since he had been considering it a few months after knowing (Y/n). Kyōjurō wanted nothing more than to ask for her hand in marriage, to show her that he really would cherish her forever if she chose to stay with him, but there was still the matter of her not being from that timeline that held him back from doing so.

When before he hadn’t wanted to hold her back from wanting to return to her own reality, he was beginning to succumb to the selfishness that brewed within him.

If given the chance to keep her forever, he would take it in a heartbeat.

“I…” (Y/n) whispered, face completely red and a little bit winded, as she lifted a hand and gently pressed her fingers against her lips.

Finding her shyness extremely cute, the Hashira’s lips pulled up at the corners into a grin— as he pulled a little bit away from her; if only to see more of her adorable expression. “You’re so beautiful.”

Those words only served to shock the young woman even further; eyes widening in surprise, as they flickered up and stared into those piercing red and yellow irises that she had come to love even more.

Much more than she did, than when she had thought he was nothing but a character in a manga. And so much more than she had loved any other person.

It was almost scary how much she loved and cared for Kyōjurō.

So, it absolutely tore her heart when she heard that he had been called to Oyakata-sama’s estate later that afternoon, which had her heart sinking to her stomach. It never boded well for her whenever Kyōjurō went away on missions, but to know that what she had been dreading was unfolding right before her eyes once more— for real, that time— had her feeling weak in the knees as she waited for Kyōjurō at home.

Only, instead of seeing her beloved walking through the gates, she saw his crow flying overhead— with a letter tied to one of its feet.

Her heart sank at the mere sight of it, and even more when she unfurled the parchment to see a letter that told her that he would be back in a few days.

That he just had to deal with a demon, and that he had to take the long-haul train to find it.

“No, no, no, no,” Her breaths came in shallow bursts, and her heart had felt like it had stopped inside her chest. Still, with her entire body awash with a cold and crippling kind of fear, she forced her legs to take her to the room that she had been given within the estate.

Once there, she fished out the pouch where she kept the money that Kyōjurō had been giving her— so she could buy things that she wanted— and didn’t even bother to check in with Senjurō before she left.

(Y/n) couldn’t tell him, because she would make sure that he had nothing to worry about. She would make sure that Kyōjurō lived, because she couldn’t take losing him again— and on a scale that was real, that time.

Reading about it was a different kind of pain, but experiencing it would make her crazy.

He had become such an important person to her, that to lose him would equal to her losing herself. So, that was how she found herself setting off to follow him to the train station.

Unfortunately, she had no clue where it was; nor could she ask anyone for directions— as most people shied away from her. With her being a foreigner and all, most of the locals had taken to simply ignoring her because of Kyōjurō; and it pissed her off to no end that she they wouldn’t even look her in the eye.

Kyōjurō and Senjurō had been the only ones to accept her wholeheartedly into their home, and she couldn’t be more thankful for that. Albeit a little suspicious about the gods once more playing a hand with how she had come across them, because there was no way that it was pure coincidence that she had traversed realities the same day that he decided to visit the temple on a whim.

Had she not come across them that day, she didn’t even know where she would have ended up.

And with that last thought swimming in her head, she straightened her shoulders out and took in a deep breath before soldiering on to where she had once had Senjurō mention the train station.

If memory served her right, and if she understood him correctly, then she would get there with about twenty minutes of walking.

“Why isn’t Uber a thing here?” She whispered under her breath, huffing as she fanned herself with her hand and started power walking towards where she guessed the station was.

Only, she had made a wrong turn at one point— and had to retrace her steps to the main road; where she then tried her hardest to make out the characters from ‘station’ on the sign boards and flyers that she had passed by.

And after an extra half hour, she had finally arrived at the station; met with so many people falling in line to get tickets for the first and only train that was leaving for the day. She almost wanted to tell people not to buy any of the tickets, and tell them to go home, yet she was but a tiny speck in a sea of people.

A foreigner, no less; so, the chances of anyone taking her seriously were nil.

Part of her was tempted to tell Kyōjurō about it, but she didn’t want to alert the lower moon demon controlling the train about her knowledge of things; as that would only put her at the forefront of his kill list, and would most likely put more people in danger.

She had to be smart about things, so she hatched a quick— and half-cocked— plan to hide in the last train car until she was sure that the train conductor was back out towards the first train car, before she snuck in to save Kyōjurō and the others.

“Oh thank all the gods that I took this part to heart,” The young woman whispered once more, as she looked down at her ticket and conveniently threw it in the trash bin.

She wanted to hop in the train car that her beloved was on, if only to see him safe and sound— and eating his mountain of bento box meals— but bypassed that car quickly as she hastened to the last one.

And, with one look behind herself as the train whistle blew, to see if the coast was clear, she hopped on the platform to the cargo hold and quickly snuck inside the dark and stifling car.

As nervous as she was, her heart pounding wildly in her chest was something she expected; what was weird was the tightness that came with it. It was suffocating, and beginning to weigh down on her shoulders, yet she shook the feeling off in favor of finding a trunk that wasn’t stacked up to sit on.

Once she was situated nicely— just in time too, as the train began to lurch forward— she began to run through all of the manga panels in her head. She could only vividly remember the part where Akaza appeared, as that part was such a painfully memorable one, but the few flashes of the train panels helped her gauge the timeline.

Plus, it also helped her bide her time; calming her racing thoughts a little, since she knew that Kyōjurō and the others would be able to handle the demon with little to no problems.

Once she heard the train’s whistle, she took that as a signal to get up from her perch on one of the trunks— making her way towards the steel door that led to the other cars.

Only, when she tried to turn the knob, it was to find that it was chained from the outside.

“Fuck. Fuck,” The young woman whispered under her breath, trying desperately to push the door open— on the off chance that the porter had been lazy and didn’t latch the padlock on the chains. But, as her luck would have it, the padlock was firmly in place, keeping the door firmly shut.

Instantly, her eyes darted around the dim room, trying to look for a way to get out of there before things went to hell inside the train. But she found no other exits except the main doors, as the windows had metal screens on them to keep thieves out.

The train lurched beneath her at that moment, making her cry out as she got jostled against the door. And it wouldn’t have been bad, had the mountain of luggage behind her not come falling down; essentially trapping her right where she stood.

Just when she thought that things could get worse for her, they did when the heaviness that had been brewing inside her since she had boarded the train began to bubble up. It had her fighting back the migraine that practically split her head, all while resisting the urge to reach up and clutch at her tightening chest. She was left like a sitting duck, barely holding herself back from crying and screaming out her beloved’s name.

That was, until she remembered that Kyōjurō would be protecting the last five car trains; which most likely included the passenger car right across the car that she was in.

“Kyōjurō! Kyōjurō!” She whisper-yelled, wishing to all the gods that the demon on top of the train wouldn’t pay much attention to the ruckus that she was causing.

(Y/n) then began banging on the door with her open hand; heavy and frantic taps that she was sure the Flame Hashira would hear the moment that he came darting to the last passenger car.

Her hunch was right, thankfully, as Kyōjurō picked up on her faint calls through the noise of the train and the ruckus that the demon was making. And hearing her voice above all of that felt akin to having a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown at him; as icy fear gripped his chest.

“(Y/n)?!” The Hashira called out, kicking down the door that the demon had sealed shut with its flesh, eyes wide with panic and his heart racing in his chest the more that he heard her banging against the door and calling out his name.

Not wasting anymore time, Kyōjurō threw a quick glance over his shoulder and huffed out a frustrated sigh as he was torn between doing another mad dash to the front of all the carriages that he was protecting.

But it was a no brainer what his choice was: it was to save (Y/n) first, because she would always be his top priority.

And so, with a small leap to get to the cargo hold, he swung down the hilt of his sword and broke the lock that held the chains together; wrenching the door open and opening his arms just in time for his beloved to jump into them.

Tears marred her cheeks, but it didn’t appear that she had noticed that she had been crying in the first place, as she made no move to wipe them away. That made him feel even worse, but he brought his left hand up to cup the back of her head as he pressed her cheek to the crook of his neck.

“I’m here, shh, you’re okay. I’m here, my love.” In any other time, the effortless use of the nickname would have made him blush so hard but, at that moment, it only brought him relief. “I have you. You’re okay.”

He didn’t know why she was even there in the first place, but it really wasn’t the time or the place to ask her that. So, he decided to just ask her later.

(Y/n)’s arms automatically wrapped themselves around Kyōjurō’s middle, as she held herself as close to him as possible. The pain she felt was beginning to intensify, and the tightness in her chest began to double— and all she could do was cry; no matter how much she forced herself to numb herself down from all the negative sensations assaulting her.

She clung as tightly as she could to the back of the Hashira’s uniform, being selfish enough to not want him to part from her— because parting from her would mean certain death for him.

There was nothing more that (Y/n) wanted than for her beloved man to stay alive— so they could make all of her wishes for their future a reality. A family with him— the house in the mountains that she wanted, all the kids that she’d only seen him looking at with a sad longing in his eyes; she wanted to make him the happiest man in the world.

But she also knew that she couldn’t let it cost anyone’s life.

“(Y/n), I have to go.” Reluctantly, the blond pulled the young woman away from him; looking down at her tear-stained face before leaning down so he could brush his lips against her. “I’ll come back for you, just stay here.”

And with that, he untangled himself from his beloved (Y/n)’s arms dived back into the foray with the demon; making as quick work of it as possible; all while protecting the rest of the passengers on the train.

It was his duty, after all.

But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want things to get over and done with as quickly as possible. Which had him really thankful— yet slightly fearful for (Y/n)’s safety— when the train derailed; sending people flying, and carriages falling to the wayside of the tracks.

Kyōjurō didn’t even wait another second to see the demon start to disintegrate, because his feet carried him towards the object of his affections; his future wife.

She had been tossed back within the luggage car, making his heart sink to his stomach as he hurriedly pushed away all of the trunks and luggage bags that were blocking her from coming to him.

Her sobs were soft and muffled as she bit down on her bottom lip, but they still felt like tiny pinpricks of ice to the Flame Hashira’s heart; especially when he saw how battered she had gotten in the fiasco.

The bruise forming on her cheek was minor, but he still found himself hugging her as tight as he could— burying his face in her hair, as she clung to him once more.

In the distance, Kyōjurō picked up another presence— one that had him looking up and surveying the area. And he found himself pulling away from (Y/n) to have his hand ready at the hilt of his sword. Whatever had come was powerful, and he wanted her nowhere near it.

“Stay here, and don’t go anywhere.”

The young woman’s eyes widened at that implication, knowing what was to come; getting her stuck in a moral dilemma, that had her pinned between a rock and another hard place. Yet, she would be damned if she didn’t admit that it hurt so much. “No, no, no, you can’t go. Please. Please, Kyōjurō. Please.”

If only she could help him, then she would have. She would have done everything in her power to help him.

Her hands tried to hold him where he was, but Kyōjurō still pulled away from her again, feeling something in his gut telling him to stay put. But he wasn’t doing that; not when he had so many people to protect— especially the person whom he was going to ask to marry him after all that had happened.

“Don’t worry about me dying here,” And so, with a reassuring smile at her, the blond whispered, “I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

Those words didn’t reassure (Y/n) one bit but, before she could reach out and hold him again, the pain bearing down on her had her clutching her chest and gritting her teeth; unbeknownst to Kyōjurō, whom had just darted towards where he was sensing the newcomer’s dangerous aura.

It was as if there was a vise wrapped around (Y/n)’s neck; making her breaths come out in ragged pants, and her muscles seize up with the overall agony that coursed through her body.

And it was at that moment that she realized that, little by little, she was starting to disappear; her fingertips turning into golden dust at first, and slowly extending up to her knuckles.

“No. Not now, please. Not now,” She whimpered, completely helpless, as she stared at her shaking hands. “Fuck.”

A loud bang had her looking up from her own dilemma, making her see the bigger picture and urging her to move before she thought about it. Her legs began to carry her as fast as they could to where the cloud of dust had formed, with her being completely uncaring about how she felt and how she would end up.

What mattered to her was getting to Kyōjurō, and saving him, even if it cost her life.

Just up ahead, she could see only flashes of Akaza effortlessly fighting off Kyōjurō’s attacks, which had her pushing her legs even faster— all while more and more tears rolled down her cheeks.

“KYŌJURŌ!” She cried in a broken and hoarse tone, which fell on deaf ears as he was too engrossed in fighting off the Upper Moon demon.

It had only been a mere few minutes, but the Flame Hashira was already battered and bruised; his ribs were broken, and he was sure that he was bleeding internally at that point, yet he still pushed forward.

Only stopping when he had missed and Akaza had managed to land a painful blow to his left eye. It put him at such a hard spot, yet he didn’t want to give up.

He couldn’t give up.

His breath was also coming in shaky bursts at that moment, and his entire body ached, but he was thankful for the little reprieve that he received as he geared up for one more blow; adjusting his hold on the hilt of his sword and concentrating all of his efforts into the tenth form.

However, just as he and Akaza charged forward, (Y/n)’s voice cut through Akaza’s nonsensical chatter; and it felt like the world had come to a standstill as both of them looked over to where she was.

And it was to feel his entire body go numb when he saw her starting to disintegrate; golden dust emanating from every part of her that all the fight in him almost leaving his body. Had it not been for his last-minute thinking, he wouldn’t have taken the little window that (Y/n)’s distraction provided to swing his sword and cut off the Upper Moon demon’s head.

It fell to the ground with a muffled thud, but he couldn’t care less about it then— thinking that his job was done— as he raced towards (Y/n) and caught her just in time as she collapsed to the ground.

He hadn’t even realized that he was also crying, not until he had (Y/n) cradled in his arms as she cupped his cheeks with her half-disintegrated hands. “(Y/n), what’s wrong? What’s happening? What should I do?”

Kyōjurō’s mind was racing with so many thoughts at once, yet he could only manage to speak in broken fragments— as his sobs cut through his sentences. He sounded every inch of the broken man that he felt.

It was as if someone had just ripped his heart out right in front of him.

“I’ll… I’ll find you in your reality. I promise. You won’t ever be alone ever again, (Y/n); you mean everything to me.” His confession poured from his lips, frantic and garbled, but still legible to everyone’s ears. But what had everyone looking away was when the Flame Hashira dipped his head and claimed his beloved’s lips as the sun rose over the horizon.

Holding himself against her, all while he devolved into such loud and heartbroken sobs as he promised over and over that he would find her in her own time and reality.

After all, he was never one to back down from promises; especially when it came to the one and only love of his life.

***

When (Y/n) came to, it was to the sight of her best friend hovering above her— with her face stained with tears, and her eyes looking completely panicked. “What are you even doing here? I’ve been looking for you for almost an hour now! I thought you got kidnapped!”

Slowly, the young woman looked around her and noted that she was back at the temple in Setagaya; with her back flush against the stone pavement just behind the pagoda.

Thankfully, no one else was there to see her in such an embarrassing predicament.

“And when did you get a kimono as nice as that? Did you leave me behind just to get that? Christ, (Y/n)!” (F/n) rambled through her tears, roughly picking her best friend up by the shoulders and holding her close as she called her a dumbass over and over.

“I…” She couldn’t even answer straight, as what had transpired in the Taishō era flashed in her mind. It had her thinking if it had all been a hallucination, but when she looked down at the kimono she wore, she could tell that it wasn’t.

Because there was no other explanation for the fiery red kimono she donned, other than her traversing time and spending almost a year with Rengoku Kyōjurō. It seemed to her that time flowed differently in both realities, because she was sure that ten months had already passed.

“You what?”

“I was with him… with Kyōjurō,” (Y/n) whispered, feeling her own tears well up in her eyes, before they began falling down her cheeks. “I… he fought Akaza, and he lived… but I disappeared.”

“You’re not making any sense, (Y/n). Did you hit your head hard?” With those words, (F/n) reached up and felt for any bumps to the back of her friend’s head— only to find none. “And where’s your bag? Did you leave it somewhere?”

The young woman sat there instead of answering, completely frozen as her silent tears gradually turned into sobs. All the while, her arms wrapped themselves around her friend, and she cried her heart out— for all the things that had been, and all of the things that could have been between her and her beloved Hashira.

She didn’t even know how long they sat there on the ground but, once she was all cried out, (F/n) transferred her to one of the benches that were strewn around the temple; letting her get her bearings, before she set off to try and help her friend find her bag.

With every minute that passed, the pain in (Y/n)’s heart grew harder and harder to deal with— and she wanted nothing more than to go home at that moment, if only to curl up into a ball and try to remember the way that Kyōjurō’s lips felt against hers.

“You look so sad, my love…” The familiar voice had the aforementioned woman looking up, especially when she felt a warm and gentle hand cup her cheek and tilt her face up.

Slowly, tears that she didn’t know she could still produce welled up in her eyes— as she took in the glorious sight that Kyōjurō made in his own black kimono. He had a scar on his closed left eye, but it gave him such a rugged edge that— dare she say— was not unattractive at all. And partnered with the tears, her lips pulled up at the corners in a disbelieving yet relieved smile; something that was all for him as she sprung up and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re here! How?” Her hands clung tightly to him, curling into the material of his clothes as she buried her face in the crook of his neck— taking in the scent that was so intoxicating and entirely Kyōjurō.

“Well, I had to return your bag…” The blond chuckled, as he ensconced his beloved in his arms— brushing his lips against the crown of her head, and smiling when he felt her lips brush against his skin. “That, and I wanted to ask if you would marry me.”

“Yes! Yes, but… how?” (Y/n) answered with a slight laugh, pulling back and cupping Kyōjurō’s cheeks in her hands; as if to make sure that he really was there.

The young man grinned then, taking hold of one of her hands and turning his head to press his lips against the inside of her wrist. “It took a while to arrange everything with Oyakata-sama, and to figure out how to get here, but I’m sure that one of his descendants from this time and reality would have my identification papers for me.”

Silence passed between the couple then, as (Y/n) tossed and turned his words in her head, before giving in and wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his— in a much-anticipated kiss.

She had so many questions left unanswered, and she was extremely tempted to face the gods once more and ask them what exactly was happening, but she reckoned that it was best not to challenge them anymore.

After all, she had gotten her wish: someone who would love and cherish her forever; and that man was Rengoku Kyōjurō.

BONUS:

(F/n) huffed irately as she stepped back from a thicket of bushes within the temple grounds, still feeling cross with her best friend for disappearing just like that— but not understanding what she was getting at with her explanation of meeting a manga character.

And, finally feeling defeated in her search for (Y/n)’s bag, she circled back to where she left the other woman— only to see her pulling away from a kiss with a weird looking man; someone that looked eerily similar to Rengoku from the Demon Slayer manga.

Instantly, her hackles were raised, as she let out a barking cry, “Hey, you cool cosplay bitch, get away from her!”

Kyōjurō’s eyebrows furrowed at that, as he didn’t understand a lick of what the other woman had said— but he turned back to his future wife and asked, “Is that the friend that you’d mentioned before? She seems protective. You’ve been in really good hands, then.”

“Didn’t you hear me, you weirdo? Get your hands off of (Y/n)!”

“She has my thanks for protecting you all this time.”

[darkmoonslayer]

The Curse- Avengers

Summary: Being saved from torture was her dream but it ended up being even harder to manage

I was thrown to the ground pain flaming around my whole body made me want to scream. But with all the experiments they have done i lost the ability to. I slowly crawl to my bed the foam that was in the corner of the concrete room. My head pounding as my body shakes uncontrollably. I finally pass out.

My mom always said that my powers were a gift and that i should treasure them. But all i see is a curse. I was born with the power of invisibility. I could turn it on and off as i pleased. But one day, the day that made me hate my mother, father and my gift was my 11th birthday.

When i turned 11 my mother woke me up with cake for breakfast. She told me we were going on vacation and that i need to pack a backpack. I was really exited, but that didn’t last long. Once i was all packed i met my mother and father downstairs. There were these men in black suits. As soon as they saw me the cuffed my wrists and quickly dragged me out of the house. I screamed for my mother and father to help me but they didn’t care. I looked back to see one of the men giving my father a brief case full of money.

I cried, and cried. I don’t know what i did to deserve this. Out of no where a sharp pain in my arm made me look down to see a needle coming out of my arm. I started to get dizzy and tiered. That when everything went black.

I wake to loud explosions going off down the hall. One of the scientists come into my cell looking around for me.

“Where the fuck did she go?” He asks. I try to turn off my invisibility not wanting to get beaten again if they find out. But it doesn’t work.

“Damnit they are going to kill me!” The scientists grunts out as he runs out without locking the door. I get up slowly limping as the pain in my body increases. I reach for the door but my hand goes through the door.

What the Fuck.

I look back to make sure i don’t see my dead body anywhere. Once I’m satisfied that i am not dead i walk through the door. I see a women with red hair fighting one of the guards. And man in blue with a shield is to my right he opens the doors letting the prisoners out and they run away. We are getting rescued, i limp my way down the hallway fallowing the rest of the prisoners. Once we are out of the building they are taken to a jet.

“It looks like we are full on this jet, we have everyone out lets get out of here” a guy with a bow says into his coms. The jet closes before I’m able to get in so i follow the guy with the bow to the other jet.

“Everyone good?” A guy says as we walk in.

“All good bruce” The guy with the bow says.

“Hey Nat i think its your turn to fly us out” The guy in blue says as he takes off his mask and puts his shield down. Along with him is a guy with one arm.

A second later a man with a Metal suit, and another women comes on the jet.

“Hey Bucky you dropped this” The women says to the one armed man

“Thanks Wanda” He smiles to her. I start to get tiered so i sit down and watch them.

So Nat, Bruce,Bucky, Wanda. Now i just need to know the bow guy and the metal guy.

“Hey clint, did you get the hard drive data from there computers” The metal guy says but is now out of his suit.

“Yeah, here you go” The bow guy says handing it over

“So did you find everyone?” Wanda asks

“No there was one missing, i think they must have took her before i was able to get there” Steve explains.

“Poor girl in the file it says she was taken on her birthday.” Bucky says looking into the computer

Wait thats me! They are talking about me! But I’m right here!

I try to take my invisibility off, it doesn’t work. How am i supposed to communicate? I get up slowly, stabbing pain rip through my ribs. I go up to Bruce and try to touch his shoulder but my hand goes right through.

Great. What am i supposed to do now? Follow them until i can find a way to talk to them.

About an hour later i watch them as they talk and dress some small cuts that were made from the mission. I learn the guys name is Tony. We finally make it to a large building, they refer to it as ‘the compound’. Once we land they all walk out, me trailing slowly behind. The walk into the building through a large garage type door.

A couple steps in a alarm goes off.

“Friday what’s wrong” Tony asks

“Unauthorized personal” a voice says

“Where are they Friday”

“Behind you” Friday says they all turn around jumping into fighting poses getting ready.

“I don’t see them Friday” Tony says looking around. I wave my arms as best i can trying not of overwhelm myself with pain.

“I only see the thermal outline, here” Friday says as a screen pulls up in-front of tony. Pain in my stomach makes me double over in pain.

“What the hell?” Tony says looking from me to the screen

“Ugh, okay thats weird” Tony says stepping back so the others can see. Pain increases in my body making me fall to my knees.

“Do they look hurt to you?” Steve says

A  chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘ya’ is said before my vision gets spotty.

“Do you think this is the missing kid?” Nat asks

“I think so” Steve says as i start to fall into unconsciousness.

Once i pass out my body shows itself. My powers must not work while I’m sleeping. 

[13thbaronzemo]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 3

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation’s neighbors, and the baron himself has ordered you to come on vacation with him in Ibiza.

Disclaimer: This is the continuation of a fanfic written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

'Castle Zemo has been here since before you arrived and it will still be here when you return,' Ms. Helena assured you. Unlike yourself, the castle didn't go missing for five years. After five years of mourning, you had been the first person she witnessed return from the ether. As far as she was concerned, you were the only ghost to ever haunt those halls. She saw, through your empty eyes, how impermanent life is. They were the same eyes she saw the first time you stepped foot into the barony after losing your whole world along with your hometown of Novi Grad.

'You can't waste your youth between these old walls,' she sighed. You realized, taking a look at your back at your life, that she was right. You've been displaced in time, both mourning and being mourned, and chose to become one with history instead of living in the present. 'Now, go! Get some fresh air, dance, get some sun, fall in love, get your heart broken! Live!' Ms. Helena, ready to return from retirement just so you could take a vacation, sent you home to pack your bags. 'Just remember to send me a postcard.'

You'd almost forgotten all about it, excited and exhausted as you were after the flight, but a rack full of them reminded you of your promise. Ibiza Airport offered tourists a taste of the island right after they stepped off the plane, so there were gift shops filled with mementos of times you had yet to live. You spent your own money in one of them. You were saving up the euros he slipped under your door and that you hadn't already use to pay for the car, train, and plane that got you here in the first place.

Not feeling ready to step outside into the world and the setting Mediterranean sun just yet, you took a seat in a little coffee shop that overlooked the bus stop and wrote to Mrs. Helena.

After you finished your drink, paid for it, and tipped the waitress, you took another peek at the envelope and the absurd amount of money still left inside. He gave you more banknotes than information about his whereabouts. You understood why he couldn't, being a wanted man and all, but you wished you knew as much about him as he seemed to know about you. All you could be sure of was that he wanted you here, in Ibiza, where he would be for the next 10 days. And while you had dreamed about him greeting for you here at Arrivals, with a flower bouquet and a sun-kissed face, as you sleept on the plane, you knew better than to hope. After all, it was the possibility of getting lost among all the tourists visiting the island that gave you the nerve to travel here. But, if you were to be honest with yourself, the smaller possibility of being accosted by him for the third time was what made you take time off from work.

As you boarded the bus that would take you to your cheap - well, cheap for the likes of a baron - hotel, you took one last lingering look at the Arrivals entrance.

The sun was sinking into the sea when you got off the bus, so you stood there and stared. You’ve never seen the sea and it seemed like a lifetime since you’ve felt the sun on your skin. The sea breeze must’ve frozen you in place because a family of five knocked you over and walked all over you. The father apologized for childrens' crimes in a language you recognized as Italian. You reassured him that you were fine in a mix of English and Spanish, the two languages you’ve been speaking to the airport staff and vendors since you landed. After shaking off the embarrassment and dusting off your jean shorts, you started moving again, dragging the small and swiveling trolley behind you. You had packed every piece of summer clothing you owned and there was still room left. That’s where you put the magnets and Mrs. Helena’s postcard.

Inside the hotel lobby, you could get stomped on if you were to stop and stare at another shiny thing again. It was crowded, but that is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? To go  unnoticed? When the Italian father waved at you, hoarding his children into the elevator, you knew that you had already made an impression.

“How may I help-”

“Here’s my ID” you interrupted the receptionist. “I made a reservation via phone in that name just yesterday.”

You knew you were being rude, but you needed to get out of those clothes you’ve been sweating in since you left home. The last thing you wanted was to waste time spelling out your name.

“Of course,” she smiled. It was the same smile you’d put on during visiting hours. It was gone the moment she took a gander at your ID. “Excuse me.” She grabbed the phone off the desk and turned her back to you. Now, that was rude. Your Catalan wasn’t as good as your Spanish, but you did overhear the words ‘girl’ and ‘here’. “I'm sorry, Miss. There seems to be a problem with your reservation, but don’t worry, we'll sort it out soon.” Then, handing you back the ID card, she turned towards the sitting area and invited you to take a seat.

You swallowed a groan and put on your customer service smile before thanking her. After all, whatever mix-up may have occurred, it couldn’t have been her fault. Hell, it might’ve been your fault. It was closing in on a week since you had a good night’s sleep. On the bright side, you had some time to stare at everything shiny while you waited. You’ve never been to a place that glowed as brightly as Ibiza. Everything from the sun, to the sea at dawn, to the light fixtures in the hotel lobby, everything that glittered was gold.

When you looked back at the receptionist’s desk, you saw her looking back, but she wasn’t the only one. A man, no older than yourself, followed her line of sight and found you. From his black suit and hat and his white gloves and shirt, you could see that he was a chauffeur. What you couldn’t see was what he handed over to the receptionist. Stepping towards you, a smile spread across his face. As for yourself, you shrunk back into your seat.

“Good evening, Miss,” he spoke, his English spiced by a Spanish accent. “I’ve been sent to collect your luggage.”

“By whom?” You asked as if you haven’t already pieced the disparate pieces of the puzzle together.

“By his lordship,” he whispered before grabbing your bags. “He is waiting for you in the car. Follow me, please.”

Looking back at the receptionist one last time, you pulled the purse off his arm and slid it onto your shoulder. “I can carry this myself, thank you.”

“Apologies, Miss,” he bowed his head and followed you out the front door.

“Which car?” You asked once the both of you were outside.

“Follow me,” he whispered and walked ahead of you. When he walked out of the parking lot, you wondered if you should’ve believed a total stranger in the first place, but then he said: “The limousine.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the street, there was a black car and its shadow: a limousine.

“Just a moment, Miss,” he rolled your trolley suitcase to the trunk.

You slowly approached the side of it, the blackened windows preventing your eye from penetrating inside. Before you even reached the passenger door, it popped open. Taking a step back, you forced your spooked heart to settle. When the chauffeur finally made it back beside you, you were too startled to say anything about the seemingly faulty door.

“Forgive me, milord,” he bowed, backing away from the now fully opened door that was obscuring who he was talking to. “I shouldn’t have kept the young miss waiting. Please,” he waved you closer to the car.

As you approached it apprehensively, you heard a voice you had come to terms with never hearing again: “Good evening, my dear,” he removed a pair of purple sunglasses as he beckoned you inside with the same dark and deep eyes you were ready to miss for the rest of your life.

The interior was almost as bright as the lobby you left, white like marble and illuminated by a golden glow. One side had an entire cream couch just for the two of you while the other had a bar filled with crystal glassware and bottles bearing labels you don’t recognize. Yet it was him that you were most blinded by Baron Helmut Zemo. He wore a jacket that seemed the summer version of his fur coat and the button-up underneath was the same royal purple as his forsaken mask. As you took his hand and a seat next to him, you saw that the sun had managed to kiss his face, if only a little. Then, while you were lost in his eyes, he brought you back by bringing the back of your hand to his lips:

“How was your flight?”

“How did you-”

“How did I know you came here via plane? I didn’t, but it is the most popular way,” he smirked. “I did, however, know that you have a room here. Well, had.”

“I didn’t even get to…” you started, as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, little circles to calm you down. “And the receptionist, she…”

“You’ll forgive her for not spoiling the surprise, won’t you?” Then, seemingly out of the salty Mediterranean air, he brought before you a bouquet of red roses. “Welcome to Ibiza.”

The drive to his villa was spent sipping the champagne he popped in his fingers and spilled all over his hand, giggles bubbling out of you as he offered you a crystal flute. With your heavy head on his shoulder and his arm around yours, you listened to his voice rather than his words. He talked about the sun that had just been swallowed by the sea, about how it gave life to everything on the island.

"Ibiza also has a nightlife, as I'm sure you've heard," he spoke into your scalp while his nose was in your hair. "I could tell you all about it, but I'd you live it for yourself. Tonight."

You were content floating in the foam inside your flute, getting drunk on his cologne and falling asleep to the soothing sound of his voice. "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?"

"No, my dear," he rose from his seat when the ride was over. "And I have to wake you up now. We've arrived."

The night had already taken over the island by the time you got out of the limousine, but the horizon was as bright as ever. Stars, ships, and city lights which way you turned your head. And, when he led you inside, your eyes hurt from the brilliance of the interior. Everything was light and soft, nothing like the dark and chilly castle. There was life within these walls, potted plants, and music in the air.

"The bedrooms are on the second floor." He offered you his arm to take as he lifted your trolley in the other. "You can freshen up while I prepare something for you to eat. Are you hungry?"

"No, I had something to eat on the flight."

"A light snack then," he decided.

There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor. He made it clear that you can choose to sleep in your bed instead of insisting on sharing one with him. You walked into the room that had his smell lingering in the air and, under his hungry eyes, into his trap. But you didn't mind being his prey. You even expected him to bite down on the fading teeth marks he left under your right ear. But he backed away while handing you your luggage.

After a shower that soothed your very soul, it was time for a change of clothes. You only had one dress that you hoped was fancy enough for a baron. It wasn't made out of any expensive material, but it did compliment your curves. As you walked down the stairs in your heels, you hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself and fall like you did the last time.

As if summoned by the sound of your clicking shoes, he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "A vision," he bellowed, eyes wide and arms spread wider. "You are a vision, my dear."

"I bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here," you blushed.

"No vision as lovely has ever stepped foot in this villa, I assure you," he offered you his arm to take again as he guided you to the kitchen.

"Or is that what you say to them?" You jabbed his side, hoping the joke would land. "Thank you for flattering me, but can you be brutally honest and tell me if this dress fits the occasion or not?"

"While it's a perfect fit, it is far too elegant for a nightclub," he sat you down on a stool before the bouquet of roses he'd placed in a glass vase and served you a china cup of cherry blossom tea. "If you'd like, we can go shopping for something more appropriate tomorrow. My treat."

He didn't let you protest, or dig up the envelope of banknotes from your purse. Instead, he insisted on keeping your mouth busy by feeding you himself because you two had a long night ahead.'

Between cheeses and grapes, he treated you to Turkish delights. The pleasure he took in watching you eat from his hand emboldened you enough to wipe the white powder off of the tip of his fingers using your tongue. The hunger in his eyes only grew when he slowly slipped one of them between your lips and you sucked it in. If it were up to you, the two of you'd be rushing upstairs into your shared bedroom and not come out until the sun does. However, when his phone started vibrating on the tabletop, both of you jumped.

"The chauffeur is here," he cleared his voice as he checked his phone. "Come, my dear." The baron had to clean your mess and his, the powder and your lipstick, with a tissue, before he could help you off the stool.

Before your mind could catch up with you, before you could ask why he sent the chauffeur away when he knew the two of you would be needing him tonight, you were already in the driveway admiring a purple convertible. It was a jewel on the road, the city lights and the night sky reflecting off of its polish finish, and you got to 'feel the sea breeze,' as the baron had ordered you to.

"Let your hair down and enjoy the wind whipping through it," he whispered. "The night is ours."

The night had barely begun to take over, yet you already felt like you conquered it. When you arrived in the island's paradise, the nightclub known as Eden, you knew that you made it to the top of the world. The guard let you pass as soon as they spotted you on the baron's arm and a second one guided you to the much less crowded and far more quiet VIP area. The speakers hummed through the walls that were drenched in blue and red lights and the dance floor was covered with bodies coming together in communion. It was a nightly ritual you can't remember the last time you participated in, but you recall it never attending one of this magnitude.

"Luciano," the baron called out over the beat.

"Baron," a man, dressed in black that seemed to blend into the shadows stood up from the table the bodyguard had led you to. "You're looking as alive as you sounded on the phone," he coughed in Spanish, putting out his cigarette to shake the baron's hand. "I can't say the same for myself." He was tall, taller than your Lord, and the darkness the strobe lights couldn't illuminate added his shadow to the height.

He chose to ignore your Spanish greeting as if you were just another in a long line of girls that had been brought before him. But that didn't stop the baron from introducing you as an 'hermosa visión'. The compliment made you smile just as wide the second time. And, after you were invited to sit across from this Luciano, he made a remark that you barely registered, distracted as you were by the sound of your Lord ordering drinks in Catalan.

"You're Sokovian like my Heidi, yes?"

You shook your head and said in Spanish: "Excuse me?"

"Heidi!"

A woman, sitting by herself on a black velvet stool, twisted her torso before turning off her phone. You were surprised to have missed her because, as soon as she stood up, she stood out with her dress as white as her skin and as bright as her blond hair.

"Good evening," the baron bowed his head slightly as she stepped closer to the couch.

"Heidi, this is the baron I told you about," Luciano gestured grandly towards your side of the couch.

"Baron Helmut Zemo?" She blinked, stars in her eyes the color of the strobe lights. "We thought you were dead or locked up or-" she stuttered in Sokovian as she sat down and leaned over the glass table.

"What is my silly girl saying, Baron? I could never learn the language."

"Papi," she spun around to face him. "You didn't tell me it was Baron Zemo we were hosting tonight."

"I wanted to surprise you, baby," he tucked her long blond hair behind her ear. "I know how much you've missed speaking in your mother tongue. Look, he even brought you a play mate."

When you were pointed out, you pushed your hair out of your face and waved. When he saw your stilted movements and your strained smile, the baron brought your shaking hand to his lips. He knew you had been placed in an awkward position, but he calmed you with a few circles drawn with his thumb on the back of your hand. He then made the introduction himself, releasing your hand so that you can shake Heidi's. Her smile was sincere, so yours grew at the sight of it.

"Why don't you girls go onto the dance floor?" Luciano leaned back. "The baron and I have business to discuss."

"Come on," Heidi dragged you up by the hand that was still in hers. "Business bores me."

"What was that, baby?"

"I said you're boring, Papi," she answered a laughing Luciano in Spanish.

As for yourself, you looked back at the baron who reassured you by squeezing your other hand: "I'll be right here, my dear. Now, go! Have fun! That's an order!"

You tried obeying his order, you did, but it took Heidi dragging you to the bar and buying the two of you drinks to relax your muscles and settle your nerves. She was brazen, sure. But she was also sweet. The smile that stretched her face also lit it up. She was another shiny thing you were drawn to on this island and she just so happened to be Sokovian. Three drinks in, she was already teaching you Catalan and a couple of her signature dance moves. You talked about Castle Zemo and the tourists who had thought you all the other languages. Soon enough you were grinding against each in the flurry of giggles. The music was just as addicting as the alcohol and it made you even more uninhibited. When she asked about the baron's performance in the bedroom, you answered so fast, your head started spinning. The best you've ever had. You asked about her relationship with Luciano and she wasn't ashamed to admit to her sugar baby status.

"Ladies, mind if I cut in?"

As if he could hear his name being whispered across the crowded dance floor and over the thrumming beat, the baron appeared beside you.

“Milord,” you blinked up at him, a sobering sight for drunk eyes.

“Hello, milord,” she wrapped her arms around you, not ready to let him have you back just yet. “Do you dance as well as you fuck?”

“Heidi,” you gasped, but soon you dissolved into giggles. You even wrapped your arms around her middle. “Stop it!”

“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good of a dancer,” he smirked, seemingly unshaken by her slurred words. “Heidi, Luciano has asked to see you in what I believed he called his private booth. He tried calling you, but-”

“He wants to play,” she whispered in your ear. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Then she kissed you on each cheek, each of them as sloppy and glossy. “Milord,” she attempted to make a curtsy but would’ve fallen over if you hadn’t caught her and sent her on her way.

In a sea of sweaty party people, you could only see him. The alcohol made everything glow brighter, including your baron. Like a moth who doesn’t know any better, you knocked your chest against his in an attempt to get closer.

“Are you having fun, my dear?” He steadied you with his hands, sliding them down your spine and stopping at the small of your back.

“Yes,” you smoothed his shoulder pads with your palms, enjoying the sensation of the fabric against your fingers. “But I thought you brought me here to dance.”

“For where I was standing, I could see the two of you were dancing,” he chuckled. “Were my eyes deceiving me?”

“You’re the one I wanted to dance with,” you slurred, emboldened by the liquor flowing freely through your veins. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you dragged him down and dipped your tongue into the shell of his ear. “Heidi’s pretty and all, but she’s not you.”

“My Lady,” he hissed, holding you so close he might’ve crushed you if he applied force. “What do you think you’re doing?”

With the beat of the music under your feet and his rumbling chest against your breasts, you swayed to the music in your heart. Your breaths were in each other’s ears, your lips against the shell of his and his under your lobe, in the same spot he left his stamp the last time the two of you were entangled.

“My Lord, what are you doing? You’ve barely touched me,” you gasped, grinding against him when you felt his teeth tease your sensitive skin. “You’ve barely spent time with me,” you moaned, moving your hands up and down his arms and feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingertips. “Why bring me here at all?”

“You needed this,” he grunted, his groin growing between your bodies. “You’ve been living among dead things for too long. You needed to be among the living again.” After licking the wound his teeth reopened, his mouth moved from underneath your ear to murmur: “And you needed me.” The hands slid down the small of your back to cup your ass cheeks and press your pelvis up against his. “You need me right now, don’t you?”

“I do,” you sighed, sinking your nails into his shoulders for stability. “I need you.” He had shoved his knee between your legs and your body compiled: you were now rubbing your bare cunt against his clothed thigh. If he hadn’t figured out that you left the villa pantyless yet, he knew now. “You ruined me for every other man.”

His hands smoothed your dress again, but this time they climbed up your spine. When they arrived at the back of your head, one got tangled in your hair while the other went right through. Yanking your head back, he exposed your throat to his teeth and your eyes to his hunger. The baron was starving.

While nobody else around you could hear it over the music, he must’ve tasted your moans under the teeth he was dragging up your throat. When his mouth made it to your chin, he chuckled: “What a spoiled little girl you are! Haven’t I given you enough? What is it that you want now? Me? Right here, right now?” Nipping the thin skin under your chin, he continued. “You could wrap those legs around me and I could slip my cock right into your sopping cunt. Yes, I know you’re not wearing any panties.” Releasing his grip on your air, he cupped your cheeks to keep your eyes on him instead. “Or do you want to be fucked in a bathroom stall like the dirty little girl you are?”

“Please,” you begged him, but you couldn’t even begin to articulate. Your body, hot and loose because of the liquor, was more coherent. Your thighs tightened around his own and your spine arched like a bow. “Oh, please.”

The baron bunched up your skirt in between your bodies with one hand while the other wound up around your throat, still tender from his teeth. “Please who?” He pressed you for an answer as he pressed his thumb against your slick and swollen clitoris.

“Please, m-milord,” you whined. “The bathroom. Take me to the bathroom.”

The walk to the men’s bathroom was a blur, but you didn’t need your eyes to find your destination. The baron’s hand was secure on your side, guiding you through the gaggle of dancers and hiding you from prying eyes. The bathroom was more light with more blue than red and the stall was more spacious than what you were used to. You initially imagined you must be out in the open, my when he turned the handle, it made a clicking noise, the sound of secrecy.

When he turned towards you, his eyes were wild in the blue neon lights and his hands were claws as he cornered you to capture your tender thighs. “You dirty girl,” he chuckled, as dark as his blown-out eyes. Then, as he lifted your feet off the tile floor and drove you up the wall of the stall, he snarled: “You couldn’t wait until we were back at the villa, could you? You had to have my cock right here, right now, didn’t you?”

You tried to get a hold of the tile wall, but failed and sunk your nails into his scalp instead. “Milord,” you called to him as you were climbing to the ceiling without your consent. “Milord, I’m gonna fall.”

Your Lord sat you atop of his shoulders, one thigh on each side of his face. “I won’t allow it,” he growled before his head disappeared under your skirt. “I’ve waited long enough for you to come to me, and I’m not letting you go now.”

He was right: you weren’t falling, you were flying. The swirling of his tongue around your cunt’s engorged numb was making your head spin and his five o'clock shadow scratching your inner thighs were stimulating every sinus. And you were sure that every ear inside the men’s bathroom could hear, but you didn’t stop yourself from screaming out for him.

When he slowed down his assault on your cunt, it was only to speak to it. “I missed this. I missed the sweet noises you make. I missed my sweet girl,” he licked up your labia, taking his time to taste it. “And I missed my sweet pussy.”

“Oh, God,” you called to the ceiling and the skies.

“No, not God,” he spat between your folds before sliding a finger between them. “I’m no God. No god is making you feel this way.” He pushed the protruding digit deeper before pulling it out again. “It’s a man.” Then, he pushed and pulled at a punishing pace, his mouth circling your clitoris again. “It’s me. Now, come on my tongue. Come on, come on my tongue like the dirty girl that you are.”

Baron Zemo had given out an order and you, his loyal servant, obeyed. Squeezing your thighs down on the sides of his head, you rode his face to the finish. You pulled at his hair and pushed his head down all at the same time. Everything was too much, but never enough. It was a sobering experience that made the alcohol in your veins dissipate. Still, as he slid you down the wall of the stall, you were drunk on the dopamine released by your orgasm.

“Just as obedient as I remember you to be. And twice as sweet,” he licked his lips as he whipped your face with his thumbs tenderly. His face shone with your juices, his chin being especially shiny. “Would you like a taste?”

You nodded, not feeling prepared to practice speaking just yet. He held up your head with a hand at the back of your throat while he brought the finger that burrowed inside you up to your bottom lip. You tasted the tip at first under his spreading smirk, but as soon as you took him in, he parted his lips and started panting. And his breathing got louder the more of him you sucked inside. When you took all of him, the entire finger up to the knuckle, and began bobbing your head, he gritted his teeth and groaned.

“Do you still want my cock, dirty girl?”

Pulling back from his finger with a pop, you bit your bottom lip. “Yes, milord.”

“Would you bow before me to get to it?”

“Yes, milord,” you smiled stupidly, drunk on the dopamine.

By the time he took himself out of his trousers, you were on your knees saying your pleas. You missed the taste of him as much as he claimed to miss your cunt. You stuck out your tongue and tasted his precum that was already pouring out. When the tip met with your mouth, you locked your lips around it and moaned. This caused him to call to the ceiling:

He grunted, grabbing you by the hair and yanking you off of him. “I want to paint those pretty little lips myself.”

You moaned aloud at that, eyes glazed over and mind muddled him. His touch, taste, and smell were taking over you again and all you could do was beg him for more, more, more. “Please, please, please,” you breathed as he slid his hand up and down his shaft and snarled, his teeth bared. “Please, please, please.”

He growled and the grip in your hair tightened. “That’s a good girl,” he managed to get out before spilling in your open mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

Once the steam started, he couldn’t stop himself. If you could’ve, you wouldn’t have stopped him either. The tangy taste of him transported you back to the first time he pushed you down into this position. He had a mask on then, but now his face was wearing his emotions. He was in pain, the pleasurable kind. His eyebrows were knitted together and his hair was falling on his forehead. While you were the one serving him, the one swallowing his come and cleaning his cock with your tongue, you felt powerful. And, as he called you his baroness and said you never looked more beautiful than you did in that moment, you knew that you would never feel this powerful again.

“Occupied,” he slammed the door in another man’s nose.

A voice swore in English from the other side. “What, man? The whole damn bathroom?”

Yes, the whole bathroom. Baron Zemo was standing at the entrance to the men’s bathroom to keep out men as you freshened up. You were starting to sober up, splashing water across your face to whip away your runny make-up.

“You remain a vision, my dear,” he held out his arm when you were done.

“Now I'm sure that’s what you say to all the girls,” you said, too satiated and exhausted to even think about the implications of your statement.

“There’s nothing more beautiful in this world than a woman in the afterglow,” he whispered, a wide smirk shadowing his lips before he swung the door open. “It’s all yours, my friend.”

“I almost pissed myself, man! Not cool!”

You smothered your laughter into his shoulder while he walked you back to the VIP lounge. “You think they noticed how long we’ve been gone?” You squeezed his arm with both hands. Your flushed and bare face must’ve been enough to give away the game anyway, so you didn’t know why you bothered to hide from Heidi.

“They’ve been gone for just as long,” he winked. “He called her into his booth, remember?”

The reunion with your Sokovian sister revealed that she at some point also had to remove her make-up. She invited you to sit next to her and immediately asked about the intimate details. You amused her but refused to drink any more alcohol. You asked for water instead.

While the two of you were swooning over the sex you just had, the men in question had yet to sit down. They had their backs turned to you and their glasses full. However, they never got to finish their drinks.

“Baby, it’s time to say goodbye to your new friend.” He didn’t even look at you as he said all this, focusing his narrow gaze on the other man instead. “The baron was just leaving.”

Heidi’s pitch was higher when she spoke Spanish, so she almost squeaked out: “Papi, make him stay.”

“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” the baron began apologizing. “It’s been a long day and we’re still suffering from jet lag.” He looked at you. That was your cue.

“Yes,” you yawned. “I’m sorry, Heidi. You know how far away Sokovia used to be, right?”

“Well, if you have to go, then you have to promise you’ll be back tomorrow. Papi, make him promise to bring her back tomorrow.”

Her Papi took one look at his baby’s pleading eyes, then another at the baron’s poker face, then sighed. “Very well. Baron, we’ll finish our talk tomorrow night.”

While Luciano looked more than eager to escort you out himself, he had to wait for Heidi to hug you tightly as she typed her number into your phone. She only let you go after kissing you good night.

“I didn’t even have to lie,” you yawed as he draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. “I so, so sleepy.”

“Which one wore you out, the flight or I?”

“Both,” you tucked your head under his chin.

Either the sea breeze had turned into a chill, or your tired body was cooling down. Whichever one it was, the chauffeur covered the convertible at the baron’s demand. It was either his warm chest that put you to sleep or the purring engine. Whichever one it was, you woke up to Baron Zemo caring you up the stairs like a groom would his bride.

“Hush now, my dear,” he shushed you. “Get some sleep. We have a full day ahead of us.”

[miraclekittyandbug]

Ten Questions With A Twist Chapter 3

Here we are! Chapter three of Ten Questions with a twist! Sorry I was a day late, I had some problems with my health. 

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 (This one) ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

Later that night, after a patrol that left them both wind-whipped, Chat Noir and Ladybug sat on the edge of the Eiffel Tower yet again, staring at the stars. 

“So,” Chat began, “green and orange?”

Ladybug’s face lit up as she remembered how bold she had been earlier in the day. “Yeah! I like green too, and orange is the color of the sunset. Now whenever I look at the sky in the evening, I’ll be reminded of him.”

“That’s nice.” A moment of silence hung in the air before Chat decided he needed to break it. “I have an idea.”

Ladybug was somewhat scared by this confession. The last time he had “an idea” she woke up the next morning with her entire torso bruised from a game of “let’s see how far we can throw each other” (Surprisingly, Ladybug had won. But Chat insisted he was too nervous to use his full muscle power, in case he were to hurt her. He claimed he had only used a portion of his strength and still, that bruise didn’t go away for weeks.) “What’s this ‘idea’, Chat?”

His eyes showed a spark of mischievousness that had become his trademark. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

“No. No way, Chat!”

“You’re totally right, that’s far too many. Ten! We’ll play ten questions!”

“Chat you know why we can’t do that.”

He decided to plead ignorance, shrugging to indicate he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Chat, we’re not supposed to know each other’s identities…” She continued in a whisper, “no matter how much we want to.” That last part was clearly not meant for Chat to hear. He continued staring at the sky for a moment, praying that she had meant what he thought she meant. Praying that she wanted this too. Praying that he wasn’t making a mistake. He wondered if the stars could grant wishes, had they been wished hard enough.

“Well that’s alright, because these ten questions aren’t for you, my lady, they’re for that boy you like.”

Ladybug was taken aback by this. “What?”

Chat continued, “I have a list of ten questions, all written down for you.” He unzipped one of his pockets and pulled out a small piece of paper. “You have to ask that boy you like all ten of them, even if you already know the answer. Ask them in any order you like.”

“But that could put him at risk too! I can’t tell you all these answers!”

“Ah ah ah.” He put his finger up to stop her right there, “This isn’t just a game, this is a challenge.” He paused, leaving Ladybug time to look confused. “Ask him every one of those questions, but don’t tell me the answers. Instead, I’m going to guess what he said. If I get them all right, I get to take you on a date. Anything I don’t guess right, you don’t have to tell me. Deal?” 

“And what will I get if I win, Chaton?”

He smiled meekly, having not thought that far ahead. “Bragging rights?”

“Ha! No way, kitty. If- no, when I win, You have to admit that puns aren’t funny!”

Chat considered this, then nodded his head, “It’s a good thing I’m gonna win then.” He put out his gloved hand, daring her to shake it. He thought, maybe if he focused hard enough, he could read her thoughts, but no such luck.

Ladybug surprised him by putting her hand in his and shaking it. They both took off shortly after that, Ladybug going home to read over this list of questions, and Chat returning home to prepare himself for the next day. He was more ready than ever to find out who his lady really was behind the mask.

At school the next day, Adrien was a nervous wreck. He asked Gorilla to get him to school as early as possible and so was left to wait for fifteen minutes before any other students showed up. And then when other people started to show up, his nerves went through the roof. All of a sudden, every conversation he couldn’t hear became suspicious. Every whisper put him on guard. Every time somebody so much as glanced at him, his heart rate soared. Eventually, he realized he would probably have an anxiety attack if he subjected himself to more of this than absolutely necessary.

Luckily, the warning bell rang, reminding him that, even if he did want to stand here and wait, class would start here in about five minutes and he still needed to stop at his locker to pick up his things. A final glance behind him showed that the courtyard was clear, save for a streak of blue-black hair racing toward the school. Typical Marinette, Adrien thought, before making his way to his locker.

Barely five minutes later, Adrien plopped down in his seat in a way that would put his father to shame. He couldn’t worry about grace at a time like this, though. He was out of breath and got to his seat just in time, the final bell ringing a few seconds after he sat down.

Marinette burst into the room just as the bell rang. Once again, she managed to be almost late. She bent down and put her hands on her knees, catching her breath and steadying herself. Now that she made it to class, she seemed to be in less of a rush to get to her seat. Her whole body sagging from exhaustion, she waved at the class before making her way around the first table. Briefly, she stopped in front of Adriens desk and opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but she must have forgotten, as she walked away to take her seat.

Ms. Bustier started to sort through the pages on her desk, preparing for the first class of the day. Adrien got out his tablet and slouched in his seat. Was Ladybug not going to ask the questions? Did he do something to scare her away? Or worse yet, was this all one big coincidence? A lot of people’s favorite color is green, a lot of people are fond of orange. Maybe he jumped the gun, got too excited to see that this could all be explained away as pure chance. 

The teacher started class and Adrien had a feeling he wouldn’t be learning much today. Good thing that homeschooling has me ahead of the learning curve.

Lunch couldn’t have come soon enough. Adrien had talked himself out of being excited for the rest of the day. Of course it had been a coincidence! There’s no way his Lady was torn between two sides of the same person. How crazy could this get, Ladybug rejecting Chat Noir for his civilian self. That would be ridiculous. 

As he got his tray and walked across the cafeteria, he overheard the familiar voices of a reporter and her friend. When Alya spotted Adrien, she made sure to speak loud enough for him to hear.

“Well let’s ask Adrien about this!” 

Adrien spun around and saw Alya and Marinette walking towards him. Alya was a bit ahead of her friend, but Marinette had what could only be described as a satisfied smile on her face. 

“So Marinette and I were talking. I want to see America one day, go to Hollywood in California. Marinette wants to go to China at some point to meet her mother’s side of the family. What about you?”

Adrien thought for a moment, feeling as though he missed something. “Would I like to meet Marinette’s side of the family?”

The two girls burst into laughter.

“No!” Alya said, “We’re talking about dream vacations. What would be yours?”

And Adrien didn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knew exactly what to say, he just didn’t expect to say it to a friend. He shook his head in an attempt to rid his brain of this daze he was in. Wow, he thought, that was one of the questions on my list to Ladybug. Two coincidences in two days that’s wild! Still half in a daze, he answered honestly, “I’d like to go sightseeing in Italy.”

Nino joined them, having overheard just enough, “Dude, haven’t you been to Italy before, for like fashion week and stuff?”

“Well yeah,” he continued, “But that was all business. I want to go sightseeing! See the colosseum and walk the streets of Rome. Pay way too much money to get into one of those carts where they bike you around to all the tourist spots. That kind of thing.” 

The group chatted a bit but eventually the bell rang and they retreated back to their classroom. Adrien didn’t even notice Marinette behind him, scratching a question off of a list.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There it is! Next chapter comes out in two days!

~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ This Chapter ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

Chapter Eleven (Wow I initially planned to end it at 10)

Zelda Link to Chapter 1 (along with directory) here

Reviews and Corrections appreciated as I love to grow as an author.

Enjoy~

XI - Alex

The long walk toward the highest point of the forest was quiet and awkward. Guess that happens after the first time couples do it and Alex assumed she was just adjusting. She did tell him it was quite a while since she done it. So he did what's best to keep the awkwarness at minimum by initiating conversation.

"Samantha, you've been umm... quiet since we left. Is there any problem? Are you hurt?" Alex finally asked, scratching his chin while doing so.

Samantha quickly turned to her side as Alex turned his head on her.

"I'm fine, Alex. It's just... I'm just thinking about things..." she trailed off, touching some leaves as they walked.

Alex turned his head back to the path and sighed. When a woman thinks about something, it goes a lot more way back, someone from the CIA once told him that they're expert history seekers and Alex thought maybe it's something he said way back. And they always converse back in the safehouse.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Alex asked, picking up a flat rock, pretending it's a penny. Samantha chuckled and grabbed the 'penny', looking at him with utmost adoration. This guy may be all tough looking, but he's actually a caring person, it makes it harder for her to move on once it's all over.

"Fine, I'll bite." she replied, gripping the penny tight.

"What would happen to us when this is all over?" She asked. Alex stopped in his tracks and turned to her.

"You mean us? Right? This thing we're having?" he clarified, pointing to the both of them.

"Well, I'm bound to take a break after this mission. I was actually planning to ask you out on a vacation, if that's okay with you." He replied, the tone of his voice sounded shy as he scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact.

Silence.

Alex patiently waited for her response, hoping she'd say yes as they continued on the trail. He started to feel nervous as the general consensus running in his thoughts is going to be a solid 'NO'.

Alex leaned on a huge tree atop the highest possible vantage point, exhaling away the exhaustion. He then felt her smooth arms wrapped around him, and her face buried on his back.

"I know you want this to work..." She croaked.

"... and I know in my heart that I do too..." She sobbed.

"...but I can't live loving you with worry in my heart..." Alex grabbed her hand and locked his on hers.

"... and I don't want to be the reason that you'll stop saving the world. I know you want that. It's your job to. It's what you built your whole life to become..." Tears started falling again. Alex sighed and turned back as he wrapped his arms around her tight.

"I'd love to make it work between us. I know you could feel that." He assured, rubbing her back and resting his chin on her head.

"... I love you, Alex. I really do... but if you're still in the line of fire after all this then I can't handle it. The feeling of anxiousness, the constant question if you'll ever come back in one piece. Not after what I've experienced before." Alex sighed. She made sense and he respected it. She's been through a lot moving on from his ex who died in an accident, and considering Alex's line of work, he's just going to make her worry.

He couldn't fight the tears as the realization set in. He could feel his knees weaken and they both slowly knelt and cried. Even though the CIA trained Alex on suppressing emotion, he couldn't help but feel a love that's not meant to be. But then again, they both knew this was bound to happen, they both agreed to feel the pain of goodbye, but they never knew it would hurt this bad.

"I love you too." He whispered as she looked up to him.

"Let's go. I still have to escort you to safety." He smiled, his eyes were still red from the tears, but no matter what, Samantha swore to herself that she's never going to forget his longing stare.

~

Alex pointed at the looming building not too far from them, civilization a glimmer of hope sparkled in his eyes. He noted that they were both hungry and the thick forestry wasn't able to provide food. They'll have to reach there soon before they run out of energy.

"Just a few more clicks - er.. yards." he turned to Samantha, who's hands are already on her knees and panting heavily.

"Can we take a break? I'm really exhausted." she whined, Alex quickly lifted her on his back causing her to yelp in surprise.

"You're okay with this?" He asked, letting out a little chuckle.

"Won't you get tired? I'm kinda heavy, you know."

"You're making me look like I'm not a soldier! Just trust me, okay?" he remarked as they continued their trail to the nearby village.

"If you insist." She pouted, comfortably leaning her body on Alex. Leaves rustled as they forged their own path to the tall building Alex saw by the hilltop. Samantha took this time to enjoy the quiet hum of the forest mixed with Alex's breathing.

"What about you? What would you do when all of this is over?" He asked, breaking the silence. She chuckled at the question, then silence followed.

"I'm for sure be back in that big house again, like a caged bird yearning for freedom." she said, looking up at the sky as a flock of birds pass by opposite the slow movement of the clouds.

"It took me years to fight for that freedom only to be stripped away from me... Sometimes, I wish I wasn't born with a very important person as a parent. It sucks." she sighed, leaning back to Alex, savoring the last moments she could do it to him. As promised, once she is home safe, their little getaway romance will all be over.

Alex slightly turned his head to her, smiling as he felt her breathing slowed down. He let her take this moment to rest for a while. The forest has exhausted them physically, mentally and romantically, and Alex was more than willing to carry her out of this place.

"Hey sleepyhead." Alex nudged her as she slowly woke up, panicking as she wiped off her drooling mouth.

"I hope whatever you're dreaming of was drool-worthy." he winked at her, making her blush in embarrassment.

"Well, maybe it wasn't you. So don't be too cocky." She retorted, looking around.

"Where are we?"

"In a small local town somewhere in Brazil. Based on the Portuguese people and the kids playing soccer, or uh.. Football." he replied, pointing his thumbs by the children.

"Wish we had money. I'm so hungry, I could smell everything in here." the CIA Agent looked at her with worry. Samantha looked down in dissappointment and soon realized that she might solve their problem.

"Here. Find someone who could buy this." She handed him her pendant. At first, Alex hesitated, insisting that she doesn't have to do it but his mind soon changed as he heard her stomach growl like a lion.

"Come on. Let's get you something to eat." Alex grabbed her hand as they ventured the crowded marketplace. Samantha was really impressed on how Alex was able to quickly communicate and understand the people. One person led them to another as they finally made their way to a pawnshop. Then the next thing she knew they were already booked into a small inn and was seated on it's ground floor's mini restaurant.

Alex gave a thumbs up at the chef as he served the final meal missing from their order. Samantha was clearly amazed on how Alex managed to whip up a feast from just a piece of rock hanging on her neck. She smiled as she saw Alex hungrily scarfed down his order, and started eating on her own.

"We actually got a few extra more Brazilian Real to buy some clothes. Whatever that was in thay necklace was worth a lot." He looked at her, rice stuck on his moustache. Samantha laughed as she picked up the piece of grain from his face.

"It was a gift from my Father. Figured it would come in handy when the time comes. I'm actually happy I wore it before all of this. I wanted to get rid of it while we were on the ocean. So I guess it's a win-win for me." She replied, continuing her food.

"Let's not talk about this. Okay?" she added just before Alex could open his mouth. He then nodded and respected her privacy.

Alex was starting to feel her getting distant and he realized that she's not willing to take any more risks on him because she's afraid of committing to someone who has a high risk of not being able to come back to her again. Alex wanted to talk her out of it and ensure her safety, but it wouldn't be fair. He now understood what the song meant when it said "If you love me, let me go.."

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 10)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 2139

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong​​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The energy around the house hadn’t changed -- not really. Not between you two. You tried to shrug off the rejection, and work definitely helped serve as a distraction. The first shift manager kept calling out, meaning you had to cover him. It seemed like every other day he was either sick, extremely late, had a flat tire...You name it, he had an excuse. So between running yourself ragged at work and trying to keep up with the housework, you couldn’t really dwell on the fact that you humiliated yourself. 

But you decided to just let it go, the times you did think about it. Sure you felt like you had started to fall for him, but ultimately, he didn’t want that and you had to respect it, no matter how bad it hurt. No matter how badly you wanted to change his mind, you knew you’d still rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. 

Yet, when you strolled in one day after working double shifts, exhausted, he thoroughly surprised you. 

“Oh, hey, you look beat,” he commented as he looked up from the dining room table. You barely moaned a response as you trudged in, dropping your purse and going to the couch to flop down. 

Quickly, he jumped up and walked over to you on the couch, lifting your feet and putting them on his lap.

“That good of a day, huh?” he teased but you were too tired to even muster a smile. 

“Just long. These double shifts are killing me. Between angry people checking out and frustrated people checking in and running around taking care of this complaint and this cold room service meal and ...It's just too much,” you complained, your arm draped over your eyes. 

Hayden spoke up, poking your leg. “What you need is a getaway,” he remarked. 

Laughing without humor, you pulled your arm off your face and rolled your eyes before looking down the couch at him. “Hah! With what time and what money?”

“You don’t have any vacation days stocked up?”

“I do...But I’m saving all of them for Europe,” you informed before blowing out air. 

“I see,” he said, nodding his head to the side. “Well why don’t you get some extra sleep?”

“No, I ca--” you started, but he held up his hand, stopping your objection.

“Before you say you can’t because you have too much housework. Leave it to me. Tell me what you were going to do and I’ll get it done.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you countered. “You have work too. I’m sure you’re exhausted,” you noted.

He shrugged. “We just went on hiatus for a week or two,” he informed. “I’ve had the last two days off. I’m fine. I can pick up the slack,” he informed with a half smile. “So what do you say? Give me your chores and go to sleep?”

You turned the idea over and over in your head. Sleep did sound absolutely divine right now. With a giant sigh, you pulled yourself up and went to the dining room table, where Hayden followed. 

“Okay, here’s the things I was gonna get done,” you informed as you leaned over and scribbled out a short list. 

“Nothing too intimidating,” he commented as he peered over your shoulder. 

“Good. I’m gonna go pass out,” you informed as you breezed past him, into your room, shutting the door to change and go to sleep. You barely remembered your head hitting the pillow.

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

It seems your eyes had just closed with a soft voice was urging you awake.

“Y/N, Y/N,” Hayden whispered as he sat on your bed, lightly shaking you.

When you opened your eyes, you noticed the room was considerably darker. Not night time, not quite yet, but the sun was definitely setting. 

“Hey,” you greeted. “What’s up?” you mumbled into the pillow. 

“Get up,” he excitedly commanded.

“Why?” you asked, nuzzling into your pillow and blankets.

He animatedly responded, “I want to show you something.”

“Can it wait?”

“Come on, this will be fun, I promise,” he vowed, slight plea in his tone.

“Alright,” you finally said, flopping the covers off your body and he stood to let you get out of bed. You threw on your pajama pants and followed him out into the open living area, noticing that it was practically sparkling. Every surface had been polished, every floor swept, every spot washed, and every pillow fluffed. 

“Hayden,” you breathed in disbelief. “This is amazing. Wow. It looks stunning. You did amazing,” you boasted.

“Eh, it’s nothing but a little elbow grease and time,” he said, brushing it off. “But this isn’t all of it,” he quickly added. “Go get changed. Swimsuit and a change of clothes,” he said.

“What? Why?” you wondered. 

“Are you always this inquisitive? Just do it. Please,” he gently commanded. 

“Okay,” you said, a bit of a sigh coming out as you said it. But you turned and went into your room, grabbed your bikini, slipped into it, threw on a loose, beach shirt over it, and pulled on some shorts. Then you grabbed your purse and flip flops. “Okay, I’m ready,” you announced as you went out into the living room.

“Great. Let’s go,” he encouraged as he thrust his head toward the door. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as you walked up to him, playful curiosity in your tone.

“You’ll see. Ever the nosy one, aren’t you?” he teased as you got in his rental car. 

He started the car, and he let you pick the radio, like always. You tuned it to some easy listening music, letting the sounds soothe your tired and tense muscles, letting your mind slip and become filled with ease. 

The drive wasn’t long, but you weren’t paying attention, so when he stopped the car and told you that you had arrived, it stirred you from a mindless daydream. 

Hayden climbed out before you, reaching in the backseat to grab something. Meanwhile, you lazily climbed out of the car, looking around to get your bearings, to see where he’d ended up taking you. 

“Thought you could use this,” he suddenly commented from behind you, making you whirl to look at him. “You seemed really stressed lately. Thought a trip to the beach might be good,” he offered with a shrug and a half smile. “Come on,” he said as he thrust his head towards the sandy beach, birds sounding overhead as you walked down the grade, the sand hitting your feet and making you feel more than relaxed. That, coupled with the slowly setting sun, setting off orange and gray hues over the sand and water. The lightest of breezes washed up with the shore, the smell of salty water hitting your nose and making you involuntarily relax.

The two of you found a spot and he spread out a blanket and tossed some things down, one of the things being a picnic basket. 

“You brought food?” you questioned as you settled onto the blanket. 

“You haven’t really eaten in the last few days,” he remarked. “Thought you could have a nice day of pampering...Or what I can offer as far as pampering goes.”

“Well thank you, Hayden, that’s really sweet,” you commented, a smile touching your face. 

“Nothing really. Just threw some food in a basket,” he said before pulling out the food and showing you what all he’d brought. It was an impressive spread that you started to immediately pick at, not realizing how hungry you really were. 

“Oh my god. I haven’t eaten more than a candy bar in three days,” you realized, a satisfied noise coming from your mouth as you savored the sandwich. 

Hayden couldn’t help but chuckle at you, the sound warming your heart more than it should. 

The two of you sat and ate and caught up on work and other happenings, seeing as you hadn’t really seen much of each other recently. Soon after you had caught up, you couldn’t help but be pulled to the water, wanting badly to put your aching and tired feet in there to feel the coolness of the water. Once you go there, you reveled in the feeling of the water lapping around your feet, the wind gently pushing your hair around your face, the sand squishing between your toes. It all felt so peaceful and wonderful. 

After a few moments, Hayden joined you, but as soon as he got there, you looked over and smirked at him before pulling off your shirt and shorts, throwing them behind you and running into the water laughing. 

“Come on!” you urged from chest deep in the water. “It’s fine!”

“You’re insane,” he called back, a delighted grin on his face. “This water is freezing!”

“Just jump in! The sooner you get it over with, the better!”

“No. I’m fine here, you know, ankle deep,” he assured with a thumbs up and a wink.

You rolled your eyes and slowly made your way back up to him. “You’re a big baby you know that?” you teased as you pretended to bend down and put your hands in the water. You waited until he was gazing at the waves to splash him. “It’s just a little water,” you said innocently.

His face turned from peaceful to coy as he eyed you. 

“Just a little water?” he echoed. “Okay, fine,” he said as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the water, knee deep, before lifting you in his arms. 

“No! No! Hayden! It was a joke! I’m sorry!” you said, begging him to not toss you in. Truth be told, you could get used to this. The feeling of his bare chest against your body, his strong arms holding you...It was something you’d fantasized about a dozen times. 

“See? An apology, that’s all I wanted,” he said, a gentle smile on his face before he lifted and threw you into the water anyway. 

When you emerged, he was in stitches, but your face told a different story, forcing his laughter to stop.

“Y/N,” he warned, holding out a hand and trying to retreat to land. “Y/N, come on. I was just playing!” 

“Too bad!” you shouted before laughing and lunging at him, effectively knocking both of you in the water. 

Once you broke through the surface of the water, the two of you were sitting down, laughing at each other, then going right back to splashing, wrestling, and chasing. 

When nightfall made the water too cool and a little too dangerous to be in, you retreated to the beach, pulling on your clothes but still shivering. 

“Here,” he offered, handing you his hoodie. 

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you assured with a shake of your head while holding your hand up. 

“It’s not a request,” he said. “You’re cold. I’m not using it. Take it.”

You rolled your eyes as you took the oversized hoodie and wrapped it around your arms. “Man, you’re pushy.” 

“Most people say ‘thank you’ when someone saves them from pneumonia,” he remarked with a silly face that made you smile like a fool at him. 

“Ah, I really needed this,” you said with a content sigh. “I needed to just...get away.”

He nodded. “I’m glad. I was hoping to help you and ease some of your stress.”

“Thank you, so much for doing this,” you said again as you laid back on the blanket that covered the cool sand, just staring up at the sky, letting his hoodie keep you warm and cozy. 

“You deserved it,” he mentioned quietly as he leaned back beside you, resting on his elbows. 

You closed your eyes, nearly getting lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves, the cool breeze, the comfort of the sand beneath you. Your thoughts drifted into mindless nothingness. Just as you thought you were about to fall asleep, a sensation hit your lips, nearly startling you. 

It was warm, but cool, flesh, soft and supple. You instantly responded by pushing back on the sensation, the feeling of electricity washing through you. When you opened your eyes, Hayden’s golden hair was the first and only thing you saw. The kiss lasted much less time than you wanted. As quickly as he had put his lips on yours, he was withdrawing them, propping himself on one elbow, gazing at you.

You were speechless as you stared at him.

“Go on a date with me,” he softly commanded as gazed at you, adoration in his eyes. 

“What?” you stammered. “But I thought you said before--”

“Forget what I said before. I want to date you,” he said, dismissing his rejection.

“Oh--I--Okay,” you finally managed to say. 

“Great,” he said with a beaming smile that melted your insides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[ladynyctophilia]

Avoiding Red

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Mature Themes

Pairings: Vivienne Tang x MC (Rozario)

(Vivienne’s point of view.)

Tick, tick, tick…

Hours had passed, but Vivienne was stuck in time. Her long, slender hands gripped the sides of the vanity. It was the only thing that kept her tethered to the real world. She didn't know how long she'd been standing like that. Hours? Minutes? She was in a statue like trance—a statue on the break of collapsing. 

Rozario. 

Rozario was gone. 

My Rozario.

Vivienne blinked, wide-eyed and trembling, like an animal caught in a cage, struggling to control the storm of emotion that churned inside. She glanced at the mirror but hissed as the invisible noose yanked her gaze away. She choked.

I'm a monster. 

But her gaze hardened.

No. Look at yourself. 

Begrudgingly, Vivienne lifted her head, heavy with demons, and locked eyes with the enemy in the mirror. Herself.

I promised her. 

Vivienne declared to herself, unblinking, her heart pounded as threatening as a war drum. The Poppy escaped, but at what cost? Their newest member paid the price. It made Vivienne want to wrap herself up in a black hole and cease to exist. Without Rozario to color her life, she felt empty, numb to everything. A woman in red, walking alone in a world of black and white. No diamonds could satisfy this river of misery. How long could she swim before she drowned? 

If I held on tighter...

A crack of emotion rippled across Vivienne's features as an anguished cry ripped out from her throat. She never cried, but here she was crying, screaming with the voice of a thousand sirens, shoving off all the contents on her vanity. Glass shattered, and the sound of chaos became her music: dance sad girl, dance. 

Glass soared in every direction, obliterated on the floor. The perfume began to pool out and around the shattered bottles, like blood escaping the veins. Some shards of glass even managed to puncture Vivienne's skin, but she didn't notice, or maybe she didn't care. Besides her jagged breaths, the room was quiet again. The smells, however, were quite loud, tangling for dominance. 

I can't do this. 

Vivienne thought to herself as her hair ghosted over the glass-covered surface of the vanity. With shame, the tears were beginning to burn, so she stroked her ring in search for comfort, but it brought her none. No. With quick realization, Vivienne gasped, yanking the ring off as if it might burn her. The last person she used it on was Rozario. Her heart did a few somersaults—the bad kind. 

I stabbed Rozario. 

Her breath hitched.

I poisoned her. 

Making a choice was one thing, but accepting it? Her body collapsed on the vanity, tears mapping down her already wet cheeks. This crippling burden made it to overwhelming to stand. Like a racehorse pushing past its limit, she wasn't physically unable to continue. Besides her rapid breaths, she didn't make a sound and completely disregarded the state of her makeup.

There was no other choice. 

A voice from a past Vivienne chimed in. A last-minute attempt to justify what she had done.

Without that poison to slow down her heart, she would have bled out.

"She could already be dead," Vivienne winced. She could feel what was left of her heart sliding into the pit of her stomach. Vivienne groaned into a cough, clearing her throat. "Ugh," Vivienne silently cursed in french, rubbing her temples to soothe a growing headache. 

Okay. That's enough. 

She needed to get up. She needed a plan. 

After that, much-needed outburst, Vivienne had once more regained control and recovered her mask, but she felt terrifyingly empty. Like everything human had been stolen with Rozario, but finally, Vivienne found her feet, dragging her gloved hands down her rapidly aging face. 

Fuck.

Vivienne thought as she glanced at the mirror and took in her appearance. Emotions were never good for the skin. 

Regret hung in the air, and a small part of her knew she should have just left in Venice like she originally planned. Then this day would have never happened. Rozario would have never been shot, and Vivienne wouldn't have known this avalanche of agony. She had tolerated heartbreak before, but never to this extent. It was like the entire world had swallowed her, with nowhere else to run, and when there was no escape, Vivienne would make her own escape. 

Rozario was gone. 

She repeated in her head. The one-hundredth declaration was not as grueling, but none of The Poppy knew where their prized artist was….or IF she was. Seeing Rozario fall off the helicopter was like something from a bad dream, but it wasn’t a dream. She winced at the memory. The gamble with the poison might have saved Rozario from bleeding out, but it didn't save Vivienne from the betrayal that masked Rozario's face.  Vivienne didn't have time to explain, and now she might never get to explain, and maybe that was the best thing for Rozario. A reminder to the young artist that life with The Poppy wasn't a vacation, yes they lived a life of freedom, but at the end of the day they were criminals with a lot of money on their heads. 

Very suddenly, Vivienne became acutely aware of the objects in her room that were stained with Rozario's presence. Her eyes twitched, and her mind went from everything to radio silence. Rozario's half-finished sketchbook rested on the table with a dull pencil nested nearby, and near the door were her sandals, worn from their lighthearted adventures in the major cities they've visited, and Vivienne didn't even want to begin thinking about her lover's clothes that waited to be worn in HER closet. 

Oh no. Don't look. 

She looked. She looked at the bed, their bed. It's where Rozario should be right now. Nowhere else. With possessiveness, the fire was relit and bulldozed over any control that Vivienne had JUST regained, and without skipping a beat, Vivienne went on a rampage. The thief was no longer in control of her own body as she ripped down the curtains, pushed over the couch, flipped over the table, and shattered every mirror insight. Red. Red. Red. RED!!! With her leather gloves torn, blood now dripped from Vivienne's clenched fists, a matching addition to her cape, but Vivienne remained unfazed as she turned her gaze towards her next victim. 

The bed.

Bundling up the expensive sheets in her arms, Vivienne marched over to the open window and flung the sheets out, watching as they were stolen by the wind and never seen again.

Huffing and puffing, Vivienne was breathing like she had just finished a marathon and lost. Even the air was begging for mercy, but a spark of morning temporarily blinded her.

How DARE you.

Vivienne's gaze pierced out the window as shades of purples and pinks bled into the Paris skies. The world had no knowledge of Vivienne's grief. It merely just carried on without being swayed. It was a reminder of how insignificant their lives really were. That was a nature Vivienne desired to possess, but when it came to her precious Rozario, she couldn't. Shame. It was going to be a beautiful sunrise, if not day. She blinked out tears, a cool down from her rage as she admired the delicate colors that swam in the skies. It reminded her of Rozario.

A heavy fisted knock jerked Vivienne out of her head. Leon. 

"Vivienne?" Leon called out in a gentle voice as if she might come out and bite. 

Oh, Leon. 

She could hear his big feet shuffling around nervously.  

"Yes, darling?" She answered, but made no move to open the door,  purposefully restraining any emotion in her voice that would give her away. Now, she had time to examine the full state of her room. It was a mess to say the least, and with the sun on the rise, many pieces of shattered glass glittered like a thousand tiny suns smiling at Vivienne specifically. She glared at them in return. Besides the glass, the bed was no more, if it wasn't broken, it was turned over, and the few plants that Vivienne kept were smashed on the ground. Leon couldn't see this or the state she was in. NONE of The Poppy could see this. She could feel the warmth of their concern from miles away, and she knew that Rozario held a special place in each of their hearts too...but with Rozario gone, Vivienne remained more distant than. 

"Zoe tracked the people who took Rozario. She's alive, and they have her in a hospital, eight hours away from Paris." Leon did well to hide the urgency in his voice, but the low rumbles of concern gave him away. "We don't know how long we have."

There was a pause as Vivienne closed her eyes, allowing the new information to seep into her being, finding strength from it. Rosario was alive. That should have been enough to lift her injured spirit, but knowing that the government had her amor in their clutches was enough to make Vivienne see RED. 

"Red…." she breathed, knowing the wave of temporary contentment the safe word would bring. "C-can you get us there in five?" Vivienne spoke up, a little shakier than she wanted.

"Easily," Leon declared without an ounce of hesitation. He was always the hero. Vivienne could have smiled at that, but she didn't. 

Now shaking, Vivienne let out a tired sigh, "wonderful," she almost laughed, "I will be out in five." Leon didn't respond, and Vivienne could hear the jingle of keys as his heavy steps faded away. They had an understanding. No words were necessary.  Rozario was in a hospital, and they were going to get her out. It wouldn't be the first time Vivienne had broken someone out of jail. Leon and Nadia were proof. How could a hospital be different, if not easier?

After Leon left to start the car, Vivienne excused herself to the bathroom. There wasn't any time to reapply a full face of makeup, but she recovered what she could, and exactly five minutes later, Vivienne marched out of her room with her red cape in tow and red lipstick threatening. Vivienne Tang was a woman in love, and the universe feared for whoever dared to stand in Vivienne Tang's way. They were going to get Rozario back because she was a Poppy and The Poppy were masters of doing the impossible.

To be continued....

[purple-baby-d]

a good man.

Choi Seunghyun (T.O.P.  — BIGBANG) x female reader.

Genre: I don’t know, it’s kinda angst, but also fluff and then it gets kinda smut... I’m a mess but whatevs.

Word count: 2,994.

Content: rich!top, gambler!gdragon, heartbroken!reader, college friends, descriptions of domestic violence, top being a hella interesting and caring man, vanilla sex (love making), unprotected sex, just the fluffy smut I needed to write as soon as zyanya told me she needed a good top reading material.

Brief: as you finally run away from your years-long toxic relationship, your best friend is right there to pick you up, and some feelings might bloom all over again once you let your hearts speak.

Dedicated to @theravengoddess​ 💜

"Do whatever you want, but leave me out of it!", you yelled, shutting the door closed as you left the apartment you and your troubled ex-boyfriend lived in, rain falling over your shoulders and your luggage as you cried silently. Where did it all go wrong?, you asked yourself, trying to understand why Jiyong, your former couple, had fallen into the darkest roads, and it was his short-tempered mood and up-to-the-clouds ego that led you both to self-destruction, and you knew it was over a long time ago.

But still, you somehow wanted to blame yourself for it.

Running down the roads of that small neighborhood you lived in, you sobbed to yourself, wanting to get as far as possible from that misery you left at your apartment. The buildings slowly started looking nicer as you kept running, ending up on one of the nicest neighborhoods of your city. As you walked in front of a nice restaurant, you bumped into a tall man, who sadly you recognized as your best friend, Seunghyun.

"Y/N? Princess, you're soaked!" he told you, giving you his old, rusty leather jacket to protect you from the cold night you ran into. "Why are you crying? What happened?", he kept asking, concerned by the tears that kept streaming down your face, not really knowing what to do anymore. "Come on, tell me something, please".

You just laid your head in his hands, reuniting every last strength of yours to tell him about the worst night of your mid-length life. Jiyong had bursted into your lovenest, the one you've shared for years now, looking desperately for money to pay his debts. You walked out of your workspace after hearing his whole rendezvous, the scandal making the neighbors concerned as things kept crashing on the floor, breaking into little, tiny pieces of glass as he then repaired on you. He shook your shoulders, asking you where you'd left the money you were saving for your years-planned dream vacations with him. You knew exactly what happened: he was gambling again, even when he told you he would stop after losing his dream car to it.

You told him to stop looking, that he wouldn't find it and he was definitely not using it, but you knew you were up to no good when rage got the best of him, combined with the drinks he was having back at that illegal casino he loved. He pushed you to the floor and kicked you out of the way once you tried to stop him. Still in pain, you got up and grabbed the bags you'd packed weeks prior in case of emergency, the money he was desperately looking for safe in one of them. You left your old phone at the apartment, along with everything he could locate you with. And although he deserved it, you still cried thinking about the years of your life you wasted on him, hoping he could change somehow.

Hoping he could become the good man your mother always said you deserved.

"God... I'd kick his ass, but that would lead him to know where you are", Seunghyun sighed, looking at you as his thumb stroke your cheek, weeping your tears off. "Don't cry, princess, you're breaking me slowly", he begged you, holding you close without caring about getting his expensive designer clothes wet or damaged. In that moment, he cared solely about you, about how you were dealing with finally leaving the toxic relationship you've kept yourself in for the last few years, at some point even thinking of marrying the guy who had just hurt you phisically and emotionally. "Come on, you can stay with me for as long as you please", he offered you, looking down at you with a smile. "Are you hungry? Wanna grab some food before we go?", he asked softly, to which you couldn't say no. Even though you weren't in the mood, you were starving, and the mixture of all the time you spent running combined with the nice smell flooding your nostrills thanks to the restaurants that surrounded you made your mouth water.

He ordered takeout as you waited in his black sports car, the heat was on as he tried to keep you from freezing, his jacket still over your shoulders as you watched him through the window. You met Seunghyun years ago, in college, to be precise. He was a natural hardworker, the best in his classes, the most promising future from our generation, and he stood up to that title. He started his own business, dedicated to funding different medical researches and environmental causes, such as cleaning the oceans or preventing deforestation. That was his happy place, knowing he was doing what he could to help, and he was tremendously well-known amongst the Korean community, earning several awards and rename because of it. Still, he was sweet, kind, polite, humble... everything your mother could wish for in a husband for her daughter.

You still couldn't understand how his only friend in college was a humble girl from a working class family, let alone how he still was single at his thirty-two years of age.

He sighed as he got in the car, touching your forehead gently to check on your body temperature, his concerned expression somehow making you feel safe. "You're still quite cold, but at least you won't get sick", he told you, his deep, raspy voice making you smile with the words it pronounced. "Thank you, Seunghyun", you muttered, making him smile to you in return. He drove down the roads that lead to his apartment as the city lights made the tamished glass of your window look quite artistic, and the raindrops that stuck to it started blurring as he sped up. Some low-fi music playing in the background as he looked ahead, his hands shaking on the steering wheel until he finally turned onto the underground parking lot of the building he lived in. He parked the car and got out of it, taking your luggage out of the car and taking it upstairs as he walked next to you, not letting you move a finger.

You gasped as the elevator led you to his apartment, the penthouse of one of the fanciest buildings around the whole city. Still on the minimalist spectrum, it looked so fancy and elegant, just like its owner. "Mi casa es tu casa, princess", he told you, taking your luggage to one of the rooms. "Get yourself comfortable, you can use the library as your workspace, and I'll settle a room for you. Until then, you can sleep on mine, I sleep on the couch most of the time, anyways". Without letting you hesitate, he left your bags on the laundry room, washing them over since they gained a certain smell because of the rain.

You noticed he wasn't the average bachelor, even though he lived alone, he still managed to keep everything nice and clean. He then grabbed something from his office, handing it to you. "Use this", he told you, handing you a new phone. "It's my old phone, I also have a spare computer in case you need one. It has a new SIM card and my number's saved on it. It's yours". I nodded, taking it in my hands as I sighed. "Thank you", I muttered. He showed me a little grin, a slight chuckle coming out of his throat. "Is it all you know how to say?", he said, making you smile as he kneeled in front of you, caressing your cheek. "Mine is yours too, princess. You won't need anything as long as I'm here".

There was this tiny moment of tension, you felt like he was way too far from you. The way he made you feel suddenly reminded you of the way you felt about him years ago, that slight crush you developed in him that you immediately faded away with the fear of losing your best friend. Your only friend. But the way he looked at you made you sense something else... something new.

His phone rang, and the caller's ID made him clench his teeth at the most opportune moment. "I'll pick this up, you should take a shower. You can use my clothes for now, my sweaters will probably fit you like dresses", he smiled a little for you, and you nodded, doing as he commanded. He got up from his spot in front of you, picking up the call and walking away from you far enough for his voice not to sound as clear as if he talked in front of you, but you still could hear every word. "The fuck do you want, Jiyong?", he growled, the rage burning through his eyes. "I have no fucking idea, she doesn't pick up her phone and that means she wants to run away from you, so stay the fuck away from her!", he yelled at the phone. "I'll pay every single cent of your goddamn debts only if you promise you'll disappear", he snarled again, making you confused. "I'll find her, and when I do, I'll do what I should've done from the very start, what I didn't do because I cherished our friendship". You then entered the shower, letting the water run over your skin and the noise keep you from listening to the conversation Seunghyun kept on the phone. You washed your hair, appreciating how everything was made to your tall friend's fit, having to stretch out your hand to reach the shampoo.

You got out of the shower, wrapping a towel —a very long one— around your chest to cover you up while you looked for something to wear. You grabbed one of his oversized sweaters, the smell of his cologne making you obsessed with it. Just as you expected, it looked like you were wearing a dress, covering up to the middle of your thighs, giving you some sweater paws which you folded while combing your wet hair. You decided not to wear underwear, since you were dressed enough for it not to be obvious. But as you got out, you could tell he was still on his phone.

After one last "get lost", he hung up, sighing as he rested his back on the wall and your curiosity started shooting up like fireworks. He then got back to you, the rage you sensed in his voice not showing in the comforting smile he dedicated you. "Come on, let's have dinner", he invited you, getting two glasses and some chopsticks out of the kitchen, he then sat down with you, sighing as he served a glass of wine to the two of you from the bottle he bought, not knowing if you were in the mood for soju and deciding to go for the safe choice, your favorite wine. He served even portions of food for the two of you, again not letting you move a single finger to help him. It made you upset, but you couldn't deny how touched you were by the way he was treating you. He caressed your cheek and smiled at you. "Be my guest, princess", he told you with a smile.

You bowed politely at him, grabbing your chopsticks and having a bite of the food he'd bought for you, having you moaning in pleasure at the delicious flavors invading your tastebuds. It was so good, and he made you so happy you nearly forgot what you were about to ask him. But once he'd had his last bite, you took a deep breath and looked at him. "Seunghyun, what were you and Jiyong talking about?", you asked, after a soft "eung?" came out of his full mouth when you called his name. He then took a deep breath and a sip of his glass of wine, turning to look at you. "How much did you hear?", he asked you, concerned. "You said you would find me and do what you should've from the start".

He then sighed, his sight going down to the floor. "Princess, do you remember how you met Jiyong?", he asked softly. "I met him at a party in the dorms", you answered. "He was the host of that party, and he told me to invite you because he thought you were pretty", he told you. "Since he was my senior, I respected his order and did what he said, but the truth is I didn't want him to get anywhere near you... because I was falling in love with you".

You looked at him, shocked. Why was he saying those things? How could he ever fall in love with you? That wasn't the line he drew when you met Jiyong, not even before. But then, I got it: Seunghyun found it difficult to express his true feelings with words, if not to express them at all. He was tender and loving, but when it came to expressing his heart, he wasn't that much of an expert. "But I saw you were developing feelings for Jiyong too, so I stepped back and gave you the freedom to do your life however you decided to do it, because I knew you were strong enough to be good by yourself", he explained, breaking your heart in two as he muttered his point of view with nostalgia. "I wanted you to look at me in other way so badly, but I didn't want to force my feelings into you, nor to ruin our friendship. So I made my vows, I would stay away from you and Jiyong hyung, but I would always take care of you, and so I did".

You took his hand in yours, not really knowing what to say. Your feelings were mutual all along, but you were both so scared to lose eachother, you never thought about letting them bloom. How could you make up for the time you've lost? You were all grown up now, the age for joyful childish dates leaving you behind as soon as you started getting bills to pay. But neither of you cared about that, but about the way the other was feeling. So as Seunghyun leaned closer to you, you leaned in as well. "But I always wanted to be a good man for you, princess", he muttered.

Your lips then met, in the softest yet most special way yours had ever been kissed. His lips were soft and tender to yours, and the way they could naturally move with each other made the two of you know it was worth the wait. No matter how long it has been, you deserved this. You deserved eachother. You broke the kiss, looking for air to breathe as you didn't know how to function anymore as for doing such a simple thing. You looked at him, knowing that you wanted more, that the two of you did. He took your hand and pulled you to his lap, his lips meeting yours again as he held your waist tenderly, and your arms wrapped around him as he lifted you up, walking the two of you to his bedroom and laying you down slowly in his bed. The soft feeling of his sheets under your skin making you smile as he leaned down to kiss you again, holding up the weight of his body as he straddled over you. His lips started leaving kisses down your body as he took off his shirt, later on taking off his sweater from you, biting down on his lip as he realized you were naked, but then undressing himself completely so you were even.

You crawled up to his lap, his throbbing erection making direct contact with your dripping core, and you couldn't handle the foreplay much longer, none of you could. So he did it, right there, he guided you until you sat down on his length, taking it completely once you sat down on his lap, his lips connecting to yours as you kept a slow pace the whole while. You kept going up and down, feeling every single inch of his as he groaned, enjoying your tight, wet core more than he could ever express. You've had sex with Jiyong plenty of times before, but having sex with Seunghyun was different for one single reason: it wasn't sex, you were making love.

He kept up to your pace, respecting it as much as he could, and when the two of you reached the edge, you collapsed in his chest as he collapsed in the bed. You laid over the bed again as he got down to your core, eating out all of your arousal and the combination of his climax with yours. He didn't care, he found it so fantastic he actually could give two shits. He wanted you to feel comfortable, and the moans you let out of your mouth let him know you were enjoying it. Once you were clean, he got up and you grabbed his cheeks, kissing him for what felt like forever. But it felt good, it felt right.

It felt like that was where you needed to be.

"I'll make you fall in love with me too, princess", he told you, but you shook your head in denial. "I fell in love with you a long while ago, Choi Seunghyun", you muttered. And with a little smile of his, he covered the two of you with his bed's sheets and held you close to him, taking a deep breath as everything finally felt like it was the right path to follow, the two of you together at last. And as you were about to fall asleep in his loving arms, you muttered one last sentence.

"You're the good man I needed".

It’s short and not so smutty as I’ve been doing them lately, but I hope you like it! :)

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: We and Us [TEASER] (Fluff, Time Travel AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) takes a vacation to Japan with her best friend and prays to meet her soulmate, only fate gives her a mile instead of an inch and she meets Rengoku Kyōjurō— the Flame Hashira in the manga that she had been reading. Right before his last mission, no less, so it’s up to her to save him.

Note: This is a mix of isekai and time travel. I’ll try to explain things as best as I can within the story, but please take everything at face value. Enjoy, bbys!

(Y/n) will be the usual, but (F/n) will stand for Friend’s Name.

Also, please let me know if y’all like it so far and if I should continue writing it. 😂 Thank you, bbys.

***

It was the same dream again; the very same one that had kept on plaguing (Y/n) ever since she had landed in Tokyo with her best friend.

She had only ever seen the scene in the Kimetsu no Yaiba manga, but it all looked so vivid in her mind. Too vivid, in fact, that it had unsettled her enough to have her sitting up in the double bed in the hotel room that she and (F/n) shared.

For the third night in a row, the dream— no, the nightmare— had managed to reduce her to tears again.

Maybe she was crazy for feeling so much for someone who wasn’t real, but she couldn’t help her reaction. When she had opened her eyes, her face was already wet with tears— and no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away, they wouldn’t cease falling.

And, for once, she wanted to wake (F/n) up so she could get one of her comforting hugs— but she didn’t want to put a damper on such a momentous vacation for them. After all, they had saved up so much money just to afford going to Tokyo in the first place.

She wouldn’t ruin the next day with something that would fade away into nothingness later on.

But she would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt to watch Rengoku Kyōjurō die over and over again— even if it was only in her dreams.

All she could do, however, was lay back down and curl into a ball to clutch one of her pillows close to her chest; burrowing her face into the fresh-smelling linen and trying to will away the haunting images that kept playing in her mind.

Her heart felt like it was breaking a million times over, yet she couldn’t exactly explain why that was. So, she closed her eyes and started counting— if only to get her racing mind to calm down.

Thankfully, sleep finally caught up to her; albeit restless and unfulfilling.

‘Don’t worry about me dying here.’

***

“You seem really off today, is something wrong, (Y/n)?” (F/n) asked as she nudged her best friend with her elbow, sending the other woman jumping a little in surprise; as if she had been suddenly shaken from some deep and all-consuming thought.

In response, (Y/n) forced a smile on her face and shook her head. She really did feel so drained, especially with a constant heaviness weighing down on her shoulders. Especially when she had stepped onto the small tram that would lead them to Setagaya; it was as if her chest had gotten so tight at some unknown factor that plagued her every waking move.

Not even the pretty hydrangeas that lined either side of the tracks were enough to make her feel better. And it felt like such a waste to be there, as the hydrangeas were what she had wanted to see the most.

“I just had a really weird dream last night. It was of Kyō dying…” (Y/n) admitted with a slight huff of a laugh, trying to make light of the situation with some humor— but she couldn’t say anything more as she felt her best friend’s arms wrap around her tightly.

(Y/n) had to admit that it was a little surprising, but she wasn’t entirely opposed to it; as it felt so warm and comforting, especially with rain outside making the world look dreary and cold.

And slowly, she found herself grinning as she tried to push (F/n) off; before bursting out into a tiny fit of giggles when the arms around her only got tighter.

“Okay, okay, I feel better now. You can let go of me.”

With a laugh, (F/n) stepped back and patted the top of (Y/n)’s head, making the latter curl her upper lip at how playfully condescending that was. But it did its job in taking her mind off of her nightmare, which was all that mattered.

And so, with much a brighter mood, (Y/n) looked out of the tram window and giddily waited for their stop— so she could get a feel of what Kyōjurō’s hometown would have been like. After all, the databook had mentioned him living in Setagawa; so it was ticking off two nocks in one move, with her hydrangea sightseeing, as well as touring Setagawa.

When they got to their station, both women wasted no time in walking to the nearby temple— Tsurumaki Jisso-in. It was a really quaint place, but it felt so tranquil to step into; as if they were being transported through time.

Every step that (Y/n) took, she could feel her emotions beginning to bubble to the surface— feeling so light and heavy at the same time, like some part of her was being welcomed back to the place.

But that wasn’t the most unsettling instance for her; that was when she was deep in prayer already— thanking the gods for bringing her to Japan with her best friend, and for giving her such good fortune up to that day.

After all, she knew that she was luckier than most for just having the opportunity to have a roof above her head and three (or more) meals a day. Let alone the fact that she could have saved up to afford a very expensive trip.

If that wasn’t worth thanking the gods for, then she didn’t know what was.

“All I’m asking for now… is someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who’s the other half of my soul…” She prayed under her breath, bowing her head even further as a sign of humility, before adding, “Someone who will love me wholeheartedly forever.”

Shivers raced up her spine as soon as she uttered her wish, with some unseen force beckoning her to look up. And when she gave in to the urge to do so, the sight of a blond waiting a few paces away from her— with his hand stretched out towards her— made her absolutely breathless.

The vision didn’t last more than a couple of seconds, but she was sure that she just saw Rengoku Kyōjurō in front of her.

“It can’t be. I’m going crazy,” The young woman whispered to herself; bowing down once more, before strolling off to the side to admire the little stone statues that dotted the vicinity.

However, the heavy feeling on her shoulders had returned along with a headache. So, she decided that a short stroll around the area would do her some good.

With one last look behind her— to see that (F/n) was still engrossed in whatever prayer she had— (Y/n) deigned to just send her a text to let her know that she was going for a walk before finally taking the first few steps to get her around the place.

She couldn’t even hear the buzz of the town around them. No horns, or car engines, or even the sound of people filled the gaps of silence between the short gusts of wind that rustled the leaves of the plants around her.

If she were to be honest, she would say that it was relaxing; enough for a nap, even.

But she couldn’t do that when she and (F/n) still had so many places to go for the rest of the day. And, figuring that she’d been gone for long enough, she circled back to the pagoda— where, lo and behold, her best friend was nowhere to be found.

“I told her to wait for me here, tsk,” She uttered under her breath, huffing a little as she tried to fight back the heaviness and the headache that were only getting worse. “(F/n), you dumbass.”

She must have circled the entire vicinity of the temple thrice already, but her best friend was still nowhere to be found. And, around the second time that she had gotten back to the pagoda, she had pulled her phone out to call her— only to curse under her breath when she saw that it was dead.

It wouldn’t have been a problem at all, since she had her backpack with her— but when she checked the contents of it, she didn’t find the power bank that she was sure that she had packed in there that morning.

So, she circled the area once more— getting more frustrated at the pseudo cat and mouse game that she assumed (F/n) was playing with her— until she decided to check outside the temple gates.

Only, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes when an entirely different scene greeted her.

Instead of the asphalt road that she had walked on earlier, there was only a dirt road; which had her chest tightening with panic. Because she couldn’t have been on one of those prank shows she always watched.

But that was the only answer that she was coming up with, as her eyes took in the sight of the busy road in front of her. People were even wearing much older clothes; as opposed to the jeans, button down, and ankle boots combo that she was wearing.

“No, I swear to everything holy… (F/n), if you signed me up for a prank…” She hissed under her breath, swallowing thickly as she frantically looked at all of the people who were going on about their day.

A few gazes were aimed at her, but no one dared to approach her. And it wasn’t like she could simply stroll up to someone and ask them what had happened to the road— because, as it was, she only knew the basics of basic Japanese.

She would sooner make a mistake and ask someone where a gong was, instead of where the road had gone.

It was also at that moment that she realized that she shouldn’t have goofed off while learning Japanese; instead of telling (F/n) that she sucks tiny dicks, she could have used that time to learn some more useful sentences.

Panic was steadily beginning to set in, causing tears to spring up in her eyes as she clutched her useless phone in one hand. She couldn’t even muster up the strength to move from where she stood— the need to cry getting stronger with every passing second.

(Y/n) swore that she would wring her best friend’s neck if all of that ended up as a really unfunny prank. But it seemed that it wasn’t a prank at all, as no one yelled ‘cut’ and not one camera person stepped out to capture the sight of her tears beginning to fall down her face.

Slowly, her panic began to really set in, as she gripped her phone even tighter in her hand— pushing herself to turn on her heel to march back into the temple and try to look for (F/n) in every shrub possible; only, the breath was knocked out of her when she ran smack dab into something.

Or rather, someone.

Red-tinted irises flickered down at the peculiar woman, lingering on her tear-stained face, before they took in the strange clothes that she was wearing.

The strange woman’s clothes weren’t what had the Flame Hashira’s curiosity piquing, however…

It was when her eyes widened with what seemed like fear and genuine shock, before she whispered, “Kyōjurō?”

All that, before promptly passing out— thankfully, in his arms. Otherwise, she would have suffered a painful bump to the head.

“Ani-ue? Do you know her?” Kyōjurō readjusted his hold on the woman in his arms, then looked down at his side to answer his brother with a smile.

“I don’t, Senjurō, but she knows me.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Take her home,” The Hashira’s answer sounded so simple, as if it didn’t have to do with taking a virtual stranger home— one that looked so weird, with a glossy and flat brick at her feet. Because really, his curiosity was really piqued; especially with how he felt his heart skip a beat when she mentioned his name.