#he also does not want to see him marrying any young and eligible women

[tennessoui]

Prompt: Can you shut up!?

hey hi hello!!! so this is set in the princess diaries au (no shame if you never heard of it, it's about 4 posts from about 5 months ago, i just thought the quote fit)

but basically anakin is the princess who writes the diary, obi-wan is chris pratt in the second movie, and they're very annoyed at each other except they also can't stay away or keep their hands off each other. because well. mutual obsession etc etc

(2.8k)

“Princess! Fancy seeing you here,” the most unwelcome voice in the entirety of Genovia and perhaps the world greets Anakin as he turns the corner into the main entrance hall.

He considers turning back immediately, but his grandfather has been trying to drill manners into his head and he knows that such a display of preference—dispreference, perhaps?—would be breaking half.

(Even though it’s not as if Anakin sees Qui-Gon obey all the rules Anakin has spent hours learning since he’d been discovered by his grandfather in San Francisco. All Anakin is saying is if Qui-Gon can knight a cop in order to get out of a speeding ticket, Anakin should be able to walk away from smarmy assholes who don’t know when to stop.)

“Lord Kenobi, what a surprise seeing you. Here. In my home,” he places his hands behind his back, files clenched just a hair too tightly between his hands. “Uninvited,” he adds in case the lord has not noticed that part.

“Apologies,” Lord Kenobi replies. He’s sitting on a side table, probably a Genovian antique worth more than his entire life, long legs crossed at the ankles in front and arms crossed over his chest. Does the man ever wear anything that isn’t a suit? At least he’s left off the jacket this time, but that might even be worse. All Anakin can see is his bare forearms, flexed as they are in that position.

All he can think about is the ball from two nights ago. It had been Anakin’s twenty-first birthday celebration, a coming of age in Genovia that could not be swept under the rug. That was how Qui-Gon put it, though Anakin still thinks his grandfather simply adores having a reason to throw a party.

He’d been warned beforehand that the guest list was mostly princesses and ladies and duchesses, women and girls looking to win his favor and eventually his ring. There weren’t many single, handsome, titled men these days—for good reason, of course, but still.

He’d been warned, but he hadn’t been prepared. After an hour and a half of dancing, he’d taken refuge in the linen closet off the main hall, several rooms away. He’d just needed space to breathe unperfumed air, to clear his head, to remember that he wasn’t just Ani anymore, the poor kid from San Francisco with the shit haircut he loved. He was Anakin Espa Tatoin Set de Shmison, Prince of Genovia.

And that meant dancing with women in ball gowns and long nails that pinched at his arms when he tried to leave before they were ready to see him go. That meant being a piece of meat, to be studied and measured by people he had no interest in.

But how can he say that?

Single, handsome, titled men are supposed to be straight. They’re supposed to be interested in women. And if they’re not—if they’re interested in men as well, that has to be an afterthought. That has to be a shameful secret, hidden away while they parade their beautiful wives around the world.

And single, handsome, titled men who aren’t interested in women at all? Who have only ever wanted to love another man openly and ardently? Who went to the San Francisco Pride Festival at the age of twelve and bawled in the streets at the realization that he wasn’t alone in feeling this way? 

Those don’t exist. Ani cannot exist, not if Anakin, Prince of Genovia is supposed to.

So he’d needed a second to remember, to get his head and his story, well. Straight. And he’d ducked out of the room, into a linen closet just for a few moments to breathe.

That’s all he’d had. Just a few moments. And then the door had opened and someone had closed themselves in with him.

Anakin had opened his mouth to protest—because, really, this was all very indecent, there was hardly any space between their bodies. If Anakin moved a single half-step forward, his entire front would be brushing along a—a very firm chest and broad shoulders, nice arms covered by a dark blue suit.

He must have swallowed his tongue there for a second, and it had given the strange man an opening. “Hello, darling,” he’d said, tone a low hot murmur very close to his ear. “Sincerest apologies for barging in like this, but I wanted to give you this.”

In his hand had been a champagne flute. For the first time, Anakin had followed the line of his arm up to his shoulder and then to his face. The man was gorgeous. His beard was neatly trimmed to the lines of his jaw, his eyes pleasantly crinkled on his smile. His hair had been styled, but several pieces had been falling out and they hung over his forehead.

“I heard it was your birthday, princess,” he’d teased in that same low tone, the lilting accent of a native Genovian coloring his words. “And I know in America they never celebrate twenty-first birthdays without a bit of alcohol. What do they call it again? When they go to different bars all in the same night for the sake of getting wasted?”

Getting wasted had never sounded more appealing than it did in that voice. “Twenty-one run,” Anakin had replied, taking the champagne from the man’s hand. “Usually it’s with harder stuff than champagne though.”

The man had smiled. “Champagne is the chaser, if you want.” He’d opened his jacket to pull out a silvery flask, shaking it slightly so Anakin could hear the liquid sloshing around.

And well. Many people had told Anakin many things throughout the course of his life but definitely since he became Prince of Genovia.

But no one had ever told him not to accept drinks from attractive strangers in cupboards.

They’d stayed there for at least an hour, talking in hushed tones and swapping the flask back and forth, champagne mostly forgotten. When Obi-Wan—his name was Obi-Wan Kenobi, what an amazing name—had complained about it being slightly cramped with both of them sitting opposite each other, Anakin had—Anakin had climbed into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck.

And they’d laughed and Anakin hadn’t heard anything of what Obi-Wan said because he’d been too distracted by the way the man’s hands felt on his waist, and he’d felt so tired that he’d tried to curl up on him and go to sleep right there, face pressed against his neck so that all he could smell was Obi-Wan’s perfume, so strong at this part of his body that it almost drowned out all memories of the perfumes of the women at the ball.

The thought had woken him up. The ball. His ball. He’d been languishing in a linen closet for ages while his ball was going on. Unacceptable. Deplorable.

Obi-Wan had been shocked to feel him scramble up and away, shocked to watch him scrub a hand down his face and over his hair.

“No, no, I have to go,” Anakin had warbled when Obi-Wan’s hands had reached out to catch his own, bring him back to his lap. “No, I can’t—I’m not Ani, I have to be—I’m Anakin, Prince of…Anakin has to…he can’t like you, he has to go—he has to go dance with girls.”

Obi-Wan had stood up and looked at him with such kind, sad eyes that Anakin had thought he would cry if he had to see anything more. He’d turned to go, but Obi-Wan had caught his wrist, pulled him back and into his arms for a crushing and achingly quick hug. “You can have both,” he’d whispered in his ear. “I promise, Anakin. You don’t have to choose between who you are and what your duty is.”

Anakin had shaken his head sharply once, fighting the urge to cry, because he couldn’t. He couldn’t be both. Obi-Wan didn’t understand. Obi-Wan was just a lord. He didn’t understand that as a prince—he was expected to marry, expected to give heirs, expected to—

He’d left the closet but had been unable to get the words of the lord out of his head. Three dances later, he’d seen Obi-Wan standing on the sidelines of the room, next to a severe looking old man, hands clasped behind his back and legs indecently set apart.

You can have both, Obi-Wan had whispered. But was that true? Could it really be true?

It had been liquid courage that had made him cross the room to stand before Obi-Wan as the strings of the last song died. “Can I have this dance?” He’d asked, like an idiot, a tipsy, smitten child. And that’s exactly what Obi-Wan had treated him as, looking quickly at the old man next to him before he’d looked back at Anakin with an eyebrow raised in derision.

“I don’t know,” he’d said, lilting voice carrying so far the palace guards at the mouth of the driveway probably heard. “Can you?”

Anakin had flushed so red, it was a miracle he hadn’t simply burst into flames. But he’d wanted Obi-Wan. He’d wanted to be held and to hold the man again. Something about being around him made him feel safe and looked after. Protected. “May I?” 

And Obi-Wan, the man who had chuckled so deeply into his hair in the linen closet not even an hour ago had turned his head. “I believe someone more suiting your tastes is waiting over there,” he’d said, and Anakin had followed his gaze to spot a young woman clutching at her matriach’s hand, staring at him with stars in her eyes.

“I do not,” he’d said, and he’d sounded unsure, he knows he had. He’d broken and whispered almost furiously between them. “I hoped I could have both.”

Obi-Wan had taken a pointed sip of his champagne flute. “And I hope that with age, your naivety will meet its end. Happy birthday, my prince.”

And then he’d bowed, and then he’d left with that old man, and Anakin had been able to hear the whispers around the ballroom. He’d been so embarrassed, he’d been so angry—

And now Obi-Wan Kenobi is here, leaning on a table and looking at him consideringly as if he has any right to his time or his fucking—side table after what he’d done. He’d humiliated him, after letting him be vulnerable with him.

Worse, he’d—he’d given him hope. And then he’d taken it all away. He’d been a right dick, and Anakin despises him, an opinion that will never change.

“I’m not expecting visitors,” he tells him in a clipped manner, striding by. If he cannot turn around and leave, he will walk past and not engage. There—the grand staircase. He will go up a flight, perhaps two, and then into a random room full of things that can hopefully be broken without costing Genovia a fortune, and he will have a tantrum. “I’m much too busy today.”

“Are you?” Lord Kenobi asks. He says it like it’s a question he already knows the answer to. There’s the sounds of the man getting up, standing straight, and following him, but Anakin is walking much too fast to care.

He does care, however, when the files behind his back are plucked from his hands.

“Looking for a wife, are you?” Kenobi asks rhetorically, thumbing through the files.

Anakin whips around, hand already outstretched, but Kenobi ducks away. “Give those back,” he demands, stalking after him.

“I’m reading,” Kenobi says. “Too boring. Too spontaneous. Too cookie-cutter. Not rich enough. Owns a baking show, but only because of her title, you don’t want that sort of artificiality in your life.”

“Ahrt-e-fiss-i-a-lity,” Anakin mocks before he can stop himself. Kenobi looks over his shoulder with a lazy raised eyebrow, and Anakin wants to kill him.

He starts ascending the stairs and Anakin tears after him, tossing the idea of tackling him onto the floor out of his mind before it can completely form. It would be very satisfying though.

“All women,” Obi-Wan concludes as he reaches the top of the stairs. “Anakin,” his tone is…is disapproving almost. “We talked about this.”

Anakin wants to wrap his hands around Obi-Wan’s neck and squeeze. It is quite a feat of self-control that he does not. “Was that before or after you rejected me on the dancefloor?” he hisses at him angrily.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth as if to say something, but he pauses first and tilts his head. Anakin freezes as well when he hears the voices of a couple of maids down the hall.

Rumors have already begun to spread after the disastrous finale of Anakin’s birthday ball. He does not need to be caught arguing with Obi-Wan Kenobi right now, lest he feed more wood into those flames.

Without quite understanding why his actions are so bad, he blindly reaches out to the closest door and shoves both of them inside its opening.

“Princess, we have to stop meeting like this,” Obi-Wan says, pressed solidly against his front, the folders of all of Anakin’s possible wives the only thing keeping their chests from touching. “People will talk.”

Anakin feels his mouth drop open in outrage before he hits at Obi-Wan’s chest. “People are talking!” he hisses. “You—you rejected me! In front of everyone!”

“You weren’t in your right mind, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, letting himself be hit. Anakin doesn’t like that. Anakin wants Kenobi to fight back. “You were at least tipsy, on your way to fully sozzled. That sort of decision, it needs to be made fully sober. I refuse to take advantage of you like that.”

Anakin stares without seeing at Obi-Wan’s chest, bottom lip trembling slightly despite his best effort. “You were cruel,” he finally manages to say, slapping at Obi-Wan’s chest again. “You were cruel.”

Obi-Wan is silent for several seconds, before he lets out a little sigh. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I am. I—my grandfather was with me, you see. And it would be—if he knew that you held me in high regard, it would be terrible for you. For the crown. And I find myself…opposed to putting you in such a position.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan frowns at the question as if it’s especially offensive to him.

“Because I don’t like thinking about you in distress.”

“Oh, did you not see me after you rejected me in front of—”

“I said, my grandfather was next to me—”

“Oh, well if your grandfather was—”

“I didn’t expect you to do something so public—”

“You got me drunk in a closet and you—”

“I expected a bit more class—”

“I asked you to dance, I didn’t ask you to blow me in the throne room, for fuck’s—”

“Would you?” Obi-Wan is somehow so much closer than before, and Anakin’s hands fall to his shirt for a grip. “Would you ask that of me?”

Anakin falls silent, still. He has no idea what Obi-Wan wants, no idea what the man is after. It feels like all he can do is answer honestly, and the word is on the tip of his tongue when Obi-Wan speaks again. “I would,” he whispers like a secret between them. “If my prince wanted it of me. If I thought my lips wrapped around his length would halt his foolish search for a wife when we both know they’d never be able to give him what he needs—-”

“Can you shut up?” Anakin cries much too loudly, and Obi-Wan grins in the darkness of the closet. “Make me,” he requests teasingly, but Anakin has had enough of being teased by this man. Anakin will not take this any longer.

He sets about making him, yanking him closer to him until their mouths meet. Immediately, Anakin’s eyes slide shut because this is a kiss and he only knows one way to kiss someone: gently, softly.

But he isn’t feeling very gentle and soft towards Obi-Wan right now, and the lord definitely isn’t feeling the same if the way he bites at his lip is any indication. Anakin can’t stop the way he yelps, and when Obi-Wan takes advantage of his opened mouth, he can’t even say he’s surprised.

His yelp quickly turns into an embarrassingly loud moan, and he grips at Obi-Wan’s hair, shoving him back against the wall.

There’s a rushing waterfall of paper, as Obi-Wan drops the files in his hands in order to grab at Anakin’s waist and pull him in, pull him closer.

And that’s how the maid finds them on her journey to grab new linens for one of the bedrooms, liplocked and making out against the one part of the small space, Obi-Wan’s leg slipped between Anakin’s, while Anakin’s hands are clenched around his thighs, the smiling faces of Anakin’s potential wives laying discarded and forgotten on the floor. 

#asks #obikin #prompt fill #princess diaries au #but a little different #in that they're definitely caught kissing in that closet #and also obi-wan is not strong enough to carry on the ruse as long as chris pine is in the second movie #he just looks at anakin and crumbles and wants to help him and be there for him and respect himm #etc etc #he also does not want to see him marrying any young and eligible women #mostly because this anakin is absolutely not interested in women at all #and obi-wan hates to think of him closeting himself like that for life #but also because he'd be sad if anakin married someone not him :( #also obi-wan just calls anakin princess because i think thats hot no more questions pleasae #yes this is STILL a switch au

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

You know, it would be interesting for me to read the gloomy Disney characters. By the type that the Reader accidentally enters the Disney world. Or is already in this world. For example, a man! The Evil Queen× reader. Just imagine that the mirror says that the most beautiful is the reader and the man!The evil Queen was interested.. Well, or dark! A man!A Disney princess who believes in love and believes that the reader is his true love and that the reader should belong only to him.

Sorry for the bad English

Don't apologize

You're perf, babes

Yandere!Genderbent!Evil King x GN!Reader x Yandere!Genderbent!Snow White

CW: Death, obsessive behavior

"Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The vain king asked his enchanted mirror as he often did whenever his pride was wounded. King Hadewig was the envy of men and women. Cold and beautiful, his features were cut like an ethereal ice sculpture. Intelligent, talented, and ruthless, most everyone either wanted to bed him or be him. However, his power was not guaranteed for long.

Hadewig was King only by responsibility, and not by actual title. His title was, legally, Prince Consort. He married his, now deceased, wife when he was a young bachelor, and she was the only eligible bachelorette of suitable status as a widow. Being so much older than him, it was an "unfortunate", but not "unsurprising" passing of the crown when the Queen died and left her son in Hadewig's care.

The only reason the child wasn't immediately crowned king was because of Hadewig's charm and influence, convincing the court that the young Prince Snow was too irresponsible to rule the country. But it was difficult to continue that lie going, even with Hadewig purposely keeping Snow ignorant of his future kingly duties by treating him as a servant, for now the boy was twenty years of age, and truly should have not only been coronated years ago, but also wed off to the available princess of the neighboring kingdom, a woman as old as Hadewig.

But his potential loss of power wasn't the reason for his low self esteem that day.

"You are, my king. There is one who approaches, but does not yet share with you what makes you fair."

The king slumped in his seat in an uncouth like manner. "Then why does my hunter not look at me like a man?"

King Hadewig's personal hunter, an immensely talented killer that didn't just slaughter animals for the king. And the only person who simply looked at the king. Nothing Hadewig did could change the professional look on (Reader's) face during their meetings. No matter how charismatic he was with his words, how stylish his clothing was, nor the love potions he attempted to spike (Reader's) drinks with, they were seemingly immune to every one of his attempts. In their most recent meeting, the one that left Hadewig depressed, he had offered his hunter a glass of wine, which they turned down, stating that the last drink they had received from the king did not agree with them.

"I can not tell you that, my lord. I only can report what I see, so unless your hunter speaks their secrets out loud while I spy, I am blind to their feelings for you."

Hadewig groaned, upset and broken hearted.

"Show me my hunter, again."

The face in the mirror melted, dissolving into an image of (Reader) leaving the castle. Their strong frame sent shivers down the icy man's spine. His first and only marriage was one of political importance, with no love or warmth between the husband and wife. But in the presence of his Mx. Hunter, the king was set ablaze. The intense feeling of heat was dowsed when he witnessed the bastard he hated most in the world approach his hunter.

At the steps of the castle, Snow had been timidly watching the triumphant hunter from afar, gathering the courage to approach them. He had never known shame, never feeling any sort of embarrassment about the state of his dress, but in the presence of the person who always smelled faintly of iron, he was reduced to two inches tall.

Stepping lightly like a mouse, the short adult snuck up behind (Reader), still debating whether or not he was actually going to announce his presence.

His decision was made for him, however, being noticed by (Reader) almost immediately.

"Good afternoon, your highness." They said, turning sharply on their heel to face him.

The hunter was the only person to address the prince by his royal status.

"Ah- how did you know it was me?" He asked incredulously. A pink blush warmed his entire head, wrapping around the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

"Because I could hear you." (Reader) offered a kind smile to the shy, younger man. They felt sympathy towards him, with the way his cold step father treated him. With what they had done to him.

Snow was impressed by how cool (Reader) was. And a small part of him wished to impress them as well. He tried to straighten out his worn out rags. "What brings you to the castle today?"

"To gift the king a wolf pelt. And also," (Reader) reached into their pouch, pulling out a pressed flower, "to gift you this."

The prince sucked in his gasp, wide eyed and lips pressed tight.

"I apologize for not finding something better for your highness."

"No!" He panicked, grabbing the flower with both hands. "It's beautiful!"

He hadn't received a gift since the passing of his mother.

"Happy Birthday, your highness." (Reader) bowed, then turned swiftly, leaving the young man hyperventilating and sweating.

Only the king and his mirror heard Snow whisper long after (Reader) left: "I love you."

Three days later, and the king was losing his mind over the interaction. Snow was visibly taller, standing straighter as he worked, singing as he cleaned the castle grounds, and it was bothering him.

Hadewig kicked over his chair in frustration. "Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"The one you fear is getting stronger, the confidence has warmed his winter, and people shall notice his spring awakening. The prince now glows more brightly than you, whose anger has etched lines of hatred into his ice like face."

King Hadewig released a scream, losing his control before quickly sharpening back up, running his hands through his messed hair.

He left his study, storming over towards a frightened servant.

"Send for my hunter."

Before (Reader), the king was disheveled, worrying (Reader) something awful.

"I can not stand for this disrespect any longer." His gaze read cold and cruel as it pierced the hunter's. "You understand that you are mine, correct?"

(Reader) thought about the flower and felt a wave of anxiety. "Yes, your highness."

"You understand that you belong to me?"

"Yes, your highness."

He sighed ever so slightly, before retrieving a wooden box from his desk. "I have another assignment for you.

Kill my son."

Nausea threatened to erupt from the seasoned murderer. "My lord?"

"Take him deep into the woods, and bring me back his heart." He held out the box. It was a test, as though (Reader) hadn't proved their loyalty to the mad man enough.

The empty box was heavy in (Reader's) hands.

"As you wish, your highness."

Prince Snow spun in the field of flowers as he searched for the most beautiful flowers for the hunter. It was the best day of his life! His father had given him a colorful outfit that fit him and the hunter had asked him out on a date! Well, they didn't call it a date, but what else could it have been?

He wove a crown for (Reader) while imaging their wedding day, becoming King and Royal Consort and having a real crown placed on their head.

(Reader), however, was weighing their options, not truly paying attention to the prince, and trying to ignore his childlike excitement.

What would the king do, if he was made a fool?

"Oh, hunter!" Snow ran over, holding out the delicate crown. "I made this for you! May I?"

And that was all it took, for (Reader) to spare his life.

They bent down, feeling the weight of the crown on their scalp. It smelled nice. Before Snow could retreat, (Reader) wrapped their arms around his thin waist. They had killed so many people before, but this was only the second time they felt unbearable guilt.

The first was after they took the life of the Queen.

"(Reader)?" Snow stuttered out, feeling weak in their strong arms.

"You must run, your highness." (Reader) whispered into his ear.

"What?"

"The king has ordered me to kill you. So please, run. Far away, into the woods." They released the prince, and it was only then that he noticed the heavy bags under their tired eyes.

"Why? I don't understand-"

"Leave. It won't be long before that witch discovers my lie."

Snow fell to his knees, holding onto the edge of (Reader's) shirt for dear life, falling apart in front of them. "Please, no! Come with me! If he would kill me, what would he do to you for sparing me? Please, run away with me!"

(Reader) bent down to release his fingers from their hem, planting a kiss on his forehead as they did so. "I hope when I meet you again you will have found a name more worthy of such a warm and kind person. For as of this moment, Prince Snow is dead."

Excitement threatened to crack the King's cool demeanor as he observed the bloody heart in his hands. (Reader) was distant, but that didn't matter to Hadewig, for now there was no competition for his hunter's affection. They would soon be his, even if he had to use force to make it so.

"Excellent work, my faithful hunter." He offered a practiced smile, unnerving (Reader) who prayed that the pig heart made a convincing decoy. At least until they could escape and hide out in the mountains, far away from the King's eyes.

(Reader) gave a deep bow. Then they left, calmly getting on their horse, and leaving, not taking a single glance behind them as they sped off, emergency bag already packed on their steed.

Back in Hadewig's room, he caressed the box affectionately, thinking about his lovely hunter. The stress had certainly caused a frown line, just as the mirror said, but he was working at reversing the damage.

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" He dreamily asked, slightly nervous that the rage had permanently ruined his perfect face.

"Hiding deep within the woods, tending a wounded heart, the fairest in the land hides. Prince Snow still lives."

The king scoffed. "I have his heart right here, mirror."

"No, within that box lies the heart of a pig."

The box fell from Hadewig's hands. "A pig..?" His face scrunched up painfully. "(Reader) would never betray- they belong to me! ME! Guards! Where is my hunter?!"

"The hunter is flying towards the mountains, away from the woods they released the prince into."

Hadewig collapsed at his desk, screaming in agony while pawing at his chest. "No! It's all his fault! Find me that little bastard- I'll kill him myself!"

The seven dwarven women listened to the young man recall his tale of woe, his eyes full of tears but a smile still on his lips. "So, if you please, could I stay here? Just until my love returns for me."

Happy sighed dramatically, blushing and twirling her beard. "That (Reader) is so brave~"

Grumpy smacked the back of her head. "That double crosser may have saved the prince, but that doesn't mean they won't double double cross him!"

Bashful stomped a foot. "It's true love! They would never!"

"Well, they never confessed their feelings," Doc said while cleaning her glasses, "they could have saved Snow out of the goodness of their heart."

Snow smiled, trying to calm the fragments of his heart. "I have to believe, to hope, that (Reader) loves me as I love them. To risk death for me.. but, they said we would meet again. And I trust them."

It was painful, knowing that his father wanted him dead, but what was worse was hearing that (Reader) had put their life in danger for him. Despite all the pain and punishment Snow had endured, he never held it against his step father, but now..

A dark, bitter seed had been planted.

And throughout the night as the household slept, Prince Snow could feel it grow, threatening to burst forth from his chest. The dwarven women were so kind to him. So inviting, and trusting.

He wondered what else they would do for him.

The dark haired man knew that the apple was poison from the moment it was placed in his hands. What kind of elderly man would be this far out away from any sort of town, especially if they were traveling to sell produce? He didn't know who the old man was, but knew that he must have been in cahoots with the king.

"Oh, I don't have any money." Snow said quite sadly, placing his head in his hand.

"For such a lovely young man? Free of charge."

"Are you sure?"

The old man was certainly no real beggar. Nothing made sense. It was cruel, what Snow thought to do, especially if he was wrong, but in case he was right.. Snow whispered to a bird before smiling brightly at the stranger, taking the apple in both hands.

"Of course, please take it!"

Snow bit into the fruit, but did not swallow, hiding the chunk in his hand. After a few seconds of pretending to chew, he collapsed, holding his breath.

The king almost immediately dropped his disguise, snarling. His once similarly raven hair had a stripe of grey.

In a voice barely louder than a huff, he said "It serves you right, you filthy bastard. I would have let you live, if you had simply left my (Reader) alone."

He exhaled. There was no movement from the floor.

"Are you dead yet? Can you still hear me? I hope you can." The king smiled. "I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave as I finally get my happily ever after."

But as he celebrated the dwarves rushed home from work, and a small bird was rallying forces to find the hunter and lead them to Snow's body.

As he monologued to what Hadewig assumed was his son's corpse, the women returned from the mines, righteously horrified and armed with pickaxes.

Hadewig heard a woman shout "Grumpy, don't!" before a pick connected with his lower back, piercing his organs from behind.

The pain was excruciating, sending fire up his body as blood poured out of him. He imagined (Reader's) face, finally smiling for him as they cradled him in their arms, accepting his love. Hadewig wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Instead, he witnessed Snow, smiling up at him from the floor.

(Reader) arrived just a moment too late, having been closer than they had expected due to how deep into the woods Snow had traveled. They witnessed the sobbing dwarves sitting at the door, too upset to enter their own home where the young prince they tried to rescue lie dead.

The hunter pushed passed them, not wasting a second to grab the young man. He was still warm, but wasn't breathing.

Snow kept his eyes closed as he felt the worst pain he had ever known.

(Reader's) hands slammed into Prince Snow's chest. A rib cracked under their strength, but Snow refused to show it.

Then their lips pressed against his.

His nose was held shut as (Reader) forced air into his throat, trying to get him to wake up. They continued the repetitions a medicine man had taught them while blowing air into his lungs.

"God damnit, Snow, wake up!"

They leaned in, and felt him breath against their mouth. His large brown eyes fluttered open, and his face reddened.

His lips curled into a weak grin. "You came back for me.."

Guilt washed over (Reader), hugging him tightly to their chest. "I'm sorry I left, Prince Snow."

Warm hands ran through (Reader's) hair. "Please.. Call me Theros."

The regret and pain kept (Reader) still, allowing the recently "revived" prince to pull them in for a kiss.

After all that (Reader) put him through, a kiss was the least they could do.

But for the born again man, it was just the beginning.

#sorry it took so long #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #genderbent #yandere king #yandere prince #love triangle #strong reader #cw blo0d #cw death

[free-for-all-fics]

Part 1 of Historical/Fairytale AUs with Tenoch! I love period dramas like Bridgerton and the creative juices just kept flowing. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these and write something. I’d love to read it! 💜

1. Cinderella-esque Bridgerton AU: Prince José of Mexico (Tenoch) has come over to England for the season because he’s in want of a wife. After her daughter’s failure to secure a proposal from Prince Friedrich, Lady Cowper commissions you, a cobbler’s daughter, to make a pair of one-of-a-kind slippers for Cressida so that she may catch Prince José’s eye. The slippers you craft for her are clear as ice and pure as water. They sparkle and shine almost like glass. But instead of the spoiled girl wearing the “glass” slippers, Prince José wants to find the person who hand crafted shoes of such exquisite beauty, for they must possess great talent. When he does finally track down the correct cobbler’s shop, he’s surprised to learn ‘twas not the cobbler, but you, his daughter, who made the “glass” slippers. He pursues you in courtship, acting every bit a gentleman as he promenades with you and gifts you fine dresses and jewelry, expensive flowers, etc. He goes by Prince José of Mexico officially in public and among social circles, but he asks you to call him Tenoch after you’ve become friends.

The Ton is abuzz with gossip about yet another prince who has fallen in love with someone else despite Ms. Cowper’s efforts. Lady Whistledown remarks on the permanent sneer on Ms. Cowper’s face, for it seems the young woman who has stolen this prince’s heart comes not from the prestigious upbringing that makes a proper lady, nor has she been presented to Queen Charlotte at court. She instead is a free-spirited country girl from the village, a widowed cobbler’s daughter, often seen with dirt on her dress and hands smelling vaguely of shoe polish and leather. A very unusual and independent woman indeed. Even when Tenoch has to travel and be apart from you, absence makes the heart grow fonder. You exchange heartfelt love letters. In one such letter, Tenoch proposes, to which you respond, “Yes, my dear heart, I will marry you. I’m ready to travel, and you’re my ticket.”

2. Bridgerton AU: Tenoch is brought to the Ton because of a questionable past at home. His parents sent him to his uncle because marrying him off would hopefully keep him out of trouble and away from scandal. He immediately becomes the most eligible and sought-after bachelor but refuses to out right court anyone, instead acting unavailable and uninterested in marriage. All the eligible ladies are fighting for his attention. Surprisingly he starts calling them out on their own shallowness and pretentious behavior and they bow out from embarrassment. One by one they go away until there's no one left who wants him because he can see through all the facades. But there's one woman that, despite some egregious wrong like sabotaging another lady’s dress, has caught his eye because of how she atones for her mistakes. She's decided to stop pursuing marriage the way her family has pushed her so hard to and finds herself among the lower classes fighting for more women's rights. She’s something of a social radical, making her even more appealing to Tenoch who starts calling on her and courting her despite her refusals.

3. Bridgerton AU: Tenoch is a nobleman who no one wants because he has a child out of wedlock -side eye- but he's also one of the richest newcomers to the Ton. But reader likes him and doesn't mind he has a child despite everyone spreading rumors. Tenoch thinks reader is just after his money, fully aware that the child is off-putting to most people. In reality, the child isn’t even his by blood, despite what Lady Whistledown writes. In actuality, He adopted the child from a woman of the night who died helping him when he was robbed. He just didn't care to correct anyone. He never paid any mind to the opinions of strangers; their thoughts and words don’t matter in his eyes. But it's also why he moved to the Ton because he had heard they were more accepting of others. There’s another woman that Tenoch considers courting for a while but when she treats his child badly and you defend the boy/girl from her, he realizes who he should choose.

4. Bridgerton AU: Whenever you meet at a ball, Tenoch always manages to get his name on your dance card. With each ball you attend, other eligible men's names take up less and less space, until Tenoch’s name is the only one that fills up your entire card. For every dance, Tenoch is your partner. Even though your chaperone may not be happy about it, he’s the only man you’re courting in earnest with the intent to marry.

5. Bridgerton AU: Reader is a Bridgerton who’s recently made her debut into society. She attends ball after ball with her many siblings, looking for potential suitors. Despite the many eligible bachelors she’s danced with, none spark her interest. She’s felt more chemistry when being fitted at the modiste. But then Tenoch, one of the musicians from the orchestra, catches reader’s eye. And if she conveniently lost her white satin glove right in front of him - well, she was known to be kind of clumsy. She’s like her sister, Eloise, after all.

6. Bridgerton AU: You’re an aspiring artist, but since women aren’t allowed to attend art classes at the Royal Academy, you work as a model to access the art lectures and further your studies. This is how you meet Tenoch, a new student with much promise and potential. You disrobe so he can draw you. Later, outside of class time, you’re drawing in an empty classroom when Tenoch walks in and complements your drawings. You both share a few drinks and smoke together, until you encourage Tenoch to model for you, adjusting his pose as needed before you draw him. When Tenoch asks how long he needs to hold still, you explain that it depends, because what you really need is to study the male form - the naked form. So Tenoch takes off his clothes, and the two of you later sleep together.

7. Cinderella-esque AU similar to the love story of Benedict Bridgerton and Sophie Beckett. Reader is the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman whose only window to the outside world is Lady Whistledown’s column. After her mother’s death, her father took reader in as his ward but kept her far away from society, sequestering her in a cottage. Her father’s widow forces reader to be a servant within his household after his death. Tenoch is the gentleman of higher status and wealthier upbringing who repeatedly tries to seduce reader, asking her to become his mistress. When reader borrows a few dresses and shoes from a neighbor to attend a few balls, Tenoch doesn’t recognize her. At each ball, she must leave by midnight. On the last night, she leaves something behind in her haste to flee. Tenoch uses this item to find his mystery maiden. Even after her true identity is revealed, he still wants to marry her because he’s fallen in love with her.

8. You’re an ambassador for a small nation, and after having spent some time with Tenoch, the ambassador of your nation’s worst enemy, you’ve fallen in love with each other. But your respective nations are getting suspicious, and if you don’t act soon, your relationship with “the enemy” will be outed. Weeks later, a team of agents is sent to the Ambassadors Ball to try and capture a homme fatal. He’s committed various assassinations, luring men and women alike to their death. He’s never been identified but is said to be ordinary looking and currently on a job against your nation. Something happens at the ball that makes you suspect Tenoch and the homme fatal are one and the same.

9. Reader is a princess who runs away and joins a gang of outlaws to avoid an arranged marriage. While staying with the outlaws, she falls in love with Tenoch, the man she was supposed to marry who also ran away. Neither of them realize they’re engaged. Meanwhile, her parents peddle a story that the princess has been kidnapped by bandits. The Royal Family can only imagine what horrors she must be going through. Meanwhile in the Bandit Camp they started teaching her the art of lock-picking.

10. You were set in an arranged marriage with someone who is very wealthy, and has a very loose definition of marriage: A legal binding with inheritance. "You and I don't owe each other anything in any regard," he says, genuinely smiling. "if you find someone you love, you can be with them." (Tenoch is either your husband or your lover, up to you.)

11. A widowed duke sold his only daughter to the crown prince to better the relationship between the royals, but after 10 years of marriage, the daughter dies. The regretful father hires Reader, A 19th-century detective, to investigate the dark truth. While you’re investigating, you can’t rule out the grieving duke, who’s still a suspect of the recent death. Could it have been murder? Or was it an accident? To follow a lead, you disguise yourself as a mysterious noblewoman in order to be invited to a ball held by Tenoch, who may or may not be engaging in suspicious or illicit activity. At this ball, you meet the man of the hour. (Bonus: Since 19th century society is harsh to women with “unconventional” careers, Reader utilizes men’s clothing, wigs, and makeup to assume a false male identity. She effectively disguises herself as male while acting as detective. The Duke, like many clients before him, assumed he hired a man for the task. Nobody, not even Tenoch, realizes that the detective sticking his nose in places where it doesn’t belong and the alluring noblewoman he’s met at his ball are one and the same.)

12. Write an AU story for Tenoch using the dialogue, "I swear, I didn't mean to kidnap the royal heir! It was an accident!"

13. You were surprised when Prince Tenoch proposed to you and even more surprised when the kingdom accepted you as their new princess. It seems you're going to have your happily ever after. There's just one problem: The Prince’s daughter mistrusts you and doesn’t want you to be her stepmother. The child believes all stepmothers are horrible and wicked, like her storybooks say.

14. Cinderella-esque AU: This was by far one of the most awkward situations you had been in. Even after explaining that you simply needed them to get access to the castle in time for the royal ball, the cobbler still wasn't sure about how to make a comfortable pair of shoes out of Fool’s Gold. You don’t need them to wear, but to swap out. You're a spy who infiltrates the palace as a maid, spending weeks in the castle to map it out and learn all possible routes and passageways, including the patrol patterns of the Royal guards. During your time there, you keep running into Prince Tenoch. He’s very friendly, always wanting to talk to you since you must be new. He can’t help it if he flirts with you. You evade him whenever possible but keep up the act when you inevitably can’t avoid him. You’ve planned this all out and have come too far to give up or abort the mission now. You’re prepared to earn the Prince’s trust. You’ll play your part and seduce him if you must. All so you can steal the renowned and highly-valued glass slippers, with the help of your anonymous associates. Soon the kingdom is abuzz with talk of a wanted thief on the loose. Prince Tenoch is searching for the girl who stole the glass slippers. Reward to anyone who captures her and brings her to him, alive.

15. Everyone knows of the Gentleman Thief: he was never caught, his crimes are executed with style, and he’s always quick with a clever quip with a constant smile on his face. One evening, he suddenly shows up at a ball being held for the nobility of the land, sword in hand. There’s no sign of humor about him this time. When attacking the royal ball, the Thief hired infiltrators to counter the castle guards. Which is why the King and Queen were very surprised when it was not the gentlemen, but instead every lady in the ball who drew swords from their gowns.

16. Reader, the newly crowned queen, is being pressured from all sides to choose a suitor, but she isn't sure which noble house killed her father and stuck her on the throne. So she chooses the one person she knows couldn't have been involved: Tenoch, the thief who was caught stealing from the palace wine vineyard.

17. Cinderella-esque AU: Reader and Tenoch are lovers, but since he’s a prince and she’s a mere baron’s daughter, they have to keep their love secret. But Tenoch doesn’t want to hide anymore, so he comes up with a plan. "One day," the prince reiterated to the peasant girl. "You're fed and clothed like a princess for a day, we attend the ball and dance together, and we make just enough of a spectacle that my father won't mind so much if I go on to court a 'lower' noble. Nobody would recognize you, my love. They’ll never have to know the mystery princess and baron’s daughter are one and the same. What do you say?"

#tenoch huerta x reader #tenoch huerta mejia x reader #tenoch huerta fanfic #tenoch x reader #tenoch fic #historical au #fairytale au #bridgerton au #cinderella au #random fic ideas #fic ideas #random prompts #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it #some of these i got from reddit so i can’t take all the credit

[thetonhq-narrator]

Dear Readers,

The snowy pathways have done little to discourage the incoming participants for this season. An interesting group of characters, both new and returning, must be enjoying the interlude before the fun truly begins. Mamas are anxious to have their daughters married off, and others are eager to see who will be named the Diamond of the Season. Do not doubt that I will be watching very closely. Some have already begun to catch my eye. How dreadful.

Readers, we've come across one of the most sought-after Lovell gentlemen on the market. Major Lovell [@majorjasperlovell​] is a decorated soldier returning home from war, who already has young ladies fawning over the his bravery. His time spent in captivity only adds to his allure, but he returned home a year ago and did not attend the last season. This author wonders if his extended stay in the country is more than healing a wound. Terrible things can happen to the mind when facing confinement, and Lord Lovell’s eccentricities have intensified, according to my sources.

Consequence: Your membership at all social clubs have been suspended for a week IC. These respectable establishments will not have a loon as a member of their clubs. You are looked at with pity and fear when you walk down the street. 

The opera house is a wonderful place to immerse yourself in music and drama. Singer Rachel Clarke has dazzled audiences for years and is said to be retiring soon. Tragic. It does seem the young, unmarried woman will be expecting a child soon. Her cruel glances at Mr. Thomas Dowding [@misterdowding] beg the question of whether his powerful words enchanted this singer and left her with something to remember him by. Poets are known for their dalliances. Could it be a coincidence?

Consequence: The Patronesses of Almack’s declare you “unmarriageable.”

The gentlemen may have their struggles, but the ladies of this season are not exempt from my criticism. We have a returner this season in the form of Lady Grovesnor-Rivera [@viscountessxia]. She claims she left the last season early due to her new duties as Viscountess, though it appears she also left due to heartbreak. Mr. Alhborn, a desired suitor from last season, was courting the Viscountess, before openly mocking her appearance to fellow gentlemen at the horse races. Word reached her ears, leading to her quick exit. Being plain and making a scene do not make a pretty picture. 

Consequence: You receive a flood of angry letters from distressed mamas demanding you, a titled lady, set a better example for their unwed daughters. This is nothing compared to the gentlemen keeping a wide birth between you and themselves, not wanting to subject themselves to your dramatics. 

It is wonderful to see young women make their debut for the first time. Lady Magnolia Wetherby [@latetobloom​] returns to English soil with her father, the French Ambassador, after having escaped Napoleon’s advances on the continent. Surely, her time spent in France will make for an exotic choice for the Diamond. However, did France teach her how to be the perfect English wife? My sources tell me not. It is a shame to see a woman of high birth with no wifely skills.

Consequence: Your strolls down the street are met with laughter by the eligible ladies of the Ton. You are mocked and ridiculed for lacking any wifely abilities. Overwhelmed by the scorn, you “take ill” and shut yourself in your home for three days IC until the attention dies down.

The return of Countess Wright [@ladypwright], or former you could say has made a return to society after the loss of her husband. What a sad tale, but to act so unladylike is despicable. Sadness does not excuse drunkenness, or we’d have to forgive every drunk in the city! Even so, her drunken stupors have her behavior like a servant, cleaning rooms before passing out in her own. This author questions if her staff is not doing their job, or the Countess is attempting to make amends to a dead man.

Consequence: Your entire maid staff is refusing to work. They would quit if Whistledown’s letters did not taint their reputation to do their job. Your home is a mess for a week IC. Hopefully, you won’t have any callers during this time. 

Princess Marina [@sovereiigna​], a stunning addition to the ladies of this season, is making an appearance. Gentleman, do not think the princess will be so easy to win over. The Queen and her daughter have been heard to have had loud arguments over their differing expectations for this season. The Princess insists on a love match, or no match at all! A selfish thing to want when your match determines the fate of the kingdom. Readers, is the princess ready for this? Or will she leave with a broken heart and no prospects?

Consequence: Your declarations for a love match have gentleman coming in droves to sing your praises. Your guards are overwhelmed by the amount of men approaching, and you find yourself alone, surrounded by suitors. You leave the encounter fearful, staying close to your mother’s side. 

The time is coming for the ladies and lords of the season to find their match. Last season saw the union of Lord Harcourt and Lady Mulgrave. I'm curious to see what pairings or heartbreaks we'll see this season. Rest assured, I will be watching with my quill ready. I know you all missed me.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

#theton;lady whistledown #Lady Whistledown

[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 

#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

[misscrawfords]

For the bad Austen take game: Fanny Price is boring. (I hated even typing that)

 Aaaaahhhh, you went straight to the jugular!

Mansfield Park was published in 1814, a year after Pride and Prejudice. The latter contained a spirited, active, and witty heroine. The former, a heroine who was shy, physically weak, and very introverted.

Fanny Price is actually closer to what a lot of contemporary heroines were like. Elizabeth Bennet, bursting in on the scene with her “pert opinions” and physical vigor and her direct challenges to the hero is not ahistorical because clever and witty heroines do exist in literature of the time, but she takes that to the next level.

The “perfect heroine” of the early 18th century in many novels was sweet, virtuous, morally dutiful, and somewhat passive. She was prone to fainting, basically had no faults, and at the end of the novel was rewarded with the love of the hero. She is not always a particularly interesting figure and often such narratives have a foil in a lively, witty anti-heroine who brings the fun to the novel but cannot be rewarded with a happy ending because she does not display the appropriate morals. That way the author and reader can get the pleasure of a “bad girl” or at least a “fun girl” without disrupting the expected didactic morals required of (many) novelists at the time.

Fanny Price and Mary Crawford are interesting variations on that. Fanny, like all of Austen’s heroines, challenges contemporary notions of what being a heroine was about. Austen does this in all her novels though Emma is the most obvious example. Fanny has many of the qualities that you would expect from a contemporary heroine but she is also not particularly attractive (a heroine should always be the most beautiful woman in the room) and it is hard to read her excessive passivity and not feel irritated by it. She has a much deeper inner life than most of her contemporaries of this type. We see her jealousy of Mary Crawford, we see her misery, we see her unrequited love for Edmund, her complicated feelings regarding her home in Portsmouth in ways that make her fully rounded internally, only little of that is spoken out loud. These feelings are very human and understandable, but they are not always to her credit and knowing them, we wish she could act on them. Austen seems to be asking the reader to take the classic novel heroine and then ask, “How would she really respond to novel situations?”

Austen’s plot also challenges expected novelistic plots. Edmund Bertram is not a satisfactory romantic hero. He is as quiet and rigidly moral as Fanny... except he blows all his convictions by his blind infatuation on Mary and he spends 99.9% of the novel oblivious to Fanny’s feelings or even that she’s an eligible woman at all. I have sympathy for him as well as for Fanny because he’s very young (only 22/23) and making poor judgements over women at that age and being an oblivious numpty over your childhood best friend’s crush seems pretty normal to me. Nevertheless, following Mr. Darcy, he’s hardly the stuff of dreams.

The character and plot that does seem more novelistic is Henry Crawford and his pursuit of Fanny. He’s handsome and rich and a bit of a rake. Then he meets Fanny who he attempts to seduce, falls in love with her for real, proposes to her and is rejected, then changes his behaviour, tries again and is accepted now that he is reformed and worthy her love.... wait. Rewind. That’s not what happened! Think this plot looks familiar? It should. Henry Crawford is what a lot of people think Mr. Darcy is who don’t understand Mr. Darcy on any level. Henry Crawford genuinely is a handsome bad boy who is reformed by the love of a virtuous woman after being rejected by her. And Austen teases readers with a redemption arc and a real enemies-to-lovers plot. But Henry is as real and complicated and human as Fanny and Edmund - he fails at the last hurdle and cannot complete his redemption arc. He relapses at the last moment. Isn’t that true to life? And is reforming a rake really Fanny’s destiny in life? She doesn’t think so. She sees right through his charm and hates who he is underneath. She doesn’t reject him as Elizabeth does Darcy because she doesn’t understand him; she rejects him because she understands him perfectly. She is the only person in the novel who does. I feel it would be a poor ending for Fanny to make her marry a man she despises and become the mistress of a large estate which brings with it the kind of social duties she must have been unhappy executing.

Fanny gets what she wants. She quietly, patiently does not change. She is surrounded by the superficial, the brash, the badly behaved, the immoral, the weak and she remains strong and stoical and by doing this and remaining true to her values, she triumphs. She wins. She gets the man she wants. She is truly and fully adopted into the heart of Mansfield Park with all her enemies and rivals removed. She is acknowledged as the best of them all. Without even needed to do anything except endure and stick to her guns, she defeats every big boss in her path.

These are not attractive modern values. Our concept of a “strong woman” (*shudder*) is Elizabeth Bennet. But not all of us are Elizabeth Bennets. Most of us aren’t in fact. Most of us are quiet and insecure and filled with envies, jealousies, private sadnesses. Many of us have experienced at some point less than ideal family situations and reacted not by being spirited and clever but by curling up in a ball and just waiting it out. Shouldn’t Fanny be held up as an icon for winning in absolutely the worst of circumstances? But she is an Aeneas in a society that only wants to read about Odysseuses and Achilleses.

Finally, another way in which Austen was distinctly saying in MP, “Hey, so, if you thought I was going to write another P&P, JOKE’S ON YOU, MATEY!” is that the entire novel is an anti-romance. Of course you’re going to be frustrated with Fanny and Edmund if you’re looking for a pair of exciting characters who fall in love and get a swoonworthy romance. But if you read MP as an examination of bad love, inappropriate love, selfish love, inexperienced love, love that taints and goes wrong through the eyes of a quiet and insightful observer who herself suffers the crushing and all too familiar pangs of hopelessly unrequited love - then you find a character and a novel that are rich, satirical, and deeply intimate and clever.

#jane austen #mansfield park #fanny price #mansfield park defence squad

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

The Red Viper and the Honeybee - Oberyn Martell x Bridgerton AU

Bridgerton AU!Oberyn Martell x Fem!Bridgerton!reader

Author’s Note: I fell down the rabbit hole of Oberyn content and I watched Bridgerton on Netflix, it is terrible from a historical standpoint but from a story standpoint it is fantastic. So that is why I am labelling this as Bridgerton as its own au instead of a historical au and also I am putting you (reader insert) as the diamond of the season or Daphne Bridgerton, but trying to be as inclusive as I can be with your skin, hair, and body type (by not putting my bias involved). Also I will be basing a lot of etiquette and phrasing from the regency and romantic era. I hope that clears things up for you.

TL:DR: Bridgerton horrible for historical fiction but fantastic for story inspiration. Bridgerton is basically the Regency Era!Lite with a dash of modernism in it. Also you are 21-23 years old and Oberyn is mid 20s-30s years old in this fic.

Warnings: Men being pretentious, some misogyny happening, society having expectations for  women, historical misogyny in general (please take care of yourselves before and after reading this if these sort of things can hurt you, I love you all), Game of Throne characters being OOC (I mean like all of them, sorry)

Taglist: @ ilikechocolatemilkh , @janelongxox Thank you for being interested in this mess enough to be tagged in this

Word Count: almost 10k (this got over me, yikes)

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For a man to capture my whole heart and attention, they must treat me as their equal and partner in life, for if they don’t then I would be a fool for yearning for them in the first place. My mother was the one to instill these ideals in me since I was young and wants me to find a partner that will be my best friend in all that I am and the same for him.

I debuted in the social market of Westeros rather late in the standards of high society but my father recently passed away so it was overlooked in that sense as my family was given a grieving period to be allowed to be secluded from the world to grieve properly. My father and mother are my favorite people in the world who I adore as well as my younger sisters and older brothers. I am the eldest daughter whom I’ve been giving responsibility to secure finances with suitors, but my family (may the gods bless them so) will forever love me even as a spinster if I never find one in my lifetime.

My homeland is Honeyholt and my mother is the Duchess of Honeyholt, my family is in a unique standing with the high society of Westeros so our family may seem odd and quirky but society is keen to overlook that factor because of our business. Honeyholt prides itself on being fair and equal to all members of their county and business, which lends itself to the citizens and workers of Honeyholt giving us high praise for our practices. 

Our land and business is best known for our signature honey wine, brandy, and teas specifically floral teas are our best ones. The Bridgerton name is branded with pride on each bottle and jar of our products. 

My older brother, Anthony, is being groomed to take the title of Marquis of Honeyholt. He is very protective over me whenever we go out to social dances, so even if I wanted to find a suitor he yanks me away from them to dance with him or my other brothers Colin and Benedict. It is exhausting between the three of them, Benedict is just as protective as Anthony, but less overbearing, and Colin is much like a guard dog, silent but ready to bite the hands off any man who comes near me. My two allies against them are my younger sisters Eloise and Hyacinth, when I want to dance with a young man they both cause mischief on my brothers before they intervene. 

My family got invited to a ball out in the Westerlands near the House of Lannister, and that meant great news to my mother who was excited to show me off in the Westeros season of dancing. Which hopefully by the good graces of the gods that I will be allowed to find a potential suitor. This ball would be a formal social event to all that attend, and my good friend and mentor Lord Tyrion Lannister promised me to make an appearance there.

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

We all got dressed in beautiful formal wear, with our signature bee insignia placed somewhere on our persons. My brothers have it embroidered on their collars, while my sisters and I have bee hair pins in our hair styles. The bees do a lot of hardwork in our county and business, so we wear it proudly on our coat of arms and whenever we go out to social events. It is a sign of a united front to us, and that family is of the utmost importance to all of us.

We are all in the carriage riding to the Lannister mansion’s assembly room that was used for such occasions. 

“I hope you are not looking forward to the company of Jaime Lannister, this evening? You know how much I oppose his character,” Colin starts.

“I agree with Colin on this one, you know of the gossip that is surrounding him dear sister,” Benedict states.

“Yes dear brothers, if there is one thing in this family that you have taught me to be is to be wary of all of the Lannisters. Except for my dear friend Lord Tyrion I hope,” I say. 

“Not to mention the salacious scandal that the Kingslayer has with his oh so dear sister, Lady Ceresei,” Eloise mocks. Me and Hyacinth snort behind our hands in response. 

“That is exactly the reason why we don’t want you to hang out too much around ‘The Kingslayer’’ Anthony spits out the last part.

“Then why are we even going to visit the Lannisters then if all we are going to be doing is to bicker around them?” I inquire.

“Because there are some rather interesting bachelors that have promised their arrivals in Westeros that I am certain will be a great match for you,” my mother states reaching over to squeeze my hands in assurance.

“I hope you’re right mother,” I say, “But let’s hope my brothers won’t do too much meddling then.” 

“Oh I’ll make sure they don’t darling,” mother soothes me leaving my brothers with gaping mouths trying to argue back but was cut short with our arrival at Lannisters’ ballroom.

We all made our ways out of the carriage with my mother and I being escorted by my brothers. As we entered the ballroom my ears were immediately greeted with beautiful orchestral music played by the band that the Lannisters hired were quite skillful. Benedict immediately led me into the first dance of the night so I was too occupied to catch a glance at all the handsome men in attendance. 

“Thank you for the dance, dear brother” I remarked with a curtsy. 

Benedict returns the curtsy with a bow as he says, “my pleasure”

Colin, Eloise, and Hyacinth comes over to us with Hyacinth saying, “Do you see who is in attendance (Y/N)?” 

“No, who?” I ask as I immediately glance around the room. As soon as I said it my brothers soon said, “On guard,” and immediately tried to disperse themselves.

“Too late, I already caught your eye,” a woman said. I turn to fully look and it’s the Lady of the House, Duchess Joanna of Westerlands.

I curtsied at her attention as did the rest of my siblings as we say, “Lady Joanna”

“Ah Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton I was hoping that you would come to visit me again. You know my dear son Tyrion remarks about how intelligent you are,” Duchess Joanna states.

“Your Grace flatters me, I merely have a good teacher is all,” you say.

“I wish you were as flattering to me to my face, my lovely student,” I hear a familiar voice say to me. Tyrion soon appears in my vision right next to his mother. 

“Is there a reason why I haven’t seen you on the dance floor, for I have heard and seen you are the brightest star this season,” Lady Joanna states.

Benedict stands a bit straighter as he hears her say that and states, “All in good time, Lady Joanna. One mustn't rush these matters.”

She raises her eyebrows at him then takes her leave away from them, as I take my leave to walk with my friend Lord Tyrion. 

“Oh dear me, (Y/N) you always seem to have your hands full with your guard dogs don’t you?” Tyrion teases me. 

I huffed as I reached for a glass of champagne, “Don’t I know it. I know my family says they’ll love me forever if I never get married but what of the rest of the world? I hardly wouldn’t want my family to be shunned simply because I am not desirable.”

“Now who would say that my dear, hmm? You are quite desirable simply on your looks alone, but coupled with that of your smart wits and sharp intelligence, you stand on equal footing with any man who even dares to look at you,” Tyrion expressed. 

“Oh if only that were true, but no man in today’s society would hardly want or look for a woman who can stand to attest to what he or his business has to say. Merely look at the fact that my brothers won’t even let any bachelors come near ten feet of me let alone get a word in,” I argued. 

“That I do agree with you on the count of your brothers, but to the argument of your abilities to be undesirable to men I do have to argue on that for if I was even close to an eligible match for you, you know I would propose to you but if a man comes to know that you are knowledgeable on all the great poets of our age and the classics, but are also quite fluent in the language of economics and business as well as just the languages of the Old Tongue, Dothraki and both levels of Valyrian my word all the men would be rushing to you as we speak. Also do not ever volley my teaching like that again, I am quite proud of what you have accomplished in my stead,” Tyrion lectured.

“I-Tyrion, thank you for those kind words, I will take into account my skills, because it does seem I need to seriously improve on my self-confidence so to speak,” I agreed.

We then fell into a comfortable silence of us standing on the edge of the dance floor with us sipping on the glasses of champagne that come to greet us, when a handsome man comes into view of me.

“Ah Duke of Dorne, what a surprise it is to see you after all this time,” Lannister greets the handsome stranger.

“It is good to see you again, old friend. I wanted to see how you have been holding up, seeing as your siblings have come back from the big city,” the Duke of Dorne says. 

“Ah well you know how they are, I’ve been trying to avoid their company as much as possible so I have been keeping busy with my studies along with my teachings,” Tyrion responds. 

“I’ve heard that you’ve become quite the scholar. I assume this is one of your students then?” the Duke of Dorne asks, glancing at me. 

My face immediately feels like it’s on fire just from his gaze alone. What is wrong with me? Has it really been so long that I forgot what a handsome man’s gaze felt like?

“Ah! This my dear friend and student, Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton of Honeyholt, Lady (Y/N) this is an old friend and classmate Duke Oberyn Martell of Dorne,” Tyrion introduces us both. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Duke Oberyn says as he takes my hand and kisses it. 

I curtsy in return as I say, “and I you, Duke”

“May I have a dance with you?” Duke Oberyn offers. 

“It would be my pleasure.” I accepted as I let him guide me to the dance floor.

A new song started to play as we entered the dance scene, and I was immediately taken by the beauty of the music and the strength that hides beneath the Duke’s clothes as he falls into the role of taking the lead in the dance. With his lead, dancing felt as natural as breathing to me, and I got so taken by the charm of his onyx eyes and the scruffy facial hair as he gracefully takes the lead on the waltz we started together.

This particular waltz I knew so well by now because of my brothers and my own learning of it, but to dance it with him, it was enchanting and I became mesmerized with our own beating hearts becoming intertwined with each other and the music. 

Then as soon as the dance started, it ended and we both dutifully took our bows and thanked each other for the dance as we began to walk back to our places. As soon as we do so, the Duke is still standing by me when my brothers almost tackle me with how fast they were coming towards me.

“What are you doing near my sister?” Benedict demands. 

“You are not to be near our sister, Viper,” Colin reprimands.

I jump between the Duke and my brothers as I object, “What is the meaning of this, brothers? The Duke of Dorne had graciously asked for my hand in a dance and I accepted, had I known that you would be so up in arms on me wanting to dance I would’ve looked for him earlier.”

The Duke turned his head to try to hide his smirk at my comment but I saw it at the corner of my eye. 

“You see dear sister, he has quite the reputation of being a rake around the molly houses of Westeros,” Benedict explains. (Molly houses is a word for brothels in regency era which has both male and female prostitutes, and rake is basically a womanizer used for male protagonists in romance novels of the time)

“What is so wrong with that? From what I’ve heard our dear Kingslayer has been rumored around molly as well, and what is the point of this information I doubt he has any intention on taking me there,” I rebutted. 

“I thank you for your kind argument for my reputation but I must apologize to your brothers here because they think that I have an intention on taking your flower before courting you. I apologize to you both, however I will not apologize to the fact that I am very much looking forward to courting you in the near future. From what I’ve heard from Lord Tyrion and now your brothers, it seems you are quite the Incomparable,” the Duke states. 

“You flatter me sir,” I bow my head to him.

“I am very much looking forward to seeing you in the near future Lady Bridgerton, please think of my proposal?” the Duke insists as he takes my hand and kisses the palm of my hand as a way of goodbye. 

I blushed at the small gesture of his all the way back home. However as soon as we got to our home, things were soon broken into chaos with my brothers surrounding me asking how I managed to get the attention of the Red Viper of Dorne.

He was apparently quite well known in the boxing circles of both the Westerlands and Dorne, but equally well known was his pernicious nature with that of the ladies of the night surrounding Westeros and the Reach. 

“I don’t know what you all are rambling about. Have you not opened your eyes when the two were dancing? The Duke and her were very much smitten with each other and were not looking at anyone else when in each other’s company. Also I can think of many ill-fitting matches that could be worse then for your dear sister to be paired with a duke,” my mother rebutted. 

I grinned in victory at hearing my mother’s words knowing we won that round against my protective brothers.

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Three days laters we were in the drawing room with me practicing my piano skills, and everyone was casually doing their own activities. Hyacinth was reading her favorite book, Eloise was writing, Benedict and Colin was playing chess, and mother was listening to me playing. Anthony was in the study deeper in the estate most likely taking care of the finances of the business and estate. 

A butler came in and announced, “Lady (Y/N) we have a bouquet here for you.”

I jumped out of my seat at the piano along with my mother, we both exchanged excited looks at who could’ve brought me flowers. What arrived was a beautiful large arrangement of red, pink and orange honeysuckles, tulips, and bachelor’s buttons. They were beautiful, I gasped when they were placed on an end table in the drawing room, they were even placed in a beautiful crystal vase. I went towards them and smelled them, when I realized what they all meant: declaration of love and hope. 

As soon as I was taking in the splendor of the bouquet I saw the letter placed next to the vase. I opened it and the letter read:

To the lovely Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton of Honeyholt,

You have quite literally and wholeheartedly enraptured my heart and mind with thoughts of you. I know it may seem like I am making haste with putting my thoughts in letters and ink, but I hope you may like that sort of thing. I am hopeful to see you in the dance of the season to arrive and for you to reserve a dance for me if you so can. I hope your brothers may allow me to accompany you in this way. May the gods and you bless me with your company. I wish you and your family good health and wealth for the rest of your days.

Sincerely and Earnestly, 

Duke Oberyn Martell of Dorne

“Oh mother, come look it’s from the Duke of Dorne, read this letter it's so thoughtful,” I gush as I hand her the letter. 

My mother gasps and reaches the letter from my hand, and as she reads from my periphery I see my brothers whisper to one another from their couch and I see Colin leave while Benedict stays.

“This is wonderful news! It’s only been half a week in this season, and it seems like you’ve already found yourself a suitor, my dear,” mother said.

“It’s all thanks to you mama, my wonderful wit and looks must’ve charmed him and I got them all from you,” I replied. We then looked at each other and bursted out laughing, hugging each other as we giggled at the letter and bouquet. 

“Do you really think he likes me though? Because I have heard what my brothers said about him and they went to the Academy together,” I said suddenly. 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, you two are about to begin a beautiful courtship I can sense it,” my mother assured me.

“What is going on here?” I hear Anthony stomp over in the room.

“It seems like your sister charmed the Duke of Dorne,” mother explains.

Anthony grabs the letter from the end table and reads it, he hands it over to Colin and Benedict to read, who then turns just as angry as Anthony.

“This is ridiculous, don’t you think he’s going a bit too far and fast with this, mother?” Anthony questioned.

“Well sure it may seem a bit fast but it’s not like he asked for her hand in marriage yet, it’s the start of a courtship, have you seen the flowers he sent her?” my mother reasoned.

“Expensive ones,” I jumped in. 

Anthony glared at me for a moment but then returned to his normal posture as he then gestured to all three of him, Colin, and Benedict as he says, “Just know that we are only looking out for you sister, and if he even dares to touch a hair on your head without your consent, just give the word and we will fight him for you.”

Benedict and Colin nod in agreement but I scoff and replied, “Three against one, seems hardly fair does it?”

“It does when it accounts towards the family honor,” Benedict says. 

I just huffed at that and grabbed the letter from their hands and replied, “Well I think his charming, but if you can think of a better match than him I am all ears, however for now you will to be contempt with the fact your sister is in the dating season in Westeros and I hope you three can wrap your heads around that.”

With that I kiss my mother on the cheek as I bid my farewell to the rest of them as I take my leave to my bedroom where I laid on my bed clutching the letter to my chest. I laid there motionlessly for a minute before a smile spread across my face at the thought of Oberyn Martell writing the letter and handing the flowers himself. 

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The time has arrived for my family and I to arrive at the next gathering, which is to be hosted by the Tyrells this time. The House of Tyrell is known for their lavish spending on the decorations and music, the only family that comes close to their lavish spending are the Lannisters. Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden is rarely seen during the parties rather he has a much permanent stay over at the King’s Palace, as he is the King’s most renowned advisor, however the Lady of the House, Lady Alerie Hightower has a graceful demeanor and peaceful aura that one hopes they can be graced with in their lifetime. 

We all gathered into the carriage together when we were all dressed and ready to go, with Anthony being the last to arrive. Mother and I sat next to each other giggling to ourselves and clutching each other’s arms thinking about Oberyn. My brothers sat across from us sulking with their arms crossed, probably scheming about ways to get me away from Oberyn. 

The carriage stopped and the rider signaled us that we have arrived at the Tyrell estate at Highgarden. The estate is beautiful with the castle stretching for miles on either side of the front entrance, with the renowned beautiful rose gardens stretching around the landscape of the castle. It was beautiful, as to be expected of the Tyrells.

We entered the ballroom in which the party is primarily at, and I soon saw Tyrion talking to the hosts of the party, Lady Alerie and her daughter Lady Margery. They both are the belles of the ball tonight, it was also seen as Lady Margery’s debut into the social season, we haven’t talked much so I can’t really say anything about her character. 

Tyrion sees me and waves me over so I do with my mother in tow, we come to greet him and the hosts.

“Lady Alerie, Lady Margery, we are grateful for your invitation,” my mother greets her as we both curtsy in greeting.

I turn to Margery and say, “you look absolutely beautiful this day, might I add the color green really takes to you.”

“Why, I am quite flattered to hear that because from what I heard around the town, you are the Incomparable this season,” Lady Margery remarks.

“It is quite true, even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she is the best student I ever had,” Tyrion says for me. 

“Who cares for me when I heard that a certain prince caught your eye?” I question. 

Margery blushes under the question and Tyrion raised his eyebrows at me in response. Before anyone can further the conversation I heard the band begin to play the first song of the ball. Lady Margery excuses herself as she readies herself to be asked on the dance floor. Within the first verse she did get asked by a handsome bachelor. 

The prince in question was Prince Joffrey Baratheon, he was being groomed to take the role of King of Westeros quite soon, however room speculates about how prepared he may be. In the eyes of high society he was supposed to debut as a bachelor if he was anyone else, but he is the Platinum Prince as people liked to call him. Tyrion likes to call him the Plastic Bastard behind closed doors.

My mother soon takes off as she told me that she was going to try to fend off my brothers from scaring off any suitors my way which I thank her for. 

“So you are hearing things about that loathsome child?” Tyrion questions in a hushed tone. 

“Quite, but don’t worry it’s all gossip, it seems like Lady Margery is getting favors from Prince Joffrey. He seems to be quite adamant that he has found her princess, however the Queen might feel about it,” I state as I watch the dancing. 

“That is quite the speculation, but it does appear you are right, because Lady Alerie seems to think that this debut was only to announce that Lady Margery has come of age into the social season, because it seems like Lady Alerie already picked out and secured a quite permanent suitor for her daughter,” Tyrion speculated with a sip from his glass. 

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if the prince came here uninvited to try and win the people’s hearts with a grand spectacle. How the royal family do like their toys,” Tyrion continued.

“Bite your tongue Lannister, I don’t want to lose a friend simply due to gossip,” I paused then leaned down to whisper to him, “But you are quite right about the toys. It would be a shame if the prince realized he was also a pawn to the Queen’s game as well.”

“Aren’t we all,” Tyrion muttered. We both glanced at each other and shared a smile at that, we clink our glasses together as we drink with smiles on our faces.

“I see you two are together often,” I hear a voice approach us. 

I turned and saw the Duke of Dorne smiling at us, in a very catching navy blue, and golden yellow suit with a dappled blue ascot tied and tucked around his neck. His olive skin seems to glow from the ensemble, and I start to blush at how intense his gaze was at me.

“You see, your grace, it’s merely a ruse so my brothers aren’t as intense at protecting me, they don’t see Lord Tyrion as a threat, so I am able to breathe freely from such scrutiny,” I say with a conspiratory smile on my face.

Tyrion pretends to gasp as he clutches imaginatory pearls around his neck.

“My word, Lady (Y/N) if only your guard dogs can hear you now,” Tyrion states.

We both laugh at that while the Duke has a huge grin on his face, watching us.

“Well now that I know the truth, may I have this dance, I do believe they are about to start the Cotillion Dance if you care to join me?” the Duke offered with his hand out.

“I would be honored, Lord Martell,” I say cautiously as I take his hand and he leads me to the dance floor. 

The music begins and we all stand in formation at the start of the dance, then the dancing commenced. The man of course led this dance as well, and from our first dance together I took well under his lead in the dance. It felt like we were gliding on the dance floor with us twirling and spinning around each other, but I felt safe and confident as we danced together. I felt beautiful and radiant, I looked into the Duke’s eyes and it felt like he had his eyes on me the whole time. The Cotillion ended as we took our bows and he led me off the dance floor.

We found a corner of the ballroom as he took me there, and he began to speak.

“So, I was wondering and I know this might be too soon after our second dance but I would like to propose something to you,” the Duke began.

“Yes?” I urged.

“Well, I would like to begin a courtship with you,” the Duke says.

I let out a startled laugh at that as I immediately put my hand on my mouth at that, I grew hot with embarrassment almost immediately.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but you see my brothers are quite adamant at protecting me and if they heard you propose that to me, they would all beat you to a pulp. They also seemed to warn me against you as well I might add,” I warned him.

He quirked his eyebrow as he heard me which he then replied, “I wonder what those warnings might be? Is it that I am a rake? Or is it that I had frequented brothels?”

“There was that, but also that you are a bit of a brute,” I added.

He gave a quiet laugh at that as he shook his head and then let out an exhale. I gave him a soft smack to his torso as I reprimanded, “Don’t laugh! So tell me is it true then? Should I be cautious of you then?”

He gave a dramatic pause as he gave a thoughtful stroke to his facial hair and he looked up to the ceiling as if in quiet deliberation.

“Well all those rumors used to be true a couple months ago, I was quite rebellious towards my family affairs and myself I suppose. I didn’t want to take responsibility quite yet,” he said.

“Well what changed?” I inquired.

“Well to put it quite simply, my older brother, he has his own state of affairs with his own estate at Godsgrace and with our sister Elia passing away so suddenly from influenza we were both stricken with grief,” he pauses as if in reflection.

I nod in understanding, I put my hand on his as I squeezed it in reassurance waiting for him to continue talking. 

After a moment of soft silence between us as the music and society dances around us, we were caught up in each other, in this moment. 

“Well, I suppose that brought things in perspective for both of us, let’s say. I know she loved us until the very end of her life, but I suppose that grief has left me stricken to try and chase anything that made me feel something other than grief and molly houses, duels, boxing, and fencing were all things that did,” he seemed to emphasize the past tense in his sentence.

“Well I am sure if she saw you now, she would not blame you for what you have done. Grief does strange and terrible things to us all. I was similar to you as my papa had just recently passed away this past year, I had locked myself away in my room and not talked to anyone except my mama and even then it was short sentences. They loved each other dearly, my parents,” I explain.

“What got you through the grief?” he asked.

I paused in thought then answered, “Well to be honest, there will always be an ache in my heart for him but what got me through in acceptance was my family and the world outside my window. Nature allowed me to relapse in my head and to just breathe fresh air without thinking of my father, my family, businesses or anything else. It allowed me for a moment to collapse and I think I needed that.”

“You are quite wise for someone so young,” the Duke remarked.

“Well three older brothers and two younger siblings someone ought to be,” I answered.

He smiles at my comment and then replies, “Well I think that does it for our serious conversation. Would you like another dance, my lady?”

“Why I would be happy to, sir.” 

The next dance was led by a bright happy tune and we instantly knew the dance was to be of a country dance. We beamed at each other as we both realized that, it was as if the band realized we needed a reprieve. The dance was filled with bouncing and skipping around the entire floor, and it led to us with bright smiles on each other’s faces as we continued to stare at each other throughout the whole dance. From the corner of my eye I saw my brothers with concerned expressions as they saw me dancing with the Duke, and I also saw my mother and Tyrion both smiling at us. 

“It seems like we have fans,” the Duke whispered to me. 

“And critics,” I added, which made both of us lean back a little and let out a small laugh. 

“I assure you that the criticisms that your brothers may have me are of past consequence,” he tells me. 

“Oh I’m quite confident in that,” I say.

The dance then ended with us as routine in society, we take our bows and he leads off the dance floor. Which we were then greeted with three angry faces and two smiling ones. 

“What are you doing with him, (Y/N)?” Anthony questioned.

“Well I'm having a lovely time, if you must know, brother,” I answered.

“I was also going to ask you something before your family came over,” Oberyn says.

“Oh what is it?” I asked.

“Since we have twice tonight, and from our conversations I would like to make our courtship public and to get approval from your family,” Oberyn announces. (In regency era, if a lady dances only with one man,  especially twice in one night, it is seen as either she is “easy” or she is engaged to that man) 

“How da-” Anthony started. 

“Wonderful,” my mother finished as she elbowed Anthony.

“It seems you have taken fascination with my student, eh Red Viper?” Tyrion asks.

“I sincerely have, and I want to make this an amazing courtship, I know that your family is known for honeyed alcohol but what of sweets? There is an amazing cafe that I would love to take you sometime this week,” Oberyn offered.

“I would love to, Duke” I answered.

“You could take her this weekend, that’s two days away, I’m sure you can take her then,” my mother responds.

“That sounds wonderful,” Oberyn answered.

“Then it’s settled, I can’t wait to see you that day. Well I think we’ll take our leave then,” I say and my mother reached for my arm and we were escorted home leaving Oberyn and my brothers to their own disposal.

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Two days have passed with relative ease even though all three brothers have badgered my ear off with the countless requests to put Duke Oberyn in his place by way of a duel, which I vehemently denied. My sisters have taken to making fun of me for being so enchanted by the Duke of Dorne, and it seems the only person who was my confidante in this new relationship was my mother. 

The clock in the drawing room has struck 12 o’clock meaning that it was time for me to be heading out towards the main town in the Reach which was only 30 minutes away from our estate by foot, so it was easy for me. I took to wearing my riding boots and my favorite dress and wearing my hair in a simple updo fashion, well as simple as one can make it with the fashion trends these days. 

I ended up making it to the main road of the town in enough time that I was allowed to stroll around the town window shopping, until I heard my name being called.

“Lady Bridgerton, there you are,” I heard a familiar voice call out.

I turned to see the Duke of Dorne walking my way to me with a lazy grin etched on his face, which got me to smile back at him.

“Why hello Lord Martell,” I say as I do a small curtsy to him. 

When he fully approached me he presented his hand to me and as I took it he said, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I grinned at him.

We made our way to a small cafe that he was adamant that was amazing about their sweets and pastries that they are known for. We found ourselves at a corner of the shop sitting on opposite sides of the table. He ordered for the both of you when it came to that, because he insisted that there were some things that he simply must do for me and to trust him.

I huffed and playfully glared at him as we got our treats in order for us., and he returned my glare with a stare of his own. A smirk plays across his features as he takes a dip into a lemon custard that he got, wrapping his tongue around the spoon. 

I inhaled sharply as I watched and I got flustered when he caught my eye, I hurried myself with drinking my hot chocolate that I got. I saw his expression become bemused at what he saw me doing from my periphery, and I tried to shake my head of the thoughts that were swirling in my head. 

“So, I was thinking…”

“Oh a dangerous activity indeed,” I teased.

“Hush, I was merely about to ask, what are some things that you would like to do while we are courting, because I would like this to be a worthwhile endeavor for the both of and make this the best courtship for you”

“Well, that’s rather kind of you, but I am sure you are aware that I have not courted anyone at all, and to be quite honest with you I don’t know a thing about courting. Sure I know mannerisms and what to say as well, but what goes beyond that? I simply don’t know. My brothers won’t tell me a thing, and my mother won’t tell me a thing about it.”

“Hmm, well we’ll take it slow then, okay? If I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or strange tell me, hmm? I have every intention of making you my wife, so let’s get to know each other during this courting period and don’t worry about not knowing certain things about life because from what I heard you are quite the scholar,” Oberyn responds to my rant.

“Well I try to be, I would love to be a writer one day but that is off limits in today’s society, I’m afraid, so I make do with learning as much as I can with the limited options I am able to. Lord Tyrion makes an excellent teacher, whenever he is not professing his love for alcohol or gossiping about the royals,” I let out.

“Lord Tyrion is quite the conversationalist and wine tester, he knows about everyone and everyone’s cousins, unlike his siblings people have no problem extending an invitation his way. Now, what is your favorite thing that you like to learn? There has to be something that you enjoy out of all your lessons,” he asks.

“Well, I do enjoy painting, and I’m rather indifferent towards my sewing lessons which I suppose is mandatory, but I also deeply enjoy playing music. Painting and music are something I am deeply in love with, I love to go to the Opera theater in town. The touring groups that play there are almost always amazing. I also love going to the art galleries whenever they have a new exhibit to display,” I respond. 

“I heard there was going to be a new exhibit opening up in a few days from now, I’m bringing my sister’s favorite painting to be displayed there,” Oberyn states.

“I will be there, I got an invitation from Lady Joanna to be there actually, I’m sure she just wants to keep an eye on me, “ I say.

“Who wouldn’t want to keep an eye on the diamond of the season?” Oberyn questions.

“I hate that people are calling me, as well as the Incomparable? What am I that the other women are not?” 

“Well I am not sure how to put it, but you surely have captivated me, and it seems like your focus and intellect has in fact enraptured all that talk to you,” Oberyn assured me.

“I surely hope not, for there are some that I would happy to never come near me again,” I state.

“Oh? And who would that be? You surely couldn’t be talking about the Kingslayer or the Prince?” 

“You listen to about as much gossip as my mother, I swear.”

“Well is the gossip wrong?”

“No, not exactly but even if I was interested in them, I doubt that my brothers would even think about letting them breathe in my general direction.”

Oberyn laughs at that.

“Well, then I shall count my blessings that I allowed to still be alive so I may take in your beauty,” Oberyn flatters.

“You already got an outing with me, I hardly think you need to do anymore flattering, Duke,” I respond.

“Hmmmm, I think if we were to continue this courtship I think it would only be fair if you would call me by my first name?” Oberyn insists.

I got flustered by his sudden request but then I went to say, “Of course, only if you do the same.”

He raises his eyebrows at me and had a light smile on his face as he says, “Well of course it’s only fair, (Y/N)”

“Oberyn”

“How sweet it is to hear my name from a lovely flower,” Oberyn compliments.

“Well I think that’s enough pandering today, I am sure you must have more important business then just hanging out with me all day,” I say as I brush my dress and start to stand up.

“Oh there is no more important business then spending time with you, honeybee,” he comments and he winks at me when he calls me that new nickname.

My face got hot with that new nickname as I tried to make my way out of the cafe with Oberyn hot on my trail. He suddenly pulled me aside into a walkway that was a clearing in a park that I hadn’t fully noticed before. 

“What? Oberyn? Where are you taking me? I thought we were just heading back,” I questioned him.

“You didn’t think that I would want to part with you so soon, honeybee?” Oberyn asks in return as he spins back to face me.

“I assumed so, my brothers make a point to make sure there are no suitors within an arm’s length of me and I thought you would be the same yet you keep coming back. I thought you would be scared to come near because of my family,” I admitted.

“Ah well, I know how my family is, I am lucky that I was able to grow an estate of my own because my elder brother is the viscount of our family estate and he can be a pain on trying to get me a wife and my personal schedule in general, so believe me when I say I understand siblings. Maybe, not to the extent of your family but to an extent,” He explains.

“Well that explains some of it, I suppose,” I replied.

We were walking side by side at this point and I noticed the sun was just about to set and I realized that we were out together for at least 4 hours, and I was starting to worry what my brothers would think. 

After a few moments in silence Oberyn breaks it as he asks, “I just want to ask, why are you so hesitant about this relationship? Is it truly just because of your brothers that you are not willing to enter this relationship or is it something else entirely?”

“It is mostly because I am afraid Oberyn,” I tell him.

We now stood in front of a beautiful ficus tree with its branches spread all in different directions but the leaves always reaching towards the sun. I turn my focus on studying this tree instead of looking at him, embarrassed for admitting my fear. For I want to love him with my whole being already but scared of the novelty of it. 

Oberyn hummed in thought as he heard my fear and after a moment of silence he spoke up, “Well then we shall take it slow, as slow as we can in this season anyway. The gods know how the Queen loves a good wedding.” 

I turned to him and I smiled softly at how gently he spoke. “Thank you Oberyn then I will see you at the gallery then,” I say to him.

“Yes you shall, now let’s get you back before your brothers come looking for us and to take my head.”

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The days seem to blur as I wait in anticipation for my next meeting with Oberyn, it has been less than a week since we have started courting but I am already infatuated with the man. Relationships have started off with less in these times, right? I mean Countess Daneryes had an arranged marriage with Count Drogo, they seem happy enough from the little times they do make a public appearance but I can only imagine if things were to have been worse.

During the few days between my dates with Oberyn, I had been pressured to practice my music skills more, as my mother thinks that a Duchess should know the masterpieces of the piano. I just hope one day I’d have the liberties to be able to compose my own piece on the piano.

Benedict had recently taken art classes, Colin also started taking fencing lessons, and Anthony has been Anthony. When I announced that I would be attending the new painting gallery, Benedict showed his interest in escorting me there as well as wanting to see the new art in general. With that settled, Colin and Anthony begrudgingly said that they’ll let me go on my own with Benedict. My mother seemed equally as excited as I am about the art gallery, because I have talked to her about Oberyn and she approves of the relationship.

Benedict and I went off to the gallery once we were already ready to go. We stepped foot in the carriage and off we went to the main city’s art gallery. The ride went quickly and rather quietly as well, but I didn’t pay any mind to the silence. I was just excited to see Oberyn again. 

We arrived at the gallery, and once we stepped inside I was absolutely mesmerized by the decor and ambience of the entire place. The paintings were displayed in front of a beautiful burgundy backdrop all throughout the place. My brother and I bid our farewells to each other as we went to go look at the different paintings. 

I explored and looked at the different types of paintings that were displayed around the gallery.

“Well if it isn’t Lady Bridgerton, how very nice to see you,” I heard a voice coming up to me. 

I looked to my right to see Duchess Joanna, I bowed my head towards her and gave her a polite greeting as well.

“I’m glad to see you got my invitation well, how is your relationship going with Duke Oberyn?” Duchess Joanna asked. 

“I think it’s going well, at least I hope so,” I respond.

“So when do-” 

“Ah Duchess Joanna, how good to see you here. I want to thank you for extending an invitation and for me to display my family’s paintings here,” I hear a familiar voice interrupt.

I tilt my head to Oberyn as he made his appearance between the Duchess and I, it seems he must’ve heard the conversation and wanted to circumvent the question the Duchess was about to ask.

“Of course, and I see you have found each other so I will be taking my leave,” Lady Joanna says and with that she walks off.

Oberyn turns to you and as you meet each other’s eyes you both smiled.

“It seems that you were about to meet a very uncomfortable question with Lady Joanna,” Oberyn began.

“So you decided to intervene then? Ah, my hero,” you stated. 

The smiles never faded from either of your faces as you two began to walk around the gallery. When you were passing by an entry to a hallway of another gallery, Oberyn nodded towards it and guided you to walk through it, and when you got there you were amazed by the two pieces adorned on either side of the wall. 

The first one we saw was on all accounts a technical masterpiece, but as I was looking at it all I felt was cold calculating movements and techniques that are being taught today. The second one however was of a landscape, and it looked like it was of Dorne, there was a familiarity to it and a warmth surrounding the piece that I felt like I was home already.

“So what do you think?” Oberyn asks.

“Well, the first one felt frigid like it was only made to be appraised for its techniques and nothing else. However this one, this one, felt so warm, so comforting, it feels like hiraeth,” you say as you turn to him. 

He hums in acknowledgement and looks at you with a small smile on his face.

“This was my sister’s favorite, and behind was our father’s commission piece, I think you spoke well on the differences here. I feel the same, I began to feel that this was my favorite as well, after she died. What is hiraeth? I’ve never heard that word before,” Oberyn responded.

“It means to be homesick for a home that never existed,” I answered.

Oberyn nodded in acknowledgement and we both turned to the painting again, looking at the beautiful image in front of us. The distant voices of the rest of the guests slowly faded away as we continued to stand almost shoulder to shoulder with each other. I felt a pull towards him, I wanted to hold his hand so badly, it was strange, but did he feel the same? I glanced quickly to see our hands reaching for each other and we felt our fingertips touch. As soon as we felt them we heard a loud crash. With that loud crash, our little microcosm came crashing down with that sound. 

We turned to the source of the sound and we were greeted with the sight of my brother Benedict sliding on the floor and met my eyes. 

“Ah there you two are, I was wondering where you ran off to,” Benedict states.

“Like I didn’t see you running off to see your mentor just in time to avoid Lady Joanna,” I bounced back at him.

“That doesn’t prove anything, dear sister, and anyway we should be getting back, I should escort you back to the house, even if you do have a suitor now,” Benedict eyed Oberyn as he spoke.

“I hope to see you soon, maybe we shall go for a picnic?” Oberyn asks you.

“Speaking of picnics, well not really, how would you want to come to dinner one day? Our mother seems keen on meeting you properly, you know my brothers, and my precious little sister, but pray my mother, so here is an invitation for you to come over tomorrow. Don’t worry, mother knows about it (Y/N),” Benedict interrupts.

I just gaped at him as I heard him talk, I knew my mother wanted to talk to Oberyn, but have him over for dinner? Isn’t that a bit much? I turn to Oberyn, I see he had a lazy grin stretched across his face.

“Well, how can I say no to such an invitation,” Oberyn lamented and he claps his hands together looking between the three of you with a smile on his face.

With that you all started to head back into the thrums of the gathering in the gallery, as Benedict walked ahead you walked a bit slower with Oberyn.

“I am eager, adamant and sincere about this relationship, honeybee, and I hope you and your family see it that way as well,” Oberyn tells you.

“Oberyn, you make my heart burn with such sweetness that you say to me, and if you keep that up I’m sure my mother will fall under your charm as well,” I murmured to him.

After that my brother and I said our farewells to the appropriate guests and we headed our way back home.

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

News has reached all of my brothers and sisters about how Duke Oberyn has finally decided to make an appearance to the Bridgerton estate, which got my sisters and mother very excited about this new man coming to visit that wasn’t family.

My brother, Anthony, seemed to be brooding the most about this new development, which I could’ve seen coming from a mile away. Colin and Benedict were taking it better then expected except now they have decided would be an excellent time to warn me against Oberyn even more vehemently before. I still don’t understand why my brothers are so against this, I like him, isn’t that enough? Or is it because they were friends in the same academy? 

The preparations have made for the table and the maids and butlers have made sure that everything is pristine in the household, and as the time ticks down for Oberyn to arrive, I’ve become increasingly more worried that something might go wrong. 

Then once the hour arrived, we got word that Oberyn had arrived and we all got ready to greet him. Oberyn walked into the drawing room where we all were loitering, Hyacinth and Eloise were reading and embroidering, I was talking to my mother, and the three brothers were all talking amongst each other. Once we were aware of his presence we all said our polite greetings, with my mother going straight away to compliment him which Oberyn took and reflected back to her.

We all made our way to the dining table where the food was already present on the table, as we all took our seats Oberyn moved his way to me and sat down with me.

Then dinner began and with that our usual chaotic family conversation began. Hyacinth refusing to eat her vegetables, Eloise teasing her, Benedict and Colin teasing each other and shoving each other at the table and my mother chastising every one of them. 

Oberyn leans to whisper to me, “I didn’t know family meals could be so entertaining.”

“Oh you should see them during the holidays, they’re entertainment all by themselves,” I whisper back. 

I look up and see Anthony glaring at us, I turn back to Oberyn and asked him, “Why is Anthony so opposed to our relationship?”

“He’s your brother, ask him,” Oberyn answered.

“And he’s your friend, plus he won’t talk to me no matter how many times I ask,” I pressured him,

“I think it’s all about my past, I normally wouldn’t have seen myself with a longtime commitment but with you I do, and I think your brother is having difficulty realizing that I grew out of my adolescence,” he answered.

I nod and smile at him in understanding, I reach for his hand under the table and squeeze it in reassurance, which in turn made him smile at me.

“Well, Duke, I have seen and heard that you have become quite attached with my dear daughter,” my mother spoke up.

Oberyn straightens his back in his chair and he replies, “I am very much attached with her, Lady Violet. I’ve come to nickname her honeybee.” 

“Did you allow him to call you this?” Anthony glared.

“Yes I did, brother, and he allowed me to just say his first name as well, I do hope you realize that we are sincere about each other,” I replied.

Anthony sighed while mother gave me a soft smile in return, and I looked to see Oberyn beaming at me.

“Well, Duke, I do hope to see you marry her before the season ends, it’d be a shame to see this season go to waste,” my mother pestered.

“Mother,” I warned her and all I got in return was a confused look from my mother.

“I have every plans on doing so actually, I hope for every one of you to see how sincere and earnest I am with your daughter,” he turns to me and takes my hand and he kisses it lightly, “she has me so under her spell, she has me bewitched body and soul, and I am not sure how any marriage proposal would befit how she has me feel.”

I felt my whole body flush with heat and tears pricked my eyes at the praises and endearments he was giving me. He was ethereal, otherworldly, with how he treated me and I swear to the old gods that if that wasn’t his marriage proposal then-

“Well I think that was as good of a marriage proposal as any,” Hyacinth quipped from the other side of the table. 

Oberyn’s face turned as red as the roses set on the table. I see from the corner of my eye my mother nods to Oberyn and he takes a deep breath. He stands up and kneels before me with both of my hands in his and what I saw in his eyes made it click in my head what was happening.

“(Y/N), my honeybee, we may have known each other for two months and started courting for half of that time, but I already know in my heart of hearts that you own my everything already. Whenever we part I am always thinking of our next meeting, and I may have already talked to your mother about this, and I want you to make me the luckiest man in all of the world, and let me call you my wife as I am already yours fully, so you can call me husband. So will you marry me?”

Tears flowed down my face as I slid off my chair to cling onto him tightly as I said, “Yes, a thousand times yes, I will marry you Oberyn Martell, I love you so much.”

“As I do you, my love, I love you too,” he whispers to me as he caresses my head. 

Applaud littered the dining hall with my family congratulating us as well as the staff on our new engagement. As we stood in this new feeling, I reveled in it and I felt elated, like I was floating and I couldn’t get down even if I wanted to. 

I looked at Oberyn and he looked at me with such love and adoration that I knew I made the right choice. I found the love of my life and I found it in him.

#oberyn x reader #Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell x reader #the red viper #game of thrones #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #midnight post #sorry i had to get this out here #bridgerton inspired #bridgerton #bridgerton au #regency era au #au

[karahalloway]

(Un)Common Attraction: Chapter 2 - Destination Unknown

Series: TRR (following the events of Book 1, with some changes)

Pairing: Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)

Rights belong to Pixelberry, most characters and some dialogue belong to them.

Book Synopsis: Harper Gale is a small-town girl working as a waitress at a seedy New York dive bar. After a chance encounter with nobility sees her jetting halfway around the world to compete for the hand of the Prince of Cordonia, her dream of seeing the world starts to come true sooner than she expected. But as the completion heats up, Harper quickly learns that life at court is a lot more than just pretty dresses and fancy balls, and that the polished aristocratic smiles often hide deceit. Does she have what it takes to rise above the gossip and intrigue of the social season, and beat the nobles at their own games? And, more importantly, does she actually want to become the queen of a small European country? Or will her heart have other ideas?

Masterlist: (Un)Common Attraction

Chapter Summary: Harper receives an unexpected proposal and decides to take a leap of faith. But not everyone is happy with her decision...

Word Count: 4,200

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing)

Chapter Theme Song: 

Bonus Material: Postcards from Cordonia

Please read: Author’s Note

Also available on Wattpad.

Chapter 2 - Destination Unknown

The next day, I'm on my way to work the lunch shift when I hear pounding footsteps behind me.

"Harper!" shouts a vaguely familiar voice.

Turning around, I see the tall guy from last night - Maxwell, I think - round the corner and stop in front of me, panting from the exertion.

"Glad I caught you!"

"Oh? Is something wrong? I thought you guys were flying back to Cordonia today."

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, no." Maxwell runs his hand through his light brown hair, looking sheepish. "Right. Start again. No, nothing is wrong, and yes, we are flying back to Cordonia today. It's the start of the social season in a few days' time..."

"Yeah, Christian mentioned some kind of ball that he needs to get back in time for."

"Right. And since Christian also needs to find someone to marry so he can be king and all that jazz, I wanted to officially extend you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia."

My mouth drops. “Wait. What...?"

"Normally, you wouldn't be allowed to attend," he continues, as if I hadn't spoken, "but I wanted to sponsor you!"

He's beaming at me like a puppy that has finally caught its tail, waiting no doubt for an ecstatic response.

All I can manage is to gape at him like a goldfish. Finally, I splutter, "What do you mean ‘sponsor’ me?"

Completely unphased by my obvious lack of comprehension, Maxwell explains, "This year, all the noble houses will be putting forward their eligible ladies in the hopes that one of them will become Christian's fiancée. I'm from a noble house as well, though we don't have any young women who we could put in the running. But..." he pauses meaningfully, "we can sponsor someone of our choice from outside the family. And I choose you, Pikachu!"

"You can't be serious..."

"Oh, I've never been more serious in my entire life!" he declares. "So? What do you say?"

"So, let me get this straight..." I say, pinching the bridge of my nose to make sure that I was definitely awake, and Maxwell was not some kind of strange hallucination conjured up by my sleep-deprived brain. "You want me to go to Cordonia with you..."

"Yup."

"Today..."

"That's right."

"So, you can sponsor me..."

"You got it."

"...to represent your house in what sounds like Cordonia's version of The Bachelor."

"The bachelor being Christian," corrects Maxwell.

I squint up at him. "You don't know what The Bachelor is, do you?"

"The bachelor is not Christian?"

"No. It's an American reality TV show, where shallow women vie in completely unrealistic competitions to win the hand of a rich bachelor."

"Hmm... you're right, the two do sound like they have a lot in common," he admits thoughtfully. "So, what will it be? Romantic European adventure complete with fancy balls and a handsome prince, or staying here and waiting tables at a dingy restaurant with a mean-looking boss?"

"How do I know that this isn't some kind of con? Or one of those stupid undercover gags?" I ask suspiciously. "I mean, I only met you guys last night... Do you seriously expect me to just drop everything and go jetting halfway around the world on your word? Whatever that's worth?"

"I can assure you that everything I have told you is 100% true," says Maxwell seriously. "But if you want proof, here's my card."

He pulls out a business card printed on expensive-looking paper. Taking it, I can see that his full name is Maxwell Percival Beaumont of House Beaumont. There is a foreign-looking phone number and an email address, along with literally every social media account known to mankind.

"This is supposed to convince me how, exactly?" I ask, handing the card back to him. "Anyone can have one of these printed up and they could pass themselves off as the Emperor of China, if they wanted to."

Maxwell shrugs. "I am not sure what else I can say to convince you that I am offering you a completely legitimate proposal, apart from maybe that sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. So, are you interested?"

"Okay, fine," I sigh. "Let's pretend for a second that I believe you. Why do you want to sponsor me? I'm just a nobody that you met last night purely by chance. You don't know anything about me either. Plus, aren't there lots of other eligible Cordonian women you could put forward?"

"Probably, but none of them have managed to intrigue Christian the way you did last night."

I blush involuntarily, remembering our intimate moment on the boat.

"But, I would be remiss if I did not admit that I'm not doing this just for you."

"Oh, here we go..." I mutter. "There's always a catch..."

"I saw how Christian looked at you last night at the restaurant, and then at the club. I have never seen him so carefree and so himself with a girl before. And honestly, I don't want him to lose that."

"Oh."

This was not what I expected...!

"But we barely know each other!” I protest. “How can you be so sure that this will work?"

"I don't, but I have a good feeling about it," replies Maxwell confidently, giving me a wink. "Leap of faith, remember? So, are you in or are you out? The plane leaves in an hour..."

"An hour?" I squeak. "You can't seriously expect me to—"

"Harper! What are you doing out there! Get in here and start the prep for lunch service!"

Turning around, I can see Jovan standing in the doorway of the restaurant, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask of disapproval.

Turning back to Maxwell, I say, "Give me a minute, will you?"

* * *

Exactly an hour later, and probably against my better judgement, I find myself sitting in a plush, toffee-coloured leather seat, fastening my seatbelt as the Beaumont family's jet taxis onto the runway.

After I had told Jovan — in very unlady-like terms — that I was quitting, I had hailed a cab and rushed back to my shared apartment with Maxwell in tow to pack a bag before racing over to Teterboro airport on the the other side of the Hudson.

During the drive, I’d sent off a bunch of hastily typed messages, telling my flatmates, my family, and Daniel that I was leaving town for a few weeks, so that they would not worry in case they were not able to get hold of me while I was gone. I was hoping that wherever we were going would take Visa, as I would not have time to convert any cash before our departure.

"Good-bye, New York," sighs Maxwell, gazing out the window wistfully as the plane rises above the city. "You will be missed..."

"This is really happening, isn't it?" I whisper, as I watch the iconic skyline disappear beneath the clouds.

The adrenaline that had been sustaining me since Maxwell's unexpected proposal was starting to wear off and was being replaced by a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe I should have thought this through... How could I have been so stupid!

Back at the restaurant, when I had heard Jovan's voice, I had made a split-second decision that I was not going back to that horrid place again, just so I could get shouted at and hassled by the grumpy manager and the ungrateful customers. Because even though I was under no illusion about the chances of Maxwell's little plan succeeding (i.e. no chance!), I had realised that this opportunity could be my ticket to travel and see the world. I had some money saved up — not as much as I would've liked — but if Maxwell's family was willing to sponsor me, then at least I would not be dipping into my savings while I was in Cordonia.

In addition, Maxwell was right — there had definitely been some kind of spark between Christian and me last night. And even though I wasn't sure whether I wanted to compete for the guy's hand, part of me was curious to find out where things could go between us. Not because he was a prince and I had ambitions of becoming a princess, but because he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. And in my experience, those came around about as often as a full solar eclipse.

But, even if it all went sideways, I console myself, at least I would get a great story out of the experience, and a launch pad in Europe from which to start my world tour.

"I can't believe Max roped you into his hare-brained scheme," grumbles Drake as he takes a consolatory gulp of his whiskey.

"My plan is brilliant!" declares Maxwell. "You saw how Christian was looking at her last night."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that it's going to be happily-ever-after..." Drake points out, quite correctly, I had to admit.

"Where is Christian?" I ask, looking around the plane. "You didn't leave him behind, did you?"

"He took an earlier flight with Tariq so he could help the King and Queen finalise the preparations for the Masquerade Ball," replies Drake, giving me a look that says, You're WAY out of your league, sister.

Ignoring Drake, I turn to Maxwell. "So, what's the deal with this all-important Ball?"

"The Masquerade Ball is the official start of the Cordonian social season. Normally, it's just like any ball, though with the added fun of dressing up..."

"For the five-year olds among us..." mutters Drake under his breath.

"Though of course this year," says Maxwell, ploughing on in an undeterred manner, "it's a bit different, as a whole horde of gorgeous, rich, noble women are vying to become Cordonia's next queen."

"Queen...!" I squeak.

For whatever reason, I had not made the duh! obvious connection that whoever Christian chooses to be his wife will also end up becoming queen when he ascends to the throne. And, even more worryingly, if — by some bizarre twist of fate— Christian picked me at the end of it all, I would end up becoming a ruler of an actual country! And that was definitely a scary thought...

"Having second thoughts already?" asks Drake slyly over the rim of his tumbler, no doubt catching the horrified expression on my face.

"No?" I reply, a lot less convincingly than I want to.

Drake snorts. "You're not gonna last a week. Those 'ladies' at court are gonna eat you alive."

"They can't be that bad, surely..."

"Look, no offence," he says, fixing me with a pointed look, "but I've seen girls like you come and go. And it never ends well. Not for you, not for Chris, not for anyone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, glaring at him.

"I think you know exactly what I mean."

"Harper is not some crown-chaser!" objects Maxwell.

"Oh, yeah?" asks Drake archly. "Average American girl with a minimum wage job drops everything to jet halfway around the world in the hopes of getting her happily-ever-after after spending just a few hours with a prince? What part of that doesn't scream 'crown-chaser'?"

"The part where I actually don't care about Christian being a prince," I reply heatedly.

"Uh-huh," mutters Drake, clearly unconvinced. "Never heard that one before..."

"Look," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I get that you're looking out for your friend, but if you are trying to scare me off, it's a bit late for that now. And, besides, it's Christian who chooses who he wants for his wife and queen, so it's not like he's a complete pawn in all of this."

"Actually, it's not all up to Christian," interjects Maxwell. "The ladies in the running need to win over not just the Prince, but the King and Queen, the Council, the press and the general public as well."

"Oh."

Drake gives me a pointed look over the rim of his tumbler.

"Oh, it's really not as hard as it sounds," Maxwell reassures me confidently. "As long as you dress appropriately for each event, smile charmingly, and avoid any major social faux pas, you'll do great!"

"Somehow, I think there's going to be a lot more to it than that," I sigh, as I gaze out the window, wondering once again whether in my haste to escape my dreary life, I had bitten off more than I could chew.

* * *

Twelve hours and one refuelling stop in Paris later, we touch down on the tarmac of another private airport.

Apart from the four or so hours devoted to sleeping and eating, I had spent the majority of the flight logged onto the plane's WiFi, researching Cordonia, the royal family and this bizarre competition to find the new queen... while trying to ignore the disgruntled looks that Drake kept throwing me whenever I happened to glance in his direction.

But luckily, I did discover that everything that Maxwell had told me was true, and that he actually was who he said he was (having found the official House Beaumont website as well). So by the time the plane began its descent into Cordonia, I was feeling a bit more confident in my decision to jump ship.

Though Drake's pointed comments seemed to have a nasty habit of shouting at me from the back of my mind...

An understated, but expensive-looking car with blacked-out windows and the royal crest etched discreetly on the doors was waiting for us on the runway. A serious-looking chauffeur loads our luggage into the trunk, and within moments we are exiting the airport without any passport checks or security screening. Even though it's now morning, my body is still on Eastern time, so the long flight combined with the jet lag was making me feel a bit groggy.

As the car exits the tarmac and begins making its way along windy little streets, I stare out the window, drinking in the gaily coloured stone buildings that jostle for position on the sun-drenched hillsides. The city overlooks the sparkling blue ocean dotted with little fishing boats. A mixture of cedars and pines sway in the breeze, while a smattering of locals dot the sidewalks and the café tables.

"So, what do you think?" asks Maxwell.

Despite my tiredness, the view cannot but make an impression on me. "It's like something out of a postcard or a period movie," I reply breathlessly.

"If you burst into song, I'm throwing myself out of the car," warns Drake.

I glance at him, but I cannot decide if he is joking or not.

"I'm just saying it's beautiful," I reply defensively.

"It sure is, isn't it?" agrees Maxwell, chest swelling with pride.

Drake huffs moodily.

I roll my eyes as I resume looking out the window.

What Christian saw in the Drake, I had no idea... The guy was moodier than the Grinch on Christmas Eve!

After a few more turns through the city, we begin making our way up a steep hill. Eventually, we arrive at the top, where we are greeted by a long, gravel driveway lined with beautifully manicured hedges, at the end of which sits a stunning neo-Baroque building.

"The Royal Palace," announces Maxwell. "Welcome to your home for the next few months, Harper."

"This is where I'm staying?" I gasp as the car comes to a stop in front of the marble steps that lead up to a grand entrance guarded by rampant lions.

"Most of the nobility live here while the social season is underway," he replies. "Including the ladies who are competing for the Prince's hand."

"Trust me," drawls Drake, as he steps out of the car. "It's not as fancy as it looks."

"About as far as I can throw you," I mutter under my breath.

Drake rolls his eyes, though I'm convinced I caught a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth... But maybe that's just my sleepy brain playing tricks on me.

We are greeted at the door by smartly dressed footmen wearing white gloves, who pick up our luggage and disappear inside into the maze of hallways and doors.

"Let me show you to your room," says Maxwell, gesturing for me to follow him up a grand marble staircase.

"Later," says Drake, giving us a mock salute as we reach the top of the stairs. He makes his way down the long corridor dotted with doors without a backwards glance.

"So," I say, once he's out of earshot. "What's the deal with Drake? Is he always such a warm ray of sunshine?"

"Oh, don't take it personally," replies Maxwell with a grin. "He's like that with everyone."

"Any particular reason why he insists on being such an ass?"

"Even though he is Christian's best friend, Drake is a commoner, and has never really fit in with the aristocratic crowd. It's his way of coping, I guess."

"Or he just hates people in general."

Maxwell laughs. "Anyway, this is your room. In case you need anything from me or my brother, our rooms are just a couple of doors that way."

"Bertrand, right?" I ask, remembering what I found on the Beaumont website.

"Yes, the Duke of Ramsford. He's the head of our house. You'll meet him tonight."

Maxwell opens the ornately carved door and flicks on the lights to reveal a lavish room decked out with silk wallpaper, full-length paintings, and a massive four-poster bed.

My jaw drops to the floor. "Wow..."

After my cramped walk-up, this place was like a palace... Oh, wait – it was a palace!

"As a guest of the royal family for the social season, you're spared no luxury."

"So, nothing's stopping me from jumping on the bed?" I ask mischievously.

"Only your dignity," replies Maxwell, eyes twinkling conspiratorially.

Letting out an involuntary squeal of delight, I rush into the room and throw myself onto the bed. "Ahh... Memory foam's got nothing on this..." I sigh blissfully as I sink into the feathery softness.

"Right, I guess I'll let you get settled in. There should be a bathroom behind one of these doors, if you wanted to freshen up. You could also pay a visit to the salon to get your hair and nails done. I'm sure you'll want to look your best for your big debut."

"My what...?"

"I'm sorry... I keep forgetting that you're new to all this," apologises Maxwell with a shake of his head. "The Masquerade Ball is when all the suitors are officially presented to the Prince, as well as to the King. It's your chance to make a first impression on all the influential people at court and to stand apart from the competition. Not everyone dresses in costume, but you can be sure that the ladies competing for Christian's attention will be pulling out all the stops." He glances at my modest-looking suitcase, which had been deposited next to the bed by one of the footmen. "You don't happen to have a ballgown in there, do you?"

"I packed a dress," I reply, seriously doubting that the shimmery cocktail dress that I had hastily snatched from my wardrobe was the type of thing that would impress nobility at a fancy ball.

"Not to worry," smiles Maxwell. "I had a feeling this might be the case, so I took the liberty of booking an appointment for you at the Palace boutique this afternoon. You should find plenty of options to choose from there."

"Thanks, I'll check it out."

"Right, I'm off to catch a few hours' kip before the big show tonight, but if you need anything to make your stay more comfortable, just pick up the phone and the staff will be able to assist you."

After Maxwell leaves, I do a quick tour of my room. In addition to the massive bed, there is a minibar, a top-of-the-line HD TV hidden behind a secret panel with what seems like thousands of channels, as well as a cavernous marble-clad bathroom complete with a jetted tub. I quickly hang my meager supply of clothes in the wardrobe, deposit my make-up and toiletries on the vanity in the bathroom and opt for a luxurious soak under the rain shower to wash off the post-travel ickyness.

As I towel my hair dry and twist it into a messy bun, I take a long look at myself in the foggy mirror, wondering how I will measure up against the other noble women, who have no doubt spent their wholes lives practicing the art of pleasant small-talk and courtly seduction.

* * *

"Argh!"

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't think anyone else would be here!"

Stepping into the Palace boutique after a power nap, followed by a pit stop at the salon for a mani-pedi and a wax, I am greeted by the loud shriek of a brunette as she hastily tries to cover herself up with the dress she was in the process of trying on when I walked in.

"It's...it's alright," she replies with a shy smile, stepping behind a folding screen. Her soft, slightly accented voice floats over the screen. "I actually don't have an appointment, so I should be the one apologising."

"Honestly, don't worry about it," I reply, as I walk over to admire a rack of brightly coloured dresses. "I'm sure they can accommodate both of us."

"I suppose you're also here searching for something to wear to the Masquerade Ball tonight?"

I hear the rustling of heavy taffeta, and the brunette emerges a few moments later wearing a sparkly, cream-coloured dress with a fitted bodice and a poofy skirt.

"I'm not sure where the seamstress is, but I can show you around, if you want."

"That sounds great," I reply. "Erm, do you need help with that?" I ask, seeing her struggle to pull up the zip of her form-fitting dress.

"That would be amazing!"

Stepping over, I help her with the zip.

"Thank you," she says, smoothing down her dress. She picks up a delicate-looking mask decorated with gauzy lace and feathers and secures it to her face.

"Wow," I say. "You look great!"

The pale colour of the dress contrasts beautifully against her tawny skin, and the mask emphasised her almond-shaped, honey-brown eyes.

"You really think so?" she asks self-consciously, glancing at herself in the full-length mirror. Her dress shimmers like liquid silver each time she moves.

"Are you kidding? You look like a swan princess!"

She giggles. "I like that!" She twirls, her full skirts streaming out around her. "I agree – this is the dress. I'm Hana by the way."

"Harper."

"Pretty name," she smiles. "Now, shall we find something for you? One must have a mask for the Masquerade!"

"So, I've been told," I reply as we begin browsing the racks.

"Have you seen this angel costume?" asks Hana, picking out a floaty dress complete with a halo and wings. "The fabric on this dress is gorgeous."

"Or there's this one," I counter, plucking a sexy blood-red dress with lace detailing off the rack.

"Ooh!" she gushes. "Try it on!"

I take my dress behind the screen and slip into it. On the hanger I also find a small bag that contains a black lace mask studded with diamantes and a heavy black pearl necklace with matching earrings.

"So, what do you think?" I ask, stepping out from behind the screen and striking a pose.

"Hotter than fire!" enthuses Hana. "You are definitely going to be turning heads in that dress!"

"That is the plan..." I reply, as I spy a pair of lace-up red stilettoes on the other side of the room that would go perfectly with my getup. "So, are you also here in the hopes of getting chosen by the Prince?"

"I am," she confirms. A brief look of something – sadness, regret? – flashes across her face, but she quickly replaces it with a smile. "May I ask where you're from? I can't quite place your accent..."

"I'm American."

"I didn't realise they had noble houses in America..."

"They don't."

"Then how did you secure an invitation to the Ball?" Hana is staring at me with wide eyes.

"House Beaumont is sponsoring me."

"Oh!" she exclaims. "You must have really impressed the Duke of Ramsford if he decided to sponsor you."

"Actually, I haven't met Bertrand yet," I admit.

"Then how...?"

"It was his younger brother, Maxwell's idea. I met him, Christian and the other guys in New York during their bachelor party."

"You've met the Prince already?" gapes Hana. "That is... certainly an advantage."

"To be honest, we only spent a few hours together and I don't actually know anything about him, apart from the fact that he is a prince and that he takes his royal duties very seriously for him to agree to participate in such a strange matchmaking scheme."

"But you must have made an impression on him, if House Beaumont has decided to sponsor you for the social season."

"That's what Maxwell said," I reply. "But I guess we'll find out tonight."

The story continues in Chapter 3 - Masquerade

A/N: Even though I originally took my lead from the game, having looked into the flight time from New York to Europe and the time difference, I realised that the original arrival time was wrong, and the Masquerade could not take place on the same day as the arrival to Cordonia. Therefore, I have updated the timings so that they make more sense.

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#the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #prince liam #trr fanfiction #uncommon attraction #maxwell beaumont #harper gale #Spotify

[irishseeeker]

Prompt: Day 1, Jealousy and all its cousins @katexanthonyweek​

Kate Bridgerton  was definitely not jealous.

(She was.)

rating: mature!

---

Kate tried really not to dislike people.

That did not mean she was always successful but she truly did try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

It became an exceedingly hard task when certain people made it incredibly difficult for Kate to like them. Especially before she knew them.

For example, the woman across the room who was standing far too close to her husband, openly flirting with him.

That was hard to like.

Kate was not a fool, she noticed how women behaved around Anthony. She could accept women would always be attracted to Anthony. He had been a notorious rake for a reason, after all. It made no difference to their marriage, Anthony was hers. Whenever he was in a room, the female gaze naturally drew to him.

She could not blame them. Her charming husband, who would kill her if he ever heard her say this, was beautiful.

He was incredibly handsome but there was so much more. There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had long, dark eyelashes every woman dreamed of. He had a strong jawline that she loved to kiss and trace with her fingertips when they lay in bed. He had a head full of dark hair that she loved to run her fingers through, unlike some men his age who were already bald.

Kate herself could barely keep her eyes off of him and she got to see him everyday, especially when no one else did. She got to see him when he first woke up in the morning, completely content with his tousled hair and half awake eyes. She had the privilege of seeing him with his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his cravat loose and best of all-with nothing on at all.

It was a challenge sometimes in public not to touch him, especially at balls and parties when he was dressed so well. She usually kept her hands occupied with a drink or an appetizer.

Anthony usually subtly touched her anyway, always improperly, to tease her or just because he wanted to.

(Even when she blushes and scolds him for it, they both know she loves it.)

However, she could not accept women who stepped a bit too far. From across the room, a woman was talking to Anthony. She was leaning towards him, taking subtle steps towards him and creating an improper distance between them. The woman was petite, blonde and her skin glowed in the dimmed lighting of the ballroom. She was beautiful.

She also had her hand on Anthony’s forearm.

Kate did not like this feeling. This bitter, bubbling anger in the pit of her chest as she watched Anthony across the room.

She was not jealous.

(She was.)

Technically, that was also Kate’s forearm. She had married that forearm just under a year ago.

They would be celebrating their one year anniversary, hosting their first ball as Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton in Aubrey Hall next week. The ball would mark the end of the season, and Anthony and Kate were staying in Aubrey Hall for the rest of the summer before returning to London.

Kate was incredibly nervous.

She still felt at odds with her role as Viscountess. Her broken leg had put a stop to her social calendar after only a month of marriage, and she had not been able to carry out many of her roles as Viscountess.

It had taken a few months for her leg to heal. Kate could finally walk again, without the need for her stick or Anthony’s arm. Anthony had objected to their vigorous social calendar since the season had started but Kate was determined to attend as many balls as they could. Anthony, of course, was always by her side.

She was trying to do exactly as Violet Bridgerton would. Her days were now filled with parties, balls and social calls. Her first ball as Viscountess would be perfect.

It had to be.

She could not bear to think of the possibility of disappointing Violet and Anthony. There was a nagging feeling deep inside her, that society had been right to question why Anthony Bridgerton had chosen Kate Sharma to be his viscountess. The whispers that she was not fit for the role.

She was determined for those whispers not to be right.

Kate knew how lucky she was to have Anthony. Her marriage was wonderful, something she never would have dreamed of for herself. They loved each other to the point it was almost nauseating, as Eloise and Colin enjoyed to remind them, but they were also friends.

Anthony was her best friend.

Oh, she truly was nauseating.

The woman currently talking to her husband was making it exceedingly hard for Kate to concentrate on anything but them. Anthony had been talking to this mystery woman for just over three dances, when Kate had left him to dance with Benedict. This woman was now laughing at something Anthony said, her blonde curls bouncing in the air as her head tilted back.

What was so funny?

Kate loved her husband to death but he was not that funny.

“You cannot keep dancing with me to avoid dancing with other eligible ladies,” Kate teased Benedict, deciding to focus on her brother in law who was waltzing with her for the third time that evening.

“Can I not enjoy the company of my sister and not have any ulterior motives?” Benedict’s grin was wide across his face as he spun Kate around, narrowly avoiding her clumsy feet. She was a challenged dancer on her best days but when she was distracted by her husband across the room, it was every dancer for themself.

She glanced across the room again and now Anthony was laughing. Why was he laughing? She hoped it was a pitiful laugh.

“I thought I was doing you a favor by asking you to dance for a second and third time,” Benedict said, “I was distracting you from glancing over at my dear brother every few seconds.”

“I was not glancing. I was simply observing the room,” Kate said, but even Kate did not believe herself. She was blatantly staring at her husband. “Besides, we both know you are dancing with me to avoid dancing with one of the eligible ladies your mother is trying to marry you off to.”

“I believe three dances is all we have, so in a few moments I will have to venture back into the wild and attempt to avoid my mother for the rest of the evening,” He said, “However, I have been waiting for you to ask me who he is conversing with since the last dance. I thought you would give in five minutes ago”

“The thought had not crossed my mind.” Anthony had told her previously what a terrible liar she was. She previously thought it was because he knew her so well that she was incapable of lying to him, but she really was quite dreadful at it.

“Your face says otherwise.” Benedict glanced down at their feet before his teasing gaze returned to Kate’s face. “You have stepped on my feet at least four times while staring over there.”

A pang of guilt hit her. She was being rather rude. It was Benedict, so she knew he was not actually offended. Kate had gotten to know him quite well since her marriage. He joined them for dinner quite often, and spent a lot of time with Anthony at Whites or at their home. “You know, this is precisely why Gregory and Colin are my favourite brothers. They would never point out my flaws.”

Benedict chuckled. “Oh, how you wound me.”

Kate could not help herself. She had to know. “Who is that woman?”

Thankfully, Benedict chose not to tease and indulged her curiosity. “Her name is Eleanor Trent, previously Falmouth. My father and her, the Earl of Falmouth, attended Oxford together. They were friends until his death.”

Kate’s face fell. “She was a family friend?”

“Yes. She has brothers around the same age as Colin, Anthony and I. I know there were discussions of a betrothal, between Anthony and Eleanor. Nothing came of it, father died and Anthony would not discuss it further. He focused on the family and Oxford.” Benedict was not shy with the details, which Kate was equally grateful and upset about.

Kate’s stomach suddenly felt nauseous. Had something happened between them when they were young? Had Anthony courted her before his father’s death? Eleanor was the perfect candidate for a Viscountess. The daughter of an Earl, a family friend, a regular part of London society. “I imagine your mother was displeased.”

Kate loved her mother in law. Violet Bridgerton had been nothing but kind to Kate from the moment they met. She had been even kinder before their wedding, despite the circumstances that caused their nuptials.

They shared a lot in common, their love for gardening for one and met for tea multiple times a week, but Kate had always feared she was not the wife she had envisioned for her son. The same fear that had made itself known to Kate before her wedding remained inside of her: she feared Violet believed Kate had trapped her son.

The woman had witnessed her son’s face in Kate’s bosom, for heaven’s sake.

Benedict did not deny it. “Mother was furious when Anthony still refused three years later after he finished his studies. Eleanor later got married that season to a Baron and that was that. It took our mother a long time to learn that Anthony only does what Anthony wants to do.”

The music ceased and the dance ended, all the participants clapping before departing the dance floor. Benedict and Kate moved to the edge of the dancefloor, weaving through the crowds towards the refreshments table. Kate had been dancing for quite some time and she was quite thirsty. She wanted to find Anthony, but when she turned to look for him he had disappeared.

So had the woman.

Her heart sank in her chest.

“Brother, I believe that is enough dancing with my wife for one evening.”

Kate turned around to see her husband standing in front of her. She had regained her ability to breathe and realized how silly she was being. He smiled at her and she felt her insides melt.

It was ridiculous really, how this man’s smile always made her giddy.

She wanted to fall against his chest and bury her face in his neck, but instead she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his. That was as affectionate as society would allow. Anthony covered his hand with hers, squeezing it briefly. It was a promise for later.

“Thank you,” She said, smiling as she took the glass in his hand and took a long sip, the dryness of her mouth disappearing. Her husband had developed a sense of always knowing what Kate needed. He had rarely left her side during her bed ridden months with her broken leg and they had spent a lot of time together.

Kate wondered if they could leave soon. She wanted the privacy to ask Anthony about that woman earlier, she could not remember him ever mentioning an Eleanor when recounting his childhood tales.

“Jealous, brother?” Benedict teased, grinning at Anthony as he took a sip of his wine. “I was always the better dancer. Kate simply wanted a better partner.”

Kate let out a long sigh, her eyes flicking between the two brothers. “Now, boys-”

“Kate took pity on you and indulged your attempts at hiding from our mother’s matchmaking endeavours.” Anthony narrowed his eyes at his brother, his competitive edge seeping out. Her dear husband did enjoy being the best at everything and disputed anyone who thought otherwise. “My waltz trounces your waltz any day.”

At the mention of his mother, Benedict scanned the room around them before visibly relaxing, his shoulders dropping. “It is a nuisance. Mother had cornered me at every ball so far this season, introducing me to potential marriage candidates. Colin had his wits about him to travel as far as Greece to get away from her.”

“You should consider looking for a wife,” Anthony said, scanning the crowded room for their mother. “I presume mother is hassling Eloise.”

“Not you too,” Benedict replied, glaring at his brother. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own wife, thank you. She simply is not here.”

Anthony, now bored of his brother, turned to his wife with a teasing smile. “How many times did you step on his toes?”

It was Kate’s turn to glare at her husband. “None, thank you very much.”

Benedict decided to join in on his brother’s teasing, glad for the change in topic. “Lying is a sin, Kate.”

“Oh, Violet!” Kate said, looking over Benedict’s shoulder.

Benedict jumped and darted to the side, causing Anthony and Kate to burst out laughing, muffling their laughter into their sleeves once other party goers began to stare.

Benedict glared at the pair of them once he realized his mother was nowhere to be seen. “Very funny. Your ball at Aubrey Hall is only next week. Maybe I shall take a page out of your book and compromise some young lady in the garden?”

That wiped the smug smirk right off Anthony’s face.

Kate had to disguise her snort with a cough into her glove.

Before he could retort, Anthony’s eyes froze at something across the room. “Who is that man Eloise is speaking to? Alone?”

Kate and Benedict’s heads turned in the direction Anthony was glaring in. The man’s head was all they could see, Eloise hands waving in the air as she spoke passionately about something.

“I will be right back,” Anthony squeezed her hand before he charged in the direction of his young sister.

“Benedict!” The distinct voice of Violet Bridgerton came from an unknown direction, but it was enough for Benedict to say a quick apology to Kate before disappearing into the crowd.

Kate found herself alone at the refreshment’s table.

“Lady Bridgerton?”

Kate finished swallowing the biscuit she had put in her mouth, trying not to choke before she turned around to see who had addressed her. Kate held in her gasp, eyes widening as she looked at the woman in front of her.

It was her.

She bowed, and Kate did the same. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, I hoped we would be introduced sooner. I have heard so much about you.”

Kate felt herself blush. This woman was assuming she knew who she was. “Apologies, I do not believe we have met.”

“Oh! Forgive me,” She said, shaking her head and laughing to herself. “I would have thought Anthony would have mentioned me. I have known Anthony and the Bridgertons my entire life. I am Lady Eleanor Trent. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Apparently, she was on a first name basis with her husband.

Kate smiled pleasantly, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “How lovely to meet you, Lady Trent.”

“I am very much looking forward to your ball in Aubrey Hall.”

Kate did not know she was invited. Violet had handled the guest list. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“I have not been there in quite some time. We used to visit Aubrey Hall a few times a year throughout my childhood. It was like a second home. I adore it. Have you been yet?”

Kate blinked slowly at her odd question. “Have I been to my home? Yes.

For some reason, Lady Trent was not phased by Kate’s blunt response whatsoever. “I have been more times than I could count. I have known the Bridgertons my entire life, as I am sure you know. That is quite funny, I have known your husband longer than you.”

Kate tried to unclench her jaw, breathing steadily through her nose. “I did not, actually.”

“Oh, how odd.” Her laugh was almost a shriek. “I was practically a Bridgerton until my marriage.”

Kate was not being dramatic, that was a peculiar thing to say. Benedict had not conveyed it that way at all.

Lady Trent continued to speak. Kate wished she wouldn't. “Was your father an Earl? A Duke? A Viscount?”

What did that have to do with anything? Kate's heart sped up at the mention of her father. “No. My father was a gentlemen. What does that have to do with anything?"

“Oh.” Lady Trent was not subtle with her disdain. “How interesting. Forgive my curiosity. One would think that must have made the transition quite difficult.”

Kate blinked. “Pardon?”

Lady Eleanor took a small sip of her wine, nodding sympathetically. “It must be difficult coming into such an important role as a Viscountess at such a young age. Especially when one is marrying a man like Anthony.”

This woman had no clue what type of man her husband was.

“I know this from experience, of course. I would be terrified if I came into the role of Viscountess with no experience,” Eleanor smiled sweetly at Kate, her voice dripping with everything but kindness. Her not so subtle dig made Kate’s blood boil.

“Oh!” She let out a cheerful laugh. “I am sure you are doing a fine job, Lady Bridgerton.”

Kate was nearly positive she had been insulted at least twice in this bizarre conversation.

If one thing was certain, it was that Kate did not like this woman at all.

She particularly did not like how she had been looking at her husband but her personality was just as unpleasant.

Kate was debating how significant the consequences would be if she launched her wine at Eleanor’s pink evening dress. She could stumble, blame it on her healed leg. It would be worth the earful she would get from Anthony, who still believed her leg had not fully healed and Kate should still be bedridden.

Kate didn’t cause scenes intentionally, she had been in the background for most of her life.

It definitely was not something a Viscountess would do, to cause such a scene, so she resisted.

Instead, she finished her glass in a few gulps. Kate replaced it with a glass from one of the server’s trays quite quickly as she composed herself.

“Thank you so much for your concern.” Kate matched the falseness of her tone, her smile stretched far too wide across her face to be genuine. “It has been a splendid year. I suppose, experience or not, some people are just born for certain roles.”

Eleanor appeared as if she was at a loss for words. She simply nodded, her smile wrinkling the skin on her forehead. “I could not agree more, Lady Bridgerton.”

“I must go find my husband. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trent. I look forward to seeing you at our ball next week.” Kate certainly was not. “Good evening, Lady Trent.”

Kate found Anthony in the crowd, he had also been searching for her. He took her arm in his, squeezing it softly. That was their signal it was time to go home. They kissed and bid their family goodnight, making their way towards the front of the house to get their carriage.

Anthony nodded at the valet and opened their carriage door, making way for Kate to step in before closing it behind them.

“I am exhausted,” She said, pulling a few pins out of her hair that had been digging into her scalp all evening. Relief flooded her head as she gently massaged her sensitive scalp. She couldn’t wait to take off her corset and go to bed.

Kate knew she would not be able to sleep until she spoke to Anthony about both of their conversations with Lady Trent. Her interaction with Lady Trent had left Kate feeling uneasy.

“Come here.” Anthony pulled her on top of him, her back resting on the carriage wall and her feet resting on the cushioned seat.

“There is a seat right beside you.” Kate laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and lightly running her fingers through his hair.

“I prefer you on top of me.” Anthony moved his hands down to lightly squeeze her buttocks.

“I thought you liked being on top?” If he wanted to tease, Kate could tease him right back.

Anthony laughed, nuzzling her neck and leaving a trail of kisses from her collarbone all the way to her lips. “Right as always, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Did you have a good evening? I did not see you much,” She murmured against his lips. She could tell, with his fingers already creeping up her thigh, that talking was the last thing on her husband’s mind.

She would have to be quick if she wished to find out anything. The carriage ride home to Bridgeton House was less than fifteen minutes and he would not waste one of them before they had to stop.

They would not get caught in a carriage.

Again.

Once they arrived home, they wouldn’t do any talking once they got to their bed chamber.

She had enough willpower to focus on the task at hand and not let her husband completely distract her.

Right?

She needed to find out about his conversation with Eleanor.

His lips brushed hers before he spoke. “It was fine. A ball is a ball. I would have much preferred to stay home with you or at least sneak off to the gardens. Why did we not do that?”

Kate let out a laugh, her fingers tightening around his strands of hair as his lips moved down across her jaw. “How many gardens do you wish to compromise me in?”

“All of them,” Anthony said, his lips tickling the skin of her jaw as his laughter vibrated against her.

“Did you speak to anyone interesting?”

“Mm?” His teeth tugged at the top of her bodice, his tongue dipping behind the satin fabric.

“Anthony.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, his tongue was eliciting tingles throughout her chest and between her legs. “I said, did you speak to anyone interesting? Anyone you have not seen in a while?”

She would power through. “I met someone new, actually. Lady Eleanor.”

Anthony hummed in agreement against her skin, “Oh. Yes.”

“Benedict mentioned you have known her since you were children.”

“Indeed.” His face remained expressionless. He wasn’t listening to her. He was far too interested in pulling her dress down, which he did promptly.

Kate had lost the battle, and Anthony had won the war. He palmed her breasts in his hands, squeezing them softly as he pulled her in for a deep kiss. She could feel him hard against her thigh, and she reached down to palm him through the fabric of his breeches. His groan filled her ears and made her limbs weak.

“Oh,” She whispered, her lips parting as Anthony began to kiss his way down her neck, down her chest until his tongue grazed her nipple. He teased her momentarily before taking her fully in his mouth.

The carriage came to a halt and Kate hastily pulled up her dress, smoothening her dress and hair to fix her disheveled appearance. This was not their first indecent carriage ride. Anthony helped Kate out of the carriage, not letting go of her hand as they raced up the steps and entered the foyer, wasting no time running up the stairs.

If she did not keep up with Anthony, he would carry her up the flights of stairs to their bedroom.

Anthony dismissed her maid, fully intending on undressing his wife himself.

There wasn’t any talking for the rest of the night.

Kate’s morning had started off pleasant.

The following morning, Kate and Newton had joined Eloise and Penelope for a walk in the park. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the cool breeze was refreshing. They joined Kate at Bridgerton House afterwards for some lemonade, before leaving to return home.

She had called on Daphne for the remainder of the afternoon and on her way home, her carriage had stopped at Madame Delacroix’s modiste for one last fitting before the ball.

“Lady Bridgerton!”

Kate had finished her fittings and was waiting on one of her gown’s to be packaged. The last person she had wanted to see had walked into the modiste. “Lady Trent. How lovely to see you.”

She smiled widely at Kate, it was unnerving. “How are the ball preparations going?”

“Very well, thank you.” Kate had always found small talk with strangers quite uncomfortable. Kate could not find the words to describe how she was feeling in this current situation. She had not found the opportunity to discuss the evening with Anthony last night and he had left early this morning for Parliament. She would not see him until she arrived home.

“How nice,” She replied, nodding her head slowly. It reminded Kate of one of Hyacinth’s frightening dolls. “I always found the menu planning quite tedious.”

Kate nodded. “Indeed. A pleasant task, nonetheless.”

“Have you finalized your menu?” Lady Trent asked, examining the different materials in the display case.

Kate nodded. “For the ballroom, yes. We will have traditional English pastries, desserts. I would not want anyone to go hungry.”

Lady Trent continued to nod slowly, her lips in a flat line. “It is always a good idea to keep things simple. However, I do remember Anthony having a more adventurous palate.”

Kate would hardly call pastries, sandwiches, desserts and food displays she had planned simple. Kate had known this woman for a day and she had already had enough. “Why would my husband’s palate be any concern of yours, Lady Trent?”

That shut her up.

Kate squeezed the ribbons between her fingers, trying to stop her shaking hand. This woman was a beast.

“Have you ever been outside of England, Lady Bridgerton?” She asked, circling the ribbon’s display with disinterest.

“I have not,” Kate said through gritted teeth.

“What a pity.” She tutted, her curls bouncing in the air as she shook her head. “I suppose my traveling has given me a new outlook on life. It has opened me to a whole new world of cuisine and flavour. Traveling really exemplifies how dull the English customs and cuisine we are all accustomed to are.”

“I am sure it will be lovely. I must be on my way. Good day, Lady Bridgerton.” She bowed her head before turning around, swiftly exiting the modiste.

Kate was furious.

She sat incredibly still, not uttering a word during the carriage ride home until she reached Bridgerton House. She made her way towards the drawing room, not checking to see if Anthony was home in his office.

She stood in the middle of their drawing room, pacing in the same spot before she screamed.

There’s the slamming of a door and Anthony appears, Newton barking at his feet, looking incredibly alarmed. “Kate! Kate. Are you alright?”

Anthony charges towards her, holds her shoulders, scanning her entire body to assess any damage. “

“No. Yes, but no. It...it is that….that woman,” Kate spat out her words.

“What woman?” Anthony asked, frantically looking around the room.

“That woman. That, that-what was that word you taught me the other night?” Kate’s

“Bitch?” Anthony supplied, looking incredibly concerned for his wife.

“Yes!” Kate waved her arm in victory. “That bitch.”

Kate had sobbed in front of her husband before, from their declarations of love to the agony of her broken leg, but she had never expressed such fury before.

Anthony had not the slightest clue what was going on. “Kate, what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Kate was pacing the room again. “Lady Eleanor Trent, of course. Firstly, she was standing far too close to you. Then she touched your forearm. That is highly improper-

“At the ball?” Anthony furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about it. “Wait.”

Anthony stared at her as if she had grown another head. “Kate Bridgerton. Is this all because you are jealous?”

Her husband looked positively gleeful.

“Anthony!” Kate nearly threw a pillow at him.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” He pleaded, biting his lower lip to restrain his smile as he walked towards her with open arms. “Tell me what else happened.”

“She introduced herself and the conversation was strange. She was incredibly rude last night and this morning. She insulted me, my father, my

Anthony’s face darkened. “She insulted you? She insulted your father? That is unacceptable. I will make sure she is not welcome in London again. I will call on her and tell her exactly what I think of her-

Kate shook her head rapidly. “The last thing I want is you going near her. She has some strange infatuation with you. She referred to herself as practically a Bridgerton until she was married. Did you court her?”

“I barely knew her, Kate,” He said, looking bewildered at Kate’s words. “I had not seen her for nine years until last night. Our parents were mainly friends. Her family usually visited when I was at Eton. I most certainly did not court her, no.”

Kate did not reply, although she was relieved to hear Lady Trent’s words had been based on delusion. Kate felt incredibly overwhelmed, as if every emotion and fear she had been bottling up was crashing into her at once.

“Kate,” He stepped towards her cautiously, wary of the readily available pillows within her grasp. He sat on the couch, extending his hand towards her. “Come here, darling.”

She broke, practically falling into her husband’s arms who wrapped himself around her, pulling her onto his lap. Their foreheads and noses were touching as he spoke to her.

His lips brushed her cheek as he spoke softly. “Can you tell me what else is wrong? Is there something else going on?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead she stares down at her hands in her lap. “I am terrified I am letting you down.”

“Kate, you could never let me down,” He says, affection flooding his voice as he tilts her chin up softly with his index finger to look at her face.

Kate took a deep breath. “You have had so much on your shoulders for so long. Since your father died. Between your family and your duties, you have always worked so hard. I want to do whatever I can to help you. I want to do this right. I want to make your life easier however I can and I want to be a good Viscountess. I am really trying. I just feel like I am failing. What if she was right? What if my lack of experience means I am not right for this role? I-I want you to be proud of me.”

He leans down to kiss her firmly and it’s the type of kiss that makes her toes curl. “Kate,” He murmured, drawing back but staying as close as possible. “You are the perfect Viscountess because you are my Viscountess. Everyone adores you. I was merely existing before I met you. After you, I began to live. You brought this light into my life that I didn’t think was possible. Everything I do is for you and everything I am is because of you. I am so proud of you. I am in awe of you. You are everything, Kate. Everything.”

“I love you,” She says, because that is all there is to say. She loved him, and he loved her, even when she acted slightly insane in their drawing room. That was all she needed. Anthony was all she needed.

She could do anything with Anthony by her side.

“I love you,” She whispered,

“Anthony,” She whispered a few minutes later, feeling a lot calmer. “I was jealous, you know.”

Anthony tried his best to not look too pleased, but he was slightly smug. “Jealousy is a difficult emotion to deal with.”

“Not all of us can shove people out of the way, you know.” If Anthony saw a man try to speak to Kate, he simply shoved them out of his way to his wife.

Anthony shrugged. “It is quite an effective method.”

“I did not like how she behaves around you,” Kate said, nibbling on her bottom lip. “When I saw her touching you and standing so close to you-I did not like how it made me feel.”

A panic stricken look flashes across his face.“Kate, I would never encourage it-”

“Sweetheart, I know,” She murmurs, cupping his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him softly. The thought had never crossed her mind and she immediately went to comfort him. “I know. I know you would never stray.”

She felt his sigh of relief. “You would kill me.”

“No I would not,” She lightly teased, pecking his lips. “That would be merciful. I would physically and mentally destroy you.”

“That will never happen,” Anthony murmured, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her eyes. “There will be no more joking about infidelity.”

Kate took a deep breath before she spoke again. “So you have noticed Eleanor flirting with you?”

Anthony cleared his throat, frowning slightly as his uncomfortableness set in. “I have noticed. She is not exactly subtle.”

“I would never have married her. She was a young girl with a crush, which I cannot fault her for. I am incredibly handsome.” Kate rolled her eyes at her husband’s cheeky smile. “However, she was never kind. These recent events have only re-confirmed that. I remember when I was seventeen, I had come home for Christmas. Her family had come to stay for a week. She was incredibly rude to our servants. She cared more about parties and appearances than family. She was so disinterested in my younger siblings to the point of being cruel. She was not the type of person I could marry.”

“Why would your mother want you to marry her?” Kate asked, resting her forehead against his.

“My mother was grieving.” Anthony shrugged his shoulders, running one of his hands soothingly down her back. “She thought she knew what was best for me. She has always chosen to see the parts of people she wanted to see. Not all the parts that were in front of her.”

“Well, I for one am very glad you did not marry her.” Teasing was always an effective way to snap Anthony out of one of his serious thoughts, and she was successful when he snorted.

“As am I.” His thumb was making small circles on her cheek.

“She insulted my choice of food for the ball.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at his wife and stared at her. “What?”

“She called it simple English cuisine,” Kate said, still incredibly bitter. “Who in their right mind does not like scones and cucumber and chicken sandwiches?”

“Colin will be there and he will wolf them down, so there is no fear they will not be eaten.” Her brother in law was returning to England the day before their ball, conveniently missing most of the season much to his mother’s dismay.

“As someone who lives in your household, your menu choices have always been exceptional. I have also eaten many of those food choices, including off of you, and they were delicious.”

“Anthony!” She smacked his chest, laughing against his lips as he stole a kiss. He always knew how to make her feel better.

Anthony had always made her feel safe, she had trusted him even when she did not particularly like him. That stormy night in his library had changed everything. It was his nature that made people admire him and trust him. He took care of people. He had been misjudged by society, made out to be a cold hearted rake incapable of true affection.

It angered Kate beyond belief. Anthony had suffered more than most, losing his father and becoming the head of the family at such a young age. He had become a father to his siblings and a Viscount to his tenants and society. In a way, his life had begun and ended when his father died.

He was the first person she opened up to about her fear of storms and the reason she had been brave enough to face her fear.

He had become her anchor, and her his.

“Our ball is going to be wonderful, do you know why?” Anthony asked, grinning at his wife.

“Why?” She responded, smiling right back at him.

“Because it is ours,” He said simply. “It is celebrating one incredible year of marriage and many more to go.”

“Until forever.” Kate rested her forehead against his, feeling completely content.

Anthony nodded in agreement. “Forever it is.”

A week later, the Viscount and Viscountess' ball was a complete success.

The food was devoured.

Laugher could be heard all around the ballroom.

The Viscountess was praised for her efforts throughout the evening.

Lady Trent's absence was not missed.

Anthony had surprised Kate at the end of the evening with a show of fireworks.

It was perfect.

Kate and Anthony had their own private celebration that very night.

Edmund Bridgerton was born nine months later.

#katexanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #kateandanthonyweek #fanfiction #my fic #thank you this was fun! #kate x anthony

[songbirdsingingthings]

Chapter One: The Social Season Begins

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is my first multiple chapter fic! I was heavily inspired by Netflix’s Bridgerton, but I do not intend to stick to its script. The show and the fic are meant to be seat during the early 19th century (1810 -1830) so a lot of things like technology will not be present. Also, this is a quirkless au so no one is going to posses any powers. I plan for this fic to be between 8 and 12 chapters, but we’ll see as we go along. I hope you all enjoy <3!

Next Chapter ~ Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9K

When social season rolled around, all bets were off. The most vicious of claws and fangs were disguised by beautiful dresses and headpieces, followed by the batting of eyelashes and the oh so precarious movements of feathered fans. It happened every year - hundreds of Musutafu’s young ladies braved the social scene in the pursuit of a husband either of their own status or higher. This year was no exception, in fact, it was shaping up to be one of the most influential seasons to date. Several of the most eligible and prestigious lords, viscounts, and barons would be attending the numerous balls that were in the works. While it was expected of the young women to pair up and find a love-match, such relationships always proved to be half-successful. Of course they would be married and well taken care of, but too often did you hear of wives maintaining an empty manor whilst their husbands were off gallivanting at their clubs, or more likely, at brothels. This proved to be your biggest fear - you wanted the beautiful relationship your parents had. The one where your father doted on your mother, bringing her flowers on random days because he happened to see them and think of her. One where he dutifully raised their children together, never once undermining her abilities due to her gender. And one where, right up until her very last breath, he held her hand and whispered sweet nothings to her. It was a sorrowful day when your mother died, but your father carried on in her place, raising you and your elder brother in the most proper and loving way he could. This encouraged you to go forth with your head held high. You would find the one you were meant to be with and not just be a part of a silly little love-match.

“Oh Lady Yagi, you look absolutely wonderful.” With a deep breath you met your eyes in the mirror in front of you and let out a little gasp. The dress you were wearing was utterly gorgeous. It was a very pale blue, even lighter than the powder blue that covered your bedroom walls, and had the most beautiful little detailed flowers scattered across it. There weren’t enough to mistake you with a garden, but there were plenty there to compare you to the most gorgeous dogwood. The necklace that lay across your neck was much daintier than what others tended to wear but you adored it - after all, it was your mother’s. And resting softly on your head was a matching tiara with both diamonds and light blue sapphires.

“My, Mei, you have simply outdone yourself.” You whisper. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of your reflection, the twinkles and glimmers of the jewels doing wonders to accentuate your features.

“Lady Yagi, how you make me swoon,” Mei exclaims, feigning a faint. You giggle at her and swat her gently with your fan. The two of you make small talk as she adds finishing details to your look; smoothing out hairs here and there, clipping in your diamond earrings, and slipping your silk gloves onto your hands.

“Y/N, my sister, we must be heading off!” A call echoed from just outside your room, coming from the main hall downstairs.

“And not a moment too soon, my nerves have been getting the best of me.” You say, a wide smile covering your face. You descended upon the grand staircase to see both your father and your elder brother waiting for you.

“My word! Y/N, my darling, you look divine!” Your father exclaimed, walking forward to place a ghost kiss to your cheek, not daring to mess up Mei’s handiwork. You smiled at your father and looked at your brother.

“Izuku, you look quite dashing.” You tell him, earning a grin from his freckled face. “Hoping to see Lady Uraraka this evening?” A blush quickly covered his face.

“Well, yes, she had told me she would be attending earlier when we took a promenade around- hold on, this is your special evening we need to be discussing.” Izuku says, switching the topic onto you. Rolling your eyes playfully, you took his arm as the three of you made your way into the horse-drawn carriage waiting for you in front of your house. The three of you entered, your father and brother careful of your long dress, and then you were off.

“So my dear, are you excited? Nervous?” Your father asks. You smile and inspect your gloved hands.

“Both. I just wish…” you trail off. Your father leans down to meet your gaze with slight concern in his eyes.

“Wish what?” He says, urging you to continue. A small sigh escapes your mouth as you look back up.

“Father, you have done wonderfully to raise both Izuku and I without Mother here. I think both of us agree on that fact.” You begin. Izuku nods and offers the both of you a grin. “I just wish that she was here. To tell me of what she was feeling when she debuted, how she calmed the churning in her stomach.” You confess, your hands now clenched. You were met with a sad smile from your father.

“How I wish for that as well, my dear. She would always tell me how excited she was for you to embark on your own marital journey. And, while I in no means shared the same experience as she did, I can tell you of what I was feeling.” He says. You look up, curiosity flashing in your eyes.

“Please,” you say, prompting him to tell you. He laughs and leans back on the leather seated cushion.

“Well I, like your brother, had an easy time finding the women we would want to spend the rest of our lives with.” Your father’s sentence earned a blush from Izuku, but no words of contention. I suppose we will be welcoming Lady Uraraka to our family soon, you thought smiling to yourself. “I was a nervous wreck, though, when my eyes found your mother. She was absolutely divine - like the gods had graced the earth specifically with her. She was quick to forgive my nerves and the slight stutter in my voice as I introduced myself to her, and things just seemed to run its own course from there.” You could see the wistful gaze in your father’s eyes as he thought of your mother. “Inko was a most gracious woman, both in mind and beauty. And those qualities, my dear, were passed on to you.” His hand came to cradle your cheek, brushing away the tears that started to well in your eyes. “But this is no time to be in despair, no, it is time to be quite the opposite than that. It’s time for you to find love.”

The carriage stopped rather abruptly, but you didn’t care. You gathered the train of your dress in your hand and were practically buzzing by the time the footmen opened the door. Your father stepped out first followed by Izuku, the latter of which offered a hand to you as you stepped out. The venue was absolutely gorgeous, and it was no surprise considering the man hosting it. Lord Takami was a rather benevolent and expressive man and those traits bled right into his events. With lanterns dotted all over the front steps and the ballroom, candles that seemed to float in midair, and the most magnificent smelling floral arrangements you had ever seen, you understood perfectly - this was what it must’ve felt like for your mother. Out of the corner of your eye, a pretty brunette started to drift towards you and your family, a bashful smile set across her face. Before you had a chance to speak, Izuku stepped in front of you and your father.

“Lady Uraraka, what a pleasure to see you here.” Your brother says, his hand extending to her gloved one.

“It’s truly all mine, My Lord.” She responds as a shy smile flickers across her face. Izuku spares you and your father a nod and a grin before he leads Lady Uraraka towards the middle of the floor, the two melting into the dance being performed seamlessly.

“Those two make such a divine and true love-match, don’t you agree Father?” You gush. Just seeing your brother so hopelessly in love was enough to make your heart flutter.

“I do, my dear,” he chuckles upon seeing your expression, “but we are not here to solely admire them. There will be plenty of time to do that at their wedding,” your father quips, earning a laugh from you. “Let’s get you introduced and dancing, hmm?” Your evening was full of re-introducing yourself to mutual acquaintances and establishing new ones in other young men. You made sure to only dance with those you felt could be a possible match for you, but as time went on you started to lose hope. It’s not that the men were horrid by any means - well, with the exception of one Lord Mineta - but nothing about them seemed to stir your heart. You currently found yourself in a most dull conversation with Baron Ojirou.

“Forgive me, Lord Ojirou, I must get some air. All of this dancing has made me quite light-headed,” you say, excusing yourself.

“Oh! Would you like me to accompany you, Lady Yagi?” He asks nicely. You raise your hand in denial but give him a light smile.

“There is no need. I wouldn’t want to impose on your evening, I will just be a few moments.” You say, slipping away to the outdoor gardens. It was dark, but the luminescence coming from inside Lord Takami’s manor provided enough light so that you could see. You made your way over to the stone railings that bordered the rose garden and held onto it with both of your gloved hands, heaving a sigh. “My goodness…” you whisper, heaving a sigh. The night air nipped a bit at your skin but you paid no mind to it. What does catch your attention, though, was the light footsteps that were approaching you from behind. “Lord Ojirou, as I said before, there is no need-” You begin, but stop immediately when you are met with someone else. He was much different than the man you had just been recently talking to - physically more reserved, taller, and much much handsomer. Even with the scar covering the left side of his face, his presence was enough to make a woman swoon. “Forgive me.” you manage, curtsying a bit.

“Oh, no, it is I who should be apologizing. Pardon my interruption on your… outing.” He says awkwardly. This earns a slight giggle from you. 

“This was merely a simple break from the clamor inside.” you say, relaxing a bit more. Before the man could say another word, you see Izuku catch your eye from the steps.

“Y/N! There you are, Father and I have been looking everywhere- Shouto?” Your brother says shocked, his eyes meeting the man across from you.

“Izuku?” He responds, bewilderment flickering across his face.

“My word, it’s been a while! How as your father, the Duke of Endeavor, faring these days?”

“D-Duke?” You stutter out, in awe of the man’s title. Izuku catches your confusion and gives you a smile. 

“Forgive me for not introducing you! Todoroki, this is me dear sister, Y/N.” The man, now known to you as Shouto Todoroki, gave you a quick nod. “Y/N, this is Shouto Todoroki. The son of the Duke.”

#Shoto #Shouto #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #bnha shoto #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x you #mha shouto x reader #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #shouto fluff #shouto fic #shouto fanfic #shouto fanfiction #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto fluff #shoto fanfiction #shoto fanfic #shoto fic #mha shouto todoroki #shouto torodoki #shouto todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki x you #bnha shoto todoroki #mha #mha imagines #mha fluff #mha fanfiction

[rockislandadultreads]

Fantasy for Adults: reading recommendations 

Jade City by Fonda Lee

JADE CITY is a gripping Godfather-esque saga of intergenerational blood feuds, vicious politics, magic, and kungfu. The Kaul family is one of two crime syndicates that control the island of Kekon. It's the only place in the world that produces rare magical jade, which grants those with the right training and heritage superhuman abilities. The Green Bone clans of honorable jade-wearing warriors once protected the island from foreign invasion--but nowadays, in a bustling post-war metropolis full of fast cars and foreign money, Green Bone families like the Kauls are primarily involved in commerce, construction, and the everyday upkeep of the districts under their protection. When the simmering tension between the Kauls and their greatest rivals erupts into open violence in the streets, the outcome of this clan war will determine the fate of all Green Bones and the future of Kekon itself.

Queen of the Conquered by Kacen Callender

An ambitious young woman with the power to control minds seeks vengeance against the royals who murdered her family, in a Caribbean-inspired fantasy world embattled by colonial oppression. Sigourney Rose is the only surviving daughter of a noble lineage on the islands of Hans Lollik. When she was a child, her family was murdered by the islands’ colonizers, who have massacred and enslaved generations of her people—and now, Sigourney is ready to exact her revenge. When the childless king of the islands declares that he will choose his successor from amongst eligible noble families, Sigourney uses her ability to read and control minds to manipulate her way onto the royal island and into the ranks of the ruling colonizers. But when she arrives, prepared to fight for control of all the islands, Sigourney finds herself the target of a dangerous, unknown magic. Someone is killing off the ruling families to clear a path to the throne. As the bodies pile up and all eyes regard her with suspicion, Sigourney must find allies among her prey and the murderer among her peers... lest she become the next victim.

Half a King by Joe Abercrombie

Betrayed by his family and left for dead, Prince Yarvi, reluctant heir to a divided kingdom, has vowed to reclaim a throne he never wanted. But first he must survive cruelty, chains and the bitter waters of the Shattered Sea itself - all with only one good hand. Born a weakling in the eyes of a hard, cold world, he cannot grip a shield or swing an axe, so he has sharpened his mind to a deadly edge. Gathering a strange fellowship of the outcast, he finds they can help him more than any noble could. Even so, Yarvi's path may end as it began - in twists, traps and tragedy...

The Record Keeper by Agnes Gomillion

The Record Keeper is a visceral and thrilling near-future dystopia examining past and present race relations. After World War III, Earth is in ruins, and the final armies have come to a reluctant truce. Everyone must obey the law—in every way—or risk shattering the fragile peace and endangering the entire human race. Although Arika Cobane is a member of the race whose backbreaking labor provides food for the remnants of humanity, she is destined to become a member of the Kongo elite. After ten grueling years of training, she is on the threshold of taking her place of privilege far from the fields. But everything changes when a new student arrives. Hosea Khan spews dangerous words of treason: What does peace matter if innocent lives are lost to maintain it? As Arika is exposed to new beliefs, she realizes that the laws she has dedicated herself to uphold are the root of her people's misery. If Arika is to liberate her people, she must unearth her fierce heart and discover the true meaning of freedom: finding the courage to live—or die—without fear.

The Women's War by Jenna Glass

In a high fantasy feminist epic, a revolutionary spell gives women the ability to control their own fertility—with consequences that rock their patriarchal society to its core. When a nobleman’s first duty is to produce a male heir, women are treated like possessions and bargaining chips. But as the aftereffects of a world-altering spell ripple out physically and culturally, women at last have a bargaining chip of their own. And two women in particular find themselves at the crossroads of change. Alys is the widowed mother of two teenage children, and the disinherited daughter of a king. Her existence has been carefully proscribed, but now she discovers a fierce talent not only for politics but also for magic—once deemed solely the domain of men. Meanwhile, in a neighboring kingdom, young Ellin finds herself unexpectedly on the throne after the sudden death of her grandfather the king and everyone else who stood ahead of her in the line of succession. Conventional wisdom holds that she will marry quickly, then quietly surrender the throne to her new husband…. Only, Ellin has other ideas. The tensions building in the two kingdoms grow abruptly worse when a caravan of exiled women and their escort of disgraced soldiers stumbles upon a new source of magic in what was once uninhabitable desert. This new and revolutionary magic—which only women can wield—threatens to tear down what is left of the patriarchy. And the men who currently hold power will do anything to fight back.

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

Tomorrow, on the beach, Baru Cormorant will look up from the sand of her home and see red sails on the horizon. The Empire of Masks is coming, armed with coin and ink, doctrine and compass, soap and lies. They'll conquer Baru’s island, rewrite her culture, criminalize her customs, and dispose of one of her fathers. But Baru is patient. She'll swallow her hate, prove her talent, and join the Masquerade. She will learn the secrets of empire. She’ll be exactly what they need. And she'll claw her way high enough up the rungs of power to set her people free. In a final test of her loyalty, the Masquerade will send Baru to bring order to distant Aurdwynn, a snakepit of rebels, informants, and seditious dukes. Aurdwynn kills everyone who tries to rule it. To survive, Baru will need to untangle this land’s intricate web of treachery - and conceal her attraction to the dangerously fascinating Duchess Tain Hu. But Baru is a savant in games of power, as ruthless in her tactics as she is fixated on her goals. In the calculus of her schemes, all ledgers must be balanced, and the price of liberation paid in full.

#fantasy #science fiction #adult fantasy #ya fantasy for adults #book recs #reading recommendations #recommended reading #library #public library #currently reading #tbr #booklr #booklist

[orsuliya]

Just like what other people said, your blog is my MI wikipedia! You touched on the subject of our Dawang not being celibate and might have some arrangements with the likes of widows. I think that since getting married, he probably was which fits into Xiao Qi's sensibilities. I also thought that perhaps it is more plausible that his excursions to the Nighshou grasslands involve more than sightseeing and probably inculded some extra curicular activities to scratch some itch ;) The girls there are

are more liberal and more forward than their Cheng counterparts. There would be a lot more opportunities for one night stands which eleminates from delveloping feelings compared to the alternative of friends with benefits. Also, he rules Ningshou, the possibility of being seen with someone however brief and far between would set tongues a wagging. *Apologies, I'm new to tumblr. Sorry that my question was on two "asks". I did not know that there was a limit on words

To be honest, I don't quite know myself how this character limit is supposed to work, when it's clear that some of my Nonnies know no limits... when it comes to the length of their asks. How they do it, I couldn't say.

If we're talking about drama!Xiao Qi, I fully believe he hasn't stepped out with anybody since their marriage. But then again, he liked Awu from the start and unlike his book counterpart wasn't creeped out by her being a child bride. By the time they get married he has some reason to believe she might be the one for him, even if at that point it's mostly wishful thinking. However, his interest is definitely piqued! Besides, in the drama their marriage is something that he seems to be interested in for its own sake and not something he enters into for purely political gain. The difference is so significant that I believe he would have eventually sought Awu out while she was living in Huizhou and it's rather doubtful this would have taken him three years; the kidnapping simply moved the timeline up.

As for his bachelor years, you might be onto something with this sightseeing-with-benefits theory. Although it does present its own challenges. See, book!Xiao Qi kept concubines and had this entire thing about openly dosing his every sexual partner with contraceptives, whether they wanted it or not. This curious policy had much to do with his own tragic backstory and even more with his ambitions, neither of which drama!Xiao Qi shares. Yet even so I don't believe the latter would be any more enthusiastic about sowing his wild oats everywhere, knowing it might bring about some pretty heavy consequences, nor would he refuse to take responsibility. And yet there are no children.

The problem with having sexual relations with eligible local females under his own name would be that any of them might potentially try to tie him down with a child; and it would even work, knowing his feelings about parentless children and their plight. I rather doubt drama!Xiao Qi is the kind of man who forces women to drink contraceptives for no reason other than his personal whim; if he was, nothing would be stopping him from taking official concubines, which he explicitly does not in the drama. Not that it stops girls from trying. In fact, Lu-furen had brought in her two young relatives for the very purpose of slipping them between Xiao Qi's sheets, which is why we hear them assure their protector they might yet have a chance of becoming concubines despite there suddenly being a main wife. And Xiao Qi unwillingness to keep women is apparently nothing new; according to Yuxiu there were no women in the house for at least two years and probably even before that.

However, it's rather obvious that Ningshuo girls see no problem with propositioning a total stranger without knowing as much as his name. This tells us that while most relations started around the bonfire probably end in marriage, not all of them necessarily do. Moreover, it hints at there being a common way of minimizing the risk of possible pregnancy. Alternatively and much less likely, unmarried pregnancy is not socially-ostracized and might in fact be seen as a definite proof of female fertility. Were the stakes in any way high, then any woman would think ten times before propositioning someone who could disappear in the morning, never to be seen again. Local lads who can be easily pressured into taking responsibility should be more than fine; an elusive stranger, however attractive, not so much. Alima strikes me as anything but foolish and while Xiao Qi is hot, he's not so hot as to risk your whole future for a single night with him. No man is.

Even so, while incognito affairs are a definite option, it's not something I can see happening with any regularity, hence my theory about friendly widows with little incentive to formalize any sexual relationship. Also, I wouldn't reject the possibility of certain closeness between comrades, homosexual behaviours being neither criminalized nor seen as immoral in ancient China and in fact rather common before, you guessed it, foreign influence started to creep in during Tang dynasty, especially if such relations didn't interfere with filial piety and producing children. Now, for any OT3-shippers out there, sharing a male partner with one's wife would be seen as something extraordinary, but also not totally out of the realm of possiblity, see General Liang Ji and his domestic arrangements.

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #book!XQ is one cold bastard #not because he has concubines #but rather because of how little he cares about them #which is not at all #friendly widow or friendly comrade the benefits stay roughly the same

[thefreakishmuffin]

Why Cinderella is actually a good Disney Princess (you guys are just mean)

Alright, nobody asked me to make this post, but here we are. I post whatever I want.

People over the past years have come to really dislike the older Disney Princesses. They see them as weak, submissive pushovers who always need a man to save them. But of all the older princesses such as Snow White, Aurora, and even Ariel, the one that I see get some of the most hate is Cinderella. And honestly, as a woman myself who is all for helping empower other women, I don’t necessarily think she deserves the hate.

People like to say that she is just a helpless damsel in distress who lets a man solve all her problems for her. That she never does anything for herself. And while I can see where people are coming from, I have to say that I don’t believe this is true. (And for those who are really salty about Cinderella, it’s obvious that all they know about her is from that one really crappy Cheetah Girls song).

Let’s start out from when Cinderella was born. She was born to a wealthy man and his wife, but his wife died very early on in young Cinderella’s life. And so her father remarried to Lady Tremaine, and she brought along her two young daughters, Anastasia and Drizella. 

(Look at the way she’s petting that cat. EVILLLLL!!!!)

But not long after their marriage, the father passed away. (I’m pretty positive Lady Tremaine killed him, but whatever). And so what did Lady Tremaine do? Without a man of the house having a hand in how things are done, and leaving Lady Tremaine as the sole head of the house, this gave her the opportunity to do whatever she wished with little Cinderella. And so she made her a servant in her own home.

You could argue that Cinderella was weak for letting herself become a slave in her own home, but you know what? The girl was like, seven. Maybe eight. So chill.

And so the years pass by and Cinderella is still serving her stepmother and two ugly stepsisters. And this is where I see people start to get upset. “She’s certainly old enough now! Why doesn’t she just leave?” Well, here’s why. This is all she has known. As far as we know, she has no other family or friends (outside of animals), out there in the world to go to. And even if she did run away, what do you think would happen to a beautiful young woman all alone on the streets in the mid 1800s? Any number of bad things could happen to her. And there is also the emotional abuse she has been though with Lady Tremaine. This woman has dominated this girl’s entire existence, likely making her feel trapped.

(Yo dude where do I get magic soap like that? That’s pretty dope!)

In fact, while we’re on the topic of Cinderella’s home life, I want to point out something. I think it’s important to understand that Cinderella was very much a victim here. She was a victim of emotional and verbal abuse by her stepmother and stepsisters. She was growing up in a really crappy situation. If she wanted to play the victim, she had every right to. She totally could’ve done that. 

But she didn’t.

Instead of sitting back and moping about how her life sucks and allowing herself to wallow in misery, she instead chooses to look on the positive. While she doesn’t like her situation, she makes a conscious effort to be positive. And honestly, I think the ability to be optimistic and joyful even through the worst of circumstances is a very admirable trait to have. One that I think we can all learn from. She had every right to be miserable, but instead chose to look on the bright side and find happiness in her everyday life, even if it was just a little bit here and there.

(*smiles like Flynn Rider* Guys I want a castle)

And then we get to the ever so important plot point of the royal ball. Wanting to be a grandpa, the king sends out invitations to every eligible young maiden in the kingdom to attend a huge ball so that his son, the prince, my find a future bride. Lady Tremaine, as the mother of some eligible young maidens, receives an invitation as well and reads it to her daughters. 

It’s here where people like to say that, “Cinderella only wanted to go to the ball because of the prince, and that’s a dumb, stupid reason.” But really pay attention here. I mean really pay attention. We see the stepsisters get all giddy and excited about the prince, but Cinderella makes no mention of him. Like, none at all. She, for the first time in her life, has actually been invited to a party, and a huge one at the palace at that! She’s not excited about the prince here, she’s excited about having the opportunity to go to a big party in a pretty dress. And you know what? If I had to deal with all her family’s crap for the past several years and never got a day off, I’d be pretty stoked too. It’s not until after she meets the prince that she actually gives a crap about him.

And then we get to the next bit of discourse I’ve seen a lot of people fight over. The Fairy Godmother, and how she swoops in out of nowhere and fixes everything.

(Sparkle baby SPARKLE!!!!)

I’ve seen people get really bothered by this part. Some people don’t like the Fairy Godmother, saying that she’s random and that her helping get Cinderella to the ball is, once again, making Cinderella a helpless damsel. But here’s how I personally view it.

I see this somewhat as symbolism as well as an important plot point in the story. To me, this is Cinderella getting rewarded for all her hard work. She’s worked day and night almost her entire life under abuse and terrible conditions, but has kept up a brave face, positivity, kindness, and grace through it all. But then people argue that, “Why didn’t the Fairy Godmother appear earlier when Cinderella was being pushed around for all those years?”

My response to that question is a quote from the Fairy Godmother herself, when she states, “Even miracles take a little time.” This means that good things will come to you in due time, when they are meant to come to you, if you keep your head up and don’t let yourself be weighed down by the world around you. The pumpkin carriage and dress were all rewards for Cinderella’s life of hard work and perseverance, and though we might not get our miracle in the form of some random sparkles, it can always come in other ways.

And then we have the whole scene at the ball blah blah blah...

And onto the next point the internet likes to whine about! Cinderella needing a...man to save her?

(Not gonna like, those looks painful to walk in. I can barely even walk in regular heels.)

Alright here’s the deal. The prince didn’t do anything. He sat at the palace the whole time. I don’t know where you’re getting this “she needs a man to save her” bullcrap, because it ain’t there, snowflakes. 

Around the end of the story, Lady Tremaine locks Cinderella upstairs in the attic, hoping that she’ll remain trapped up there when the Grand Duke comes a knocking with the glass slipper. I’ve seen people get upset about this, but seriously, what else was she gonna do other than ask her mice friends for help? Yes, she could’ve jumped out the window, but she was really high up and that fall likely could’ve killed her, if not at least horribly wounded her. But I do admit that she could’ve screamed really loud for someone to hear her. That makes sense and probably could’ve worked, but whatever. It’s Disney. 

And then people get upset that she went and married a guy who only seemed interested in feet, but you know what? Given the options of either remaining a slave to your abusive family, or living in a palace with the chance of becoming Queen one day? I think we all know which one we’d choose. (Also the prince actually is funny and gets a personality in the third movie...which is surprisingly really good).

(Waking up with flawless makeup and hair is #goals, to be honest.)

And there you have it. Cinderella, is in fact, a good Disney Princess. Now I’m not saying that she’s by any means perfect. But this Disney Princess brings a lot more to the table than just pretty looks and excellent cleaning skills. 

And if you still want to get up on your soapbox and scream about how she is an enemy to feminism, then I feel really sorry for you. Because she possesses some positive traits and qualities that I think everyone, not just women, should have. 

#disney #disney's cinderella #cinderella #movie analysis #disney analysis #disney princess #disney princesses #cinderella disney

[strongsong117]

WIP Whenever

I've been tagged by @johaeryslavellan yesterday! Thank you for tagging me (it's my very first tag in a post hoho) and your works are delightful!

Also, I decided to do this because I'm stuck in this fic and don't know how to proceed. I kinda need some help bc whenever I wrote made-up² stuff I felt guilty and wouldn't be able to finish the piece (it would just sit in a folder full of unfinished fics).

It's kind of a back story of my male Trevelyan and his quest for self-discovery (I think??) in the face of conflicting thoughts and feelings who would later meet a charming and charismatic Tevinter mage.

He remembers the first time someone ever confessed to him. It was a daughter of another notable house back in Ostwick, a person he considered a close friend. They've been friends for a good long while, back when Michael was around seven years old until he was nine. He was surprised when she walked towards him—beet red, blushing and stumbling over her words. And, contrary to what he knew was supposed to be his reaction, he was repulsed. Not by the fact that she liked him, but by that fact that she liked him. And it didn’t help that it made no sense, even to him. He thought that it was merely the reaction of a child who had absolutely no idea of what admiring another entails. But he was, once again, proven wrong.

Years later and he was what people would call an "eligible bachelor". He'd attended many of his aunt's parties, mostly out of necessity rather than preference, and there were numerous instances where he would be introduced to fine, unwed ladies. And he despised it. Later, in his twenties, he would start walking out of obviously orchestrated introductions with no guilt or remorse, but instead a satisfied smirk when he heard their offended gasps. Then, he would go to the estate's more hidden balconies and drown himself with thoughts and wine.

His gaze would wander around the crowd—constantly landing on some notable appearances and undeniably attractive faces—and he wondered: Was it simply preference? Did he not like the idea of being with women because that was simply not what he wanted? Did he prefer the companionship of his fellow men?

And so, with these questions swimming in his mind, he approached a familiar face that he knew was following his movements that night with more interest than others. Markus was the man's name, he remembered, and if memory served, he was a few years older. Michael chatted him up, invited him to that isolated balcony to try and get to know him. It was faster than he had anticipated. Markus had told him how he followed Michael's achievements through the years, how he had such an attractive face and how it was possible for him not to be married yet. Michael tried to brush the question off by reminding the man that he was still young—just a few years from his teens. He went back to the "attractive" part, hoping that the situation would escalate. And it did. Leaning against the balustrade with a man kneeling between his legs as he was pleasured—if it could even be called that, because he immediately pushed the man away, fixed and fastened his trousers, and ran to the farthest place he could to hide until the party ended.

Perhaps not, then.

Around 9:35, he had the opportunity to volunteer for a research expedition to the forests of Ferelden. They recruited him for his skills with the bow, and he took advantage of it to gain additional knowledge about historical and crucial events. Michael had always been interested to the point of obsession when it came to the history of Thedas and the different cultures of its inhabitants, so having the chance to see ancient Tevinter ruins and the remnants of elvhen structures up close was a wonderful bonus of his lending of his skills.

They had been in the expedition for a good 6 months—from Kingsway to Drakonis—and Michael was able to form new friendships with the people he travelled with. Immanuel, the circle mage that he befriended more than others, was their Tevene specialist, focusing more on their language.

Their friendship started when they were flanked by a pack of wolves while the two of them were sent out to search the area for nearby ruins. They worked well together, surprisingly. After that, Michael was the person whom Immanuel discussed his preliminary findings with and he listened to Immanuel's theories while adding his insights that amazingly helped the mage to form more concrete conclusions. During their free time, they talked about their childhoods and pasts, learning something new about the other each day. He admired Immanuel’s intellect and wit, and he was undeniably charming too.

Michael also loved the way Immanuel's eyes sparkled with passion as he speculated about all the possibilities—though Michael would admit he knew less than half of what he was talking about. It was as if his eyes reflected the starry sky itself, and Michael thought he could watch the man all day if that was the scene presented to him.

And it is inevitable to develop certain feelings whenever you’re constantly in the presence of a person who also liked your company. That was something Michael still knew he was capable of—attraction—even after all those unfortunate(?) incidents in his past. Maybe if he was the one who initiated things, it would feel less… wrong? Was that how it worked?

So, Michael waited for a chance—the perfect opportunity to bring up his feelings towards Immanuel, and to at least clear the air if it doesn’t turn out how Michael wanted it to. He waited for a whole week, but whenever he saw a window of opportunity to say it, it was as if he intentionally avoided bringing it up. There was even an instance where they were so close together—Immanuel needed something removed from his neck, only possible by wiping it off with something damp which they didn't have at that time—that Michael knew they both felt some sort of tension in the air that urged him to act on the blind instruction of desire.

Michael ignored the want to lap on Immanuel's neck with his tongue, and ignored the feeling that Immanuel might've thought of it too, and wanted. After that, his feelings were buried deep inside him until it dissipated and disappeared into the waves of the Waking Sea as they traveled back to the Free Marches.

After that expedition, he tried to write to Immanuel in the Ostwick Circle to check on his well-being and ask for an update on their research. He received a response once, but with an endnote that practically said “We’ll be busy so I can’t be bothered anymore,” and a dismissive thanks.

Well, that’s done, then.

After that, Michael never bothered with matters of the heart and focused on his training, instead. Training for what, he was never certain, but he liked being fast and sharp with bows and daggers. Thankfully, he was the youngest among the four sons of House Trevelyan, and he was never pressured concerning marriage. His parents already had multiple grandchildren, anyway. However, he was sure that his parents would discuss such matters with him in the long run. Something that inspired dread in him—even just the thought of it.

Aaand that's a bit long, innit? It's where I'm stuck now, for over 10 days 🙃 I'm pretty sure I was planning to lead this to the events of DAI bc Dorian but not sure how to proceed.

Anyways, I am tagging y'all amazing people @fancytrinkets, @ineffablewitch, @the-gay-wardens, @noire-pandora, @datrashbitch, @tessa1972, @trashwarden

It's completely up to you whether you want to do this as well, but I also wanted to hear your thoughts about the WIP! Does it have grammatical errors? Is it boring? Any constructive criticisms so far? Bc I definitely need feedback since I've only been writing for a short while and English ain't my first language.

#dragon age inquisition #male trevelyan #WIP #Halp #Will become Pavelyan #It's also my first time tagging people lol #Hullo! #I hope y'all don't mind :3 #For years I've been a hermit and don't know how the world works jk #I want to upload something in my AO3 bc it's been a while 😢 #Whoo this is kinda scary *nervous laugh* #Uhh how to put breaks in mobile 😐 #Sorry for a lengthy post

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//evening petals. yamaguchi tadashi//

Request: Hi! I just wanted to say that I absolutely LOVE your writing you’re one of my favorite imagine accounts 🥺💕 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Yamaguchi where he’s like a prince and he throws a masquerade ball and him and the reader start falling for each other and stuff if that’s ok 🥺😔👉🏼👈🏼

Warnings: brief mentions of premarital holding (i know i know.  I’m filthy)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes:  Me, pulling out all of the obscure knowledge I’ve gained from reading stupid amounts of Victorian era British literature:      👁👄👁

*18th Century Royalty AU?  18th Century Royalty AU.*

This was the last way that Yamaguchi Tadashi wanted to spend his 21st birthday, but he understood.  He was a prince after all.  It was necessary for him to find a wife to sit next to him on the throne, but seriously?  Today of all days?

His parents and the royal staff had been planning this ball for weeks, so it’s not like Yamaguchi could just refuse.  Everyone had worked so hard to make this evening special for him and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.  It was wonderful, really.  Seeing the ballroom of the palace graced in beautiful candlelight, the curtains drawn back so the rose gardens were visible in the slowly approaching dusk, hundreds of people littered around the room, socializing with one another. 

The masks, especially.  It was other-worldly to him.  He probably knew many of the nobles in the room, but with their faces obscured behind the beautifully crafted accessories, he felt like just another person in the room.  For once in his life, he didn’t feel like Prince Tadashi.  He was just- Tadashi.  There weren’t any unnecessary eyes on him.  People weren’t hounding him about trade deals with neighboring kingdoms or trying to appease the future king.  It was so refreshing, being able to move through the crowd without stopping him every few steps to introduce themselves and their entire family.

But, word quickly spread throughout the party as the fingers and whispers became almost impossible to ignore.  “Yes, that gentleman over there.  With the gold Venecian mask.  Yes, that’s him! That’s the prince!” People talked and Yamaguchi knew that it was only a matter of time before he was being swarmed by noblemen.  Everyone in the room knew the true intentions of this party.  It was the opportunity to attempt to get their daughters married away to the most sought after bachelor in the kingdom.  

If I just walk faster, maybe I can-

“Prince Tadashi!”

Shit.

Yamaguchi turned slowly, his smile just visible beneath his half-mask.  “Yes! Hello!  Thank you so much for coming,” he said, bowing gracefully to the gentleman.

The gentleman gave a deep bow, the two young women giving polite curtsies in his presence.  “Your highness, I am Lord Claudius Chavanet of the Gruidor Kingdom.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“No, please! The pleasure is all mine!”

“I would like to introduce you to Lady Catherine Chavanet and Lady Adele Chavanet, my eldest daughters.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Prince Tadashi,” the one in the exquisitely painted cat mask says, holding her hand out, fully expecting Yamaguchi to do something other than just stare and smile awkwardly at him.  Coming to the realization that he should do something, he takes her hand and gives it a firm shake.

“I’m very pleased to meet you too, Miss Chavanet,” he says, continuing to shake her hand enthusiastically.  The girl stares at him with a bewildered expression and pulls her hand away, folding them delicately in front of her.  

Her sister, not wanting to fall victim to the prince’s flustered facade, chooses simply to give him another curtsey.  “Thank you for having us, your highness.  Happy birthday.”

“Thank you for the kind wishes.  Now, if you would excuse me,” Yamaguchi smiles, thankful that his mask covers his flustered cheeks.  Before awaiting their farewells, he has turned on his heels, walking briskly away, desperate to find his parents, his friends, anyone that can maybe shield him from all the unwanted attention.  

“Tadashi!” There’s a sigh of relief from the prince at the familiar voice of his father.  Finally, someone to get me out of here.  Yamaguchi turns to make a B-line for the king, his one escapte, but he was sure the disappointment was evident on his face as there was a literal line of people waiting to talk to the king, or rather, to talk to the prince.

He shook his head, trying his best to pull a smile onto his face, as he approached.  “Father.”  Yamaguchi gives his father a short bow.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, my boy?”

“Yessir.  Thank you for doing this for me.  It’s absolutely amazing!”

“I’m glad to hear it.  However, all of these people have been waiting very patiently to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, I apologize for keeping them waiting.  It was rude of me,” he apologizes, lowering his eyes in shame.  It was not of very princely conduct to keep nobles and other royal families waiting.  His father had made that very clear to him a long time ago.  ‘These people . . . they tend to be very agreeable at face value. But, just as we do, they come to these parties to make powerful connections.  I suggest you keep your most polite head about you whenever they are around.  It could easily cost you the kingdom or, worse, your life if you aren’t careful.’

“Don’t fret too much, Tadashi.  It’s your birthday, after all!  They can wait on you,” his father bellowed, giving him a kind wink.

Tadashi isn’t sure how much time had passed, but he does know that the servants came by three times to offer him a drink and he also knows that he will gladly be taking them up on their offer as his throat had grown dry from endless greetings and polite conversations.  After tonight, he was pretty sure that he was going to be okay never going to another party again.  He met close to a hundred eligible young women and, yet, they all ran together in his head.  That girl over there, was she a Terlee or was she Princess Sakura of the Atalon Kingdom? Wait- or was that Lady Norah Blaisha?  He found himself growing frustrated as he tried to remember who everyone was.  He felt so lousy!  How was he meant to pick someone to marry if he didn’t even know anyone’s name?

His father’s firm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.  “Well, I think that’s everyone.  Anyone catch your eye?”  There was a gleam of hope in his father’s eyes.  His parents have waited a long time for this day.  For the day when he would begin courtship with a young woman, but how was he meant to tell his father that he didn’t remember a single exchange that just happened?

He couldn’t do that.  He couldn’t disappoint his father like that.  Instead, he simply nodded, eyes shut tight in a painfully fake smile.  “Yes, there were a few that I found very agreeable.”

“I’m glad to hear that, son.”

Yamaguchi was ready to ask if he could be excused to go find his friends, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat.  At the edge of the crowd, a young woman sat, her black mask decorated with ornate gold twists and turns of filigree, splashes of little red embroidered roses around the edges.  He’s sure he would’ve remembered that mask.  It was easily the prettiest one that he had seen all evening.  He would’ve complimented it, but Tadashi didn’t remember being introduced to her.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Over there, the girl with the black and gold mask?”

“Yes, I see her.  What about her?”

“Do you know who she is?”  Yamaguchi asks, not taking his eyes away.

“I believe that is the youngest daughter of Lord Sauret.  She’s closer to your age than her sister, but her sister is unmarried and well- you know how it is.”

He did.  The eldest girls were to be married before the younger ones were allowed to engage in courtships, but he couldn’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.  It was the first person to really catch his attention, how could he not introduce himself?

“I would like to be introduced.”

“Tadashi-” his father warns. 

“You’ve said it yourself, connections are vital.  That’s all this is: forming connections.”

The king released a heavy sigh, unable to say no to his son’s pleading eyes.  “Fine.  Come along.  We’ll go find her father.”

In a matter of minutes, Yamaguchi Tadashi was grinning one of his first genuine smiles of the evening as the two fathers introduced their children.  

“Your highnesses, it is my absolute honor to introduce my youngest daughter to you both:  Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N.”  You do a low curtsy as your father introduces you to the members of the royal family, keeping your eyes trained to the floor.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N,” Yamaguchi smiles, bowing deeply in your presence.

“And my son, Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, your highness,” you reply, a polite smile on your face.  

Yamaguchi’s hand went to the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.  Honestly, he didn’t think he would get this far and no one had ever taught him what to do in these sort of situations.  Was he supposed to ask you to dance or should he stay here talking to you?  Does he compliment you?  He was meant to lead the conversation, yet he didn’t even know where to start.  Should he ask if you’re having fun?  No, that would be a bad conversation starter.  

“Do you like roses?” 

Good one, Tadashi.

“I’m sorry?”  Your face contorts into a soft look of confusion as you fail to comprehend his sudden question.

He can feel his face grow hot, averting his eyes awkwardly.  He wishes that he could just hide behind the curtains and disappear like he would do when he was a child.  This was by far the worst social interaction that he’s ever had and last week he said ‘yes, thank you’ when his servant asked what he wanted for dinner, so the bar for bad social interaction had been set pretty high for the prince. “Well, your mask- it has roses.  So, I just wondered.”  

Your hand reaches up towards the mask instinctively, fingers tracing over the little embroidered flowers.  “Oh, right.  My mother used to love them.”

“Really?  What’s her favorite flower now?”

Your face flashes through about a hundred different emotions before finally settling into a look of sadness. 

“Oh my God! Wait- I am so so sorry!  I didn’t think!  Please, forgive me, miss!” Yamaguchi frets, bowing in apology probably thirty times in a matter of seconds.

If he wasn’t desperately pleading for your forgiveness, you probably would’ve been more upset, but you couldn’t deny that his flustered mannerisms were, in a way, sort of cute.  His face was as red as the roses on your mask and he was waving his hands around frantically, muttering that he was ‘so so sorry.’  

Yamaguchi slowly looks into your face when the sound of sweet giggles are coming from your direction.  There’s a smile on your lips that almost instantly soothes him.  It radiates the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day and he can’t help melting as he looks into your shining eyes.  “Have you seen the gardens?”  He asks, returning your gaze, gesturing out the window to the rose garden shining gold in the disappearing daylight.

“That’s why I chose to sit here, so I could look out at them,” you say, nodding slightly.

“Would you like to see them?  Up close, I mean,” Yamaguchi offers.

“Your highness, I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” you ease, eyes flitting over to where your father was engaged in a casual conversation with the king.

The young prince simply shrugs and gives a dreamy sigh, an unknown burst of confidence bubbling up within his chest.  “It’s a shame, really.  The China Roses fully bloomed today and I was hoping to get a good look at them before the sun went down.”  He offers you a sly smile, unfitting of the usually awkward prince.  “But, if you don’t want to see them, that’s okay.  I’m sure I could find someone else to accompany me, but I doubt that they’d be half as breathtaking.”  

In the golden light of the evening, your blush blended in with the medley of colors dancing across your skin.  How could you possibly refuse now?  You reach out, taking his expectant hand, letting him guide you discreetly away from the party and out into the beautiful serenity of the palace gardens.

Tadashi’s head begins to clear as he is finally able to escape the overwhelming bustling atmosphere of the party.  He rids himself of his mask, running a quick hand through his hair, finally being able to breath easily again and drop the ‘charming prince’ act that he was expected to uphold.  He could finally just be Tadashi once more.  

Following his lead, you untie the strings of your mask, letting it fall into your hand.  It’s here, in this moment in time, that Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom wishes that he had the ability to stop the world around him, staying in this frame of life forever.  You weren’t looking at him, examining one of the flowers that hadn’t quite blossomed into its full beauty yet.  In the disappearing daylight, your delicate features caught the fleeting rays, casting a soft orange glow over you.  It was a masterpiece of nature that he wanted to have saved as a portrait forever.  Happiness surrounding every inch of your being as you reveled in the stunning garden that completely encircled you.

So, this is the feeling, huh? The butterflies sneaking up into his stomach and the clouds fogging his mind, but not in the same way that they were when he was at the party.  This was a better feeling.  He wasn’t shrouded with anxieties, worrying about what to say or what to do.  Rather, his head was buzzing with thoughts about how beautiful you look, so undoubtedly happy wandering around his gardens with him.  Thinking that it would be completely inappropriate to kiss you right now, but maybe that could stay here, tucked between petals, protected by thorns.  

But, if it was so wrong, why were your hands on his chest? And why weren’t you pulling away from him?  If it was so socially taboo, why were you kissing him back and why didn’t he want to stop pressing his lips to yours?  

Yet, here, shrouded in the approaching darkness, tender kisses were shared between the glowing evening petals.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #tadashi #royalty au #victorian au #x reader #imagine #FUCK #i want him to look at me the way he looks like yn #its soft yams hours bby #im so soft for prince yamaguchi tadashi of the rozu kingdom after writing this #i am suffering extreme second hand embarrassment tho

[thecleverdame]

This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Two

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta:  ilikaicalie  

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

-

“What is wrong with you?” Dean watches his brother with a skeptical eye. “You’re this worked up about some girl you met in a field?”

“It’s more than that.” Sam looks around, ensuring they’re alone. “She’s an Omega,” he whispers.

“What?” Dean scoffs, then chuckles at the absurdity of it. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“I swear to you.” Sam is earnest, breathing fast and sweating as he looks Dean head-on. “I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.”

“You’re serious…” Dean inspects his brother. “How do you know?”

“Because I could feel her. Like how the air is alive when there’s lightning in the sky. And her scent was incomparable. No Beta has ever come close. And when I touched her, it was-”

“Touched her?” Dean smirks, then whistles. “Things progressed quickly I see.”

“You had to be there to understand, the attraction was consuming.”

“It must have been for you, a crown prince, to fuck some servant girl in the middle of a field.”

“My God.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I didn’t take her dignity there in the dirt. We just...touched.”

“I don’t need to hear any more details.” Dean raises both hands in caution. He shakes his head and pours them both a drink. “How can you be sure she was really an Omega? We’ve never met one before.”

“If you had smelled her, felt her, you’d know. She was breathtaking. I have to find her, Dean.”

“I can’t believe you let her run off.”

“She was out of sight before I could get to my horse and give chase.”

“Why would she run?”

“Any number of reasons.” Sam has given this a lot of thought.  “Perhaps I was too forward. She seemed scared of something.”

“Well, any Omega tucked away in some country home is quite the secret. How old would you say she was?”

“I can’t be sure. Twenty-five, maybe older, perhaps younger.”

“Twenty-five? How the hell has she managed to keep herself hidden for that long?”

Omegas are sought after, snatched up by powerful, wealthy Alphas as soon as they come of age. While Dean has never met one, he’s heard the stories. It’s unbelievable that an Omega would make it past her fifteenth birthday without being claimed, forget twenty-five.

It would, however, make you a perfect match for his brother. Sam has just turned thirty-five and the older he gets the more he suffers. Alphas are meant to pair off, and he should have chosen a Beta long ago. He almost did, several times but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the final commitment. As he’s aged his ruts have grown more intense. If he doesn’t mate soon he’ll begin the descent into something darker, more feral. A primordial throwback to their ancestors and their parents will never allow that. The pressure has been on for some time for Sam to find a wife.

And you, well, once discovered you wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. All Omegas end up as mates to royalty or someone with powerful connections. Out of the options you might have, Sam is the best-case scenario. That goes without saying.

“I hate to say this, but has it occurred to you that someone has been keeping her? A duke or baron has been using her for their own. It could be the reason she ran.”

“I don’t know.”

Sam’s stomach goes tight at the very thought of someone else touching you, hurting you. He can still see your face, those shining eyes, and shy smile. There was an inherent innocence to you, the way you responded to his touch, the way you looked at him.

“I know she was terrified of being in trouble. She said she needed to get home before someone returned.”

“Well, let’s go find her.” Dean shrugs, tipping back the final vestiges of his drink. “We’ll start at the tree where you met her and search all the houses in the area. Shouldn’t take more than a day.”

-

Dean’s plan was a good one, with one exception; Sam can’t find his way back to the spot where he met you.

His rut is days away but in preparation he often goes for long rides to clear his head, leaving at dawn and not returning until after the sun has set. He rode for hours and hours that day, taking every side trail and galloping across meadows. He only stopped when he came across the willow tree because he was starving and needed to eat.

He found his way to you by chance and now he can’t retrace his steps for the life of him.

“Which way do you think you would have gone?” Dean asks. “Use your instincts.”

The brothers sit side by side on horseback. The trail ahead of them forks off in half a dozen directions.

“The far path to the right I think...no wait...I’m not sure.” Sam runs a hand over his face.

Being with you for such a short time only to be ripped away feels like a simmering panic. He has no idea how it’s possible that he wants someone he hardly knows with this passionate desperation, but he does.

“Maybe we should ride back from the castle. Do you remember the way you took to get home? We could backtrack.”

“I don’t think I can.” Sam balls his fist around the reigns. “I rode looking for her for an hour and then came back. I was so worked up, I don’t remember which way was which.”

“Well,” Dean nods, a hand on his hip as he thinks. “Why don’t we go home and talk to our lovely mother. She’ll be thrilled at the prospect of an Omega for you. I’m sure she’ll have a few ideas on how to find her. She always does.”

-

“What’s wrong with you?” Alex snips, tapping at the shell of her boiled egg.

“Nothing,” you murmur, snapping out of your daydream.

“She’s more melancholy than usual.” Claire gives you a smarmy little grin and butters her toast.

“Is there something wrong?” Naomi asks, resting both palms on the table. You shake your head no and pour hot water for her tea.

“Just a bit tired.” You force a smile.

The truth is you feel like death. The herbs you’re forced to drink have always sucked the life from you, but after that afternoon with Sam, it’s only gotten worse. Yesterday you could barely stay awake through lunch. You’re not ignorant. While you don’t know all the ins and outs of what you are, you understand the basic mechanics. Being around an Alpha has awakened something inside you that’s been fighting to get out for some time.

There’s a ring of the bell at the front door and you hurry to answer it. The courier is a young boy. He hands you a message and blows a sweet little kiss before scampering away. You bring the carefully rolled parchment to Naomi.

The royal seal gets her attention. That signature gold melted wax can only mean one thing.

“What is it?” Claire asks.

“Tell us what it says!” Alex chimes in, smacking her fists on the table.  

“Shh,” Naomi hushes them as she unrolls the paper and scans the message. A wide smile blooms across her face. She looks up at her daughters with bubbling excitement. Sitting up straight, she’s unable to contain the terrifying grin across her face as she reads aloud. “King John and Queen Mary cordially invite you to a royal ball in honor of Prince Samuel. Every eligible woman in the kingdom is expected to be in attendance.”

“A ball!” Alex’s eyes light up.

“Can we pick our own dresses?” Claire asks. “I shall wear my red velvet with lace trimming.”

“Do either of you realize what this means?” Naomi hisses, slapping an open palm on the table to silence the room. “They are holding a ball in honor of the prince. They’re looking for a suitable wife. It’s about time, he should have been married off long ago. But other’s poor judgment is our good fortune. My daughters, I need you to understand, you are both excellent candidates, with your background and unmatched bloodline. You are both beautiful young women. A man of his age would certainly be happy to have either of you in his bed.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Alex claps her hands together in excitement. “Well, I shall wear just a simple skirt but put my coat with the golden flowers over it and, of course, there's always my diamond necklace, which is really rather special. I imagine a prince would appreciate understated elegance.”

“Oh my God,” Claire giggles placing a hand over her mouth.

You’re frozen, hearing the sound of chattering voices but absorbing none of it. Two opposing thoughts are swimming in your head.

You let him put his hand up your skirt under a tree in the middle of a field. Any woman with any self-respect would not have invited a stranger to touch her in such a way. You came on the ground like a whore in the streets. A Prince, a man of his social graces would never want a woman who was so willing to offer up her body to the first man that came along. Sam, a man of a certain age, who needs to marry sooner rather than later. Perhaps you were a meaningless little fling before he’s expected to settle down for good.

But there’s also the other possibility. What if he were willing to overlook your scandalous encounter because of what you are? What if he’s expecting you to attend? What if this is his way of looking for you? You can scarcely stand that thought without feeling lightheaded. You felt what he felt, the charge in the air when you were near and the wild excitement when he scented you. Perhaps this is how every Omega responds to an Alpha, you wouldn’t know, but it felt like something special.

“Every eligible woman in the kingdom?” you ask and their voices go silent. The three women stare at you and Alex bursts out laughing. “I just, I’ve never been to a ball. I would like to go.”

“You?” Claire sputters, joining her sister. “Covered in muck and soot! What would you even wear?”

“She’d leave a trail of cinders behind her,” Alex snickers.

Naomi knows the gravity of your question. She understands the power of what you are even when you don’t. Any Omega, despite her title or appearance, would certainly be the first choice for an Alpha prince. And if Sam rejected you there’s a chance the King and Queen would consider annulling the marriage of their oldest son to pair him with an Omega of childbearing age.

She wants this prize for one of her own daughters and she’ll do whatever she needs to ensure you stay as far away from the royal family as possible.

“Y/N, dear,” she offers a sad little pout and extends her hand toward you. “The invitation said all eligible women. You are far from eligible. Look at you, coated in ashes and little more than skin and bones. We wouldn’t want to disrespect such a generous offer by bringing a scraggly little thing such as you, now would we? And I certainly can’t ruin your sister's chances with the Prince. This is serious.”

She only refers to Alex and Claire as your sisters when she wants to make a point.

You nod in silent understanding, holding back tears. It’s likely you will never see your handsome Prince again and you only have yourself to blame. But he’s better off with you. You’re a broken, withering woman whose life has been coming to an end for some time. You were condemned to a lifetime of misery the day you buried your father.

-

For two weeks you live the hell that is preparing Alex and Claire for the ball.

All they talk of is dresses and hairstyles and what other women will be their competition for the Prince’s attention. You try to cover up your disappointment but it gets proportionally more difficult as the date approaches. The longer you’re away from Sam the more the memory of his face fades away, and the less you can remember the details of what he felt like as doubt creeps in.

By the night of the ball, you’ve convinced yourself that you made up some preposterous connection to a man who was hoping to bed a servant girl in the woods. You’ve romanticized a man’s basic urges and created reciprocity that simply cannot exist.

“How does it look?” Alex inquires, reaching for her hand mirror and holding it up.

You slide the last hairpin into place and hold up another mirror for her to inspect your work.

“Oh, it’s actually good.” She eyes herself, pursing her lips in a practiced pout. “Not bad for someone who’s hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You brace your hands together, subduing the tremors.

“I’m next!” Claire runs into the room, pushing her sister out of the chair before taking her place. “Make it quick, we need to leave soon.”

“I’ll work as fast as I can.” Your eyes are heavy. You scrubbed pots and cleaned floors all day. Naomi picked today of all days to give the house a proper cleaning from top to bottom.

“Y/N,” Claire looks at her sister and fights back a chuckle. “Would you like to go to the ball yourself?”

“Please don’t make fun of me.” You whisper. “There’s no way I could go.”

“Quite right too: everyone would laugh to see Cinderbritches at a ball.” Both girls break out in a fit of laughter and you try to focus on her hair, instead of the sorrow swelling up inside you.

“I hate it when you call me that,” you tell them softly.

“Always so sensitive.” Claire rolls her eyes. “Hurry up! I want to get there!”

Once the girls are styled and polished Naomi loads them into the carriage and returns to the kitchen to find you.

“Have you forgotten something?” you ask, wiping your forehead of sweat as you clean a pot.

“Only one thing.” She lifts her chin, mouth in a tight grimace. “Come with me.”

You follow her down into the basement, to your makeshift room amongst the clutter.

“Over here,” she moves to the corner, bending down to pick something up. Once it’s in her hand you realize what it is. A metal chain with a cuff attached to the end.

“Don’t, please,” you panic, stepping back. “I beg you, don’t chain me up.”

“I’ll take the switch to you here and now if you don’t do as I say.”

You could run or fight, but you don’t have the energy for either so you walk over to her and watch as she kneels down and locks the metal around your ankle.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. Tears stream down your face as you let emotion overtake you. “Please, it’s too tight. It hurts.”

“We both know what a sneaky thing you are. I remember what you were like as a girl.” She rubs her hands, looking satisfied.

“I can’t reach the fire from here, or my blankets in the corner. Will you hand them to me?”

“You’ll be fine for one night.” She sneers, looking at you as if the sight of you offends her very senses. “Take this time to think about what and who you are. Knowing her place is the best attribute a woman can have and you are nothing more than a mistake.”

She kicks the toe of her shoe into your stomach with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.  You lie on the stone, writhing in pain and sobbing in despair as the sun sets over the horizon.

-

You wake up to a small squeaking sound. When your eyes flutter open it’s dark. But after you adjust you’re met with the sight of a small white mouse nosing his way around your hand. There are plenty of nasty rats that chew holes in nearly everything, you hate those little beasts, but this small mouse has been coming to you in the evenings for a year now.

“Hello my friend,” you whisper, lying limp on the ground as a fresh tear slides over your temple. “At least I’m not alone tonight.”

You watch as the mouse cleans his tiny face with a pink paw, smiling softly at the sweetness of such a simple thing. If you die down here, at least someone will miss you, a rodent but it’s better than simply vanishing and leaving no trace.

“Hello?” A musical, airy voice calls out from somewhere upstairs. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Wiping your nose you gather your strength, propping yourself on one arm.

“Who’s there?” you yell back.

“Where are you?” The voice asks, getting closer. “I’m looking for Y/N.”

“I’m here.” You wait as soft footsteps descend toward the basement and a petit redheaded woman emerges from the dark with a flickering candle in her hand.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” She looks around and you move to sit as the chain rattles. Her eyes dart to the metal around your ankle. “Now, now, what do we have here?”

“Do you think you can help me?” you ask. “I think my stepmother keeps the key upstairs, in a jewelry box in her room.”

“Don’t be silly dear,” she crouches down, offering a genuine smile. “We don’t need all that.”

She snaps her fingers and sparks fly. In the same instant, the metal cuff falls open. You look at her in astonishment and she just smirks.

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix.”

“What are you?”

“There are many names for what I do, but I don’t like any of them. To you, I’m Rowena, your Godmother I suppose. A sort of, fairy godmother.”

“I don’t understand.” She offers her hand to help you up.

“I’ll explain. Let’s go upstairs to the fire and warm you up.”

Rowena makes you tea and explains that she knew your mother well. They grew up together in Scotland and stayed in touch throughout the years but grew farther and farther apart as time went by.

“I thought it was time I paid you a visit. I never dreamed I’d find the daughter of Ellen and Robert Singer chained up in a dirty coal room.” She pours you another cup of special tea. She insisted you drink it and as you have, the more you perk up, energy building for the first time in a long time. “Where is the lady of the house?”

“At the ball.” You sigh, looking down at the mug in your hands. “Every woman in the Kingdom was invited. The prince is expected to find his wife tonight.”

“Why are you here?”

“Look at me,” you snort. “Sam wouldn’t want to so much as look at me in this state.”

“Sam,” she coos, eyebrows wiggling. “Do I hear a hint of familiarity?”

“We met. It was only once but he was...wonderful.” You blush, swallowing the rest of the tea.

“Well, you must get you back to your prince.” Rowena spreads her arms wide. “We can’t have you sitting here dreaming of a future. You have to go out and make things happen. Take what you want from life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look at me? What would I even wear? I couldn’t even borrow a dress, they would hang off me.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” She smiles, patting your shoulder. “I know a trick or two.”

-

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#sam winchester x reader #alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester smut