#to be fair I was busy being crushed by the fall semester when I came out but still

[liesonthefloordramatically]

You like it when I wear my hair down but I say that way it just gets in my eyes You say that's exactly what you like so much I think that sums us up sometimes

[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 

[cornacopicimagines]

after hours│t.h

pairing: professor!tom holland x reader 

words: 6.9k (hehe nice)

warnings: swearing, PURE FILTH, sir kink, rough sex, masturbation (male & female), exhibition kink if you squint, spanking & sort of public sex.

summary:  It's wrong, y/n tells herself. She can't help it though. She can't help fantasising about him. At the other end of the class, Tom tells himself to stop staring at her. It's creepy, he thinks. Neither one knows of the mutual pining that is until tension bubbles over. 

a/n: I’m back bitches! I'm still a fucking sinner and this is such a cliche, I'm so so sorry

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n sat at the desk. Her eyes never left Mr. Holland. Her attention never left the way the veins in his arms bulged when he picked up the massive textbook, never left his perfectly gelled hair and how it sat atop his head like it was crafted to from the day he was born. Perhaps I should start typing the notes that were on the board, she scowled to herself.

She feels dirty, almost ashamed of her crush on him. She hates herself for falling into a stupid cliché that had been so easy to avoid all these tireless years. y/n doesn't know why she has gone back to a love-sick teenage girl fantasising about a boy who she'll never even get to touch. A boy that so out of her league, he wouldn't even had the faintest idea that she exists. That doesn't stop them though. y/n still finger fucks herself to an orgasm that no boy has been able to give her in her 24 years of life, all the while wishing it was his cock instead of her fingers. If Mr. Holland knew what she did to herself under the influence of him and his stupidly handsome face, he would be disgusted. This she knows for a fact.

This isn't what she thought she would be doing, in all honesty. She is a semester away from graduating and she never wanted to be stuck in a perpetual state of wanting someone so unattainable it's not uneasy, it's borderline unethical. She truly believed she would have ancient married professor that sound like their legs deep in their coffin. Instead she got a literal Greek God as her Psych professor.

She knows that she's not the only one of course. y/n has met 10 other girls in her class that probably write god awful poetry about Mr. Holland's liquid bronze eyes. She can't blame them, if she could write shitty poetry about him, she 100% would. y/n not angry either, she knows out of the 120 students (110 of whom are girls), are probably all in the same predicament. She sometimes gets dirty looks from them when Mr. Holland address her by her first name.

Perhaps that's something she should consider; he calls her y/n not Miss y/l/n or just simply Miss. It's different, it's endearing and when he has a raspy voice, it's so fucking hot.

"y/n," a voice called out, she shook herself out of her haze, "are you still with us?" Mr. Holland was no standing over her. His cologne surrounding her, intoxicating her. y/n gulped softly before turning her eyes to his.

"Yes, sorry sir," y/n replied quickly, trying her hardest not to stumble over her own words or even let the blush run to her cheeks.

Mr. Holland smiled warmly, "that's good, I need at least one of you listening," the class erupting in laughter, "I would prefer it to be one of the brightest." That though got them quiet. y/n sunk into her chair in embarrassment. The blush she had been fighting rose to the surface, making her even more adamant not to look up at him but alas she couldn't.

In that small fleeting moment, she caught something in his eyes. She couldn't define exactly what it was. Whatever it truly was, y/n knew teachers should not be looking at their students in such a way. It made her even more lightheaded with admiration.

The lesson continued on as normal for another hour. Mr. Holland described the outline for the next assignment, it seemed short and sweet. Write a 2-thousand-word essay on the effects of unintentional recreational drugs during early childhood. y/n had to laugh at the way Mr. Holland phrased it. It was as if he had never touch pot in his entire life, to be fair, y/n wouldn't be too surprised if he didn't. Most of the girls in his class groaned at the mere mention of actual work and not an hour and a half session of pure toe-curling orgasm material. Now that she thinks about it, that would be a wonderful way to spend her Wednesday mornings and Thursday afternoons.

Of course, y/n was in another word during the last minutes of the lesson. Unable to focus on anything other than the hint of a tattoo peeking through the underlining of his shirt. She was working so hard to distinguish what it was that she had completely missed the end of the lesson and the dozens of people walking out.

"y/n, what exactly are you doing?" Mr. Holland's voice asked above her. y/n almost jumped in her seat, but she stayed completely still. "This is the second time today, should I be worried?"

This though made her jump out of her seat. "No of course not sir!" She defended as she rushed to place her things away. "I was just off in wonderland today."

"Are you sure there is nothing distracting you?" He asked.

Yes.

"No," she replied hurriedly.

"You know you can tell me if something is," he reassured her.

Yes, of course. Let me just tell you about how you are distracting me by always wearing the hottest casual suits every lesson and giving me the wonderful fantasy of tearing it off you.

"I know that, it's just been my busy schedule," y/n lied through her teeth. She's a broke college student with hardly any friends or real other assignments. "I am just working really hard, you know?"

Yeah, working really hard to imagine you pounding me into next week!

With that last thought, y/n knew she needed to leave before she exploded with embarrassment and arousal right there in front of him.

"I just wanted to let you know that you are totally allowed to change the topic of the assignment if you feel like there is something that strikes a chord with you," Mr. Holland smiled brightly.

Fuck! Did he have to look so gorgeous even when he's trying to be dorky and supportive.

Mr. Holland noticed the shocked look upon y/n's face and immediately retracted his statement, "I promise I won't fail you, if that's what your thinking." He explained. "I really enjoy your work, you're a gifted woman with a real talent and I don't want to see it go to waste with my shitty assignment."

y/n turned her attitude around. He was stumbling over his words. It was kind of cute and endearing, like everything he does. She smiled warmly at his compliment.

"Sir," she spoke softly. It came out a lot mouseyer and somehow sexual than she would have liked but she refused to back out of her statement. "I can't wait."

She didn't say another word but simply slung her back over her shoulder and made her way out of the class. Tom followed her figure in complete and utter shock. He praised whatever god watched over him for the small mercy that was having y/n's back turned to him to witness his immediate blush cover his entire freckled face.

Tom never let his eyes leave her. He just watched her waltz right out of his classroom, he bit his lip at the sight of her perfectly cupped ass in her jeans. Through-out the entire lesson, all he could think about is how her tits would bounce as his dick thrusted up into her little cunt. Just the thought made his cock spring to life.

He stared up at the clock. He had to be in another lecture in 10 minutes, he had to teach another round of student without her pretty face in it in 10 bloody minutes. Sadly, it wasn't enough time to imagine cumming over her said face. He fidgeted until his painful erection was safely hidden.

God, you are such a fucking creep, Holland. He thought to himself.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n really didn't want to be doing this.

She really didn't want to have to walk to the library in a mini skirt she had when she went through her cringy hoe phase and a low-cut tank top she only really wore to bed at 8 at night. Luckily before she left, her roommate gave her a full can of pepper spray and a pocketknife. A handle tool for when you looked like a prostitute.

She had no choice. It was laundry night and she had to get her assignment out of the way, or she would never finish it in time. She wanted to kick herself for letting laundry night fall on the only night the library stayed open until midnight. It was a perk for sure but not when you had nothing to wear but pink neon rags.

y/n pushed open the library door and relieved herself of the anxiety of being abducted by the greeting of Harry. He looked familiar but she couldn't pinpoint where she had seen his face before.

"What cha doing here?" he shouted. Quite contradictory for a librarian. y/n grinned when she saw his dorky face at the counter. That is until he caught wind of her outfit, or lack thereof. "Got a late shift at the strip-club after this?" Her face fell.

"I hate you," she played along, her arms slumping on the cold desk. y/n looked around the library. It was basically empty, with the exception of the middle-aged teacher grading a stack full of papers. Poor bastard, y/n thought. "Got one for me?"

"You're going to get me fired if I do this again," Harry huffed, he banged his head against the keyboard in frustration.

"This is the last time," y/n explained, "I pinkie promise." She lifted her hand over the counter and waved her pinkie finger in Harry's face. He stared up her than move his eyeline to her finger now just touching the tip of his nose. He groaned loudly as he took her finger in his.

"There is a ton of empty booths, choose one and don't make a sound," Harry told her angrily, y/n simply clapped her hands in celebration and skipped off. She chooses the booth in range of Harry, in hopes that maybe he will distracted her and she won't have to do her work because she's too busy goofing off.

y/n dropped her stuff in a huff. Her back slumped into the curve of the chair and the desk covered her body happily. She placed her earphones in and played her favourite study music. She was in absolute heaven.

The assignment was kicking her ass, but she was determined to do it. Mr. Holland seemed genuinely excited for what she would write about if she did decide to change the topic. Now though she's regretting not letting Mr. Holland's hopes down.

She could find hardly anything online and even if she did it was by some random SJW on Tumblr. That's what lead her here tonight. In hopes that maybe some privileged white asshole with a degree would have some sources sighted to help her. Unfortunately, she was having trouble with that too.

It was now 11:30pm. She had been at this god forsaken table for two and a half hours now in an endless pursuit of bullshit. y/n had half a mind to give up and just suck his dick for the grade like other girls would in this situation. y/n had to remind herself though, she is a gifted woman with a real talent that should not be wasted on something shitty to please the masses. Did she just quote Mr. Holland?

She caught eyes with Harry in her block, who had two pencils stuck up his nose in an attempt to cheer her up. It did for the most part. y/n wanted to play along but it had seemed someone else had walked through the door at that very moment and Harry threw the pencils out. Harry's face lit up with red upon the arrival of this mystery person. y/n was interested in who this mystery person was. That is until she saw his face.

Mr. Holland walked up to the library desk in a fit of laughter. His hands smacking the counter and his face contorted in a wide smile. y/n instantly ducked under the table. She could faintly hear their conversation. It just sounded like muffled words until her name popped up.

Jesus Christ. Not now. Not tonight. Why of all night to run into his must it have to be tonight. Maybe I should make a run for it now, bust out of the wind-

"I know you're under there y/n," Mr. Holland's voice sung above her. It was too late now. Any escape plan that her mind frantically tried to rationalise was long gone by this point. Slowly, y/n retreated from her hiding spot to face him. He had his normal outfit of a tight t-shirt paired with a decorative tie and slightly lose pants. This time though he had a long burgundy coat draped over his shoulders. He looked like a painting. y/n smiled sheepishly.

"Hi," she said simply. Regaining her seat from before and fully appearing in front of him. "I had no idea you would be here this late," she tried with conversation.

"Harry's my brother, I have to drive him home before leaving myself and he just wanted to work the late shift tonight," Tom laughed to himself and he turned around and waved at Harry. His brother waved back guiltily. "You know, I could say this same to you," he smirked at her.

"I am working on your assignment, sir," y/n responded quietly. Tom's eyes lit up at that and he rushed to snatch the papers off her desk and into his hands. Much to the disapproval of y/n.

"Oh good, you've decided to change it," Tom sounded almost relieved as if he trusted her judgement more than his own. Worse of it all, he decided to sit down next to her. Even taking off his coat, making his biceps bulge through his shirt. His eyes flicked through what she currently has. His eyebrows raised in shock, "I have to say, I was not expected you to decide to do something about the female orgasm and its effect on the psyche," his voice was an octave deeper than usual. y/n could feel her arousal building.

y/n couldn't decide if he was just being friendly or if he was trying to send a deeper message. Either way, she decided to take action. "Well, with the number of women being unsatisfied I thought it was an appropriate topic," she snatched the papers out of his hands, "but you wouldn't know anything about women being unsatisfied would you sir?"

Tom sat there in astonishment. His cock stiffened against the restraints of his jeans, he has only been in her vicinity for 5 minutes and already she has him hard as a rock. It was times like these that he wished he could just leave all his determination to fuck her over this very desk at the door. Regrettably, he couldn't.

"Well, that just ruins the surprise," y/n sighed delicately. Her fingers flicking through the pages of her useless book. "Either way, the resources are complete shit," this time her sadness was real, and Tom snapped out of his lust-ridden haze.

"Did you really expect a man to know mostly everything of something that is so cardinally female?" Tom smirked as he closed the book on her and pointed to the photo of a wrinkled old man. He was the author of a stupid book and to be fair, he looked like he would write this type of book as well.

"Damn, I knew I was doing something wrong," y/n hissed. She had been spending her entire night trying to piece together information from a man who can only give her half the story.

"The book on the top shelf is one on the chemical effects of orgasming in females by a female," Tom leaned in and whispered in her ear. His hot breath wafted of her skin; it was enough to send goose bumps over her entire body. y/n turned her head to face him, their lips inches away from each other. If they didn't have Harry watching them like a hawk, they probably would be out of breath from lip-locking. Instead, y/n nodded and got up out of her seat, making sure to give him a stunning view of her tits through her tank top. He wanted to audibly gasp but kept in inside. It didn't help with his situation downstairs any more than the last few minutes have.

Slowly, she walked over to the bookcase. Her eyes scanning the endless rows and she made sure Tom had enough time to enjoy the deep red thong underneath her skirt. Finally, her fingers coiled around the book and brought it down to her. Tom couldn't believe his own eyes. He was so under her spell. The way her top hugged her curved and let his eyes completely drink in her breasts. How her skirt was pulled up to her waist, allowing the flushed skin of her ass to be visible to him. He wonders how a woman like her even exists and yet she takes a seat next to him, absolutely unaware of his throbbing manhood. Begging to be touched by her, to be taken by her, by anything to do with her.

"Thank you, sir," she almost purrs to him, Tom's struggling to keep it together. He afraid the next thing to slip out of her flawless mouth, he'll cum straight into his pants when he would rather cum into her.

"Anytime," he responds just a dark before getting up. Hiding his clearly hard cock behind his briefcase. "I'll see you in class?" He already knows the answer, but he just wants the last bit of assurance from her.

"Of course," she smiled warmly. With that Tom basically books it, he's frantically making sure he's well-hidden as he quickly bends over the counter.

"I'll come back to pick you up in 30, I forgot some paper work back in my office," it's so fast, Harry almost doesn't have time to translate it before Tom's out the door and rushing down the hall.

At one point, he basically running to get to his office. Feet tapping against the concrete as he continues to see nothing but flashing images of y/n. It blurs his vision and he's so desperate. He considers using a spare supply closet but know he will only get complete privacy in his own office.

He finally gets there, after what seems like an eternity of running. He checks the hallways before entering. He drops all of his things at the foot of the door. He even has the decency to hang his coat upon the rack. Tom slowly walks over to his chair. It's a rough leather material and usually he would refuse to do what he's about to do in here, it will be stained with the memory but at this point. He got no fucks left to give.

He crashes down. His back hitting the material he hates so much. He doesn't think he's got time, but he still does it slowly. His belt drops next to his and he undoes the zip slowly and the cold air hits his dick. He hisses at the feeling but proceeds anyways. Tom pulls the rest of his jeans and boxers down his legs and kicks them across the room. His hand takes his dick, slowly rubbing the head. Imaging y/n's fingers dancing over it, spreading the precum over. He uses his palm to envision her own stroking up and down in an even motion. He can't help but moan. He can't help but softly call out her name.

He so entranced that he doesn't recognize the following light footsteps approaching. He's so into her non-existent touch that he doesn't hear the door peacefully squeak open. He's so in love with the feeling he doesn't feel y/n walk around the room to get on her knees in front of him.

She's in glory of his movements. Watching him stroke his much bigger cock than her masturbation version has her in a hurry to get her own panties off her body and across the floor. She's sure she's dripping onto the wood below but she does have single care in the world. Tom has his head thrown back in ecstasy as his hand starts to speed up, that's when y/n decides to go for the kill. She licks a long strip up his shaft. Her hands stabilizing him by placing them atop his bare thighs.

Tom almost jumps out of his chair. He had no idea she caught him in the middle of something so vile and wrong. Better yet, she had caught him with the tip of his dick around her perfectly glossed lips. He doesn't get to say another word before y/n's hands begin massaging the bottom of his manhood. It's slow to begin with, it's almost if she's easing him into it. Her cheeks hollow out to allow his length into her warm mouth. It's incredible. Tom can't help but buck his hips up into her throat causing her to gag slightly. It's a sound he wants more of.

His hands ball her hair into his fist. With the faster her movements become, the harder he fucks into her mouth. They sync up almost instantly. One of y/n's hands leave his cock to fuck herself. Tom's mesmerised by the way her fingers act as a replacement for his dick. He's certain he's not going to last much longer.

"I should be d-doing that," he whispers through grunts. y/n lifts her head to smile at him, still letting her free hand jerk and pull bringing him closer the edge.

"I know," she responds, just as quiet. Her mouth reconnects but Tom quickly snaps his hips up into her. Her muffled moaning vibrated against his cock as he fucks her mouth. It's the hottest thing he's ever done. He tugs and pulls at her hair, y/n's edging him on. She's exquisite, it's like she's mastered this and has allowed him to chance to feel how fucking beautiful her little mouth can be.

Like it's effortless, he comes. Without any warning, he is shooting hot stream of cum into her mouth, filling it up. Tom swears he's seeing stars but can't bring him to call out her name but instead bites down on his hand so hard he's afraid he's drawn blood.

y/n releases him from her mouth and is from an actual porn Tom spent his teenage years watching, his cum leaks from her lips and falls down on the curves of her tits. It's a sight he was to remember forever. He wants to grab his phone and click so he will get to look at her covered in his cum for the rest of his life but alas, he's still regaining his bearings.

"Tastes better than I would have expected," y/n giggles as she brings the liquid back up to her lips and swallows. There is no way this woman gets better; he thinks to himself.

"Sweetheart-," he begins but she beats him to it, her gets back on her feet and plants a sweet kiss upon his lips. He can taste himself on her lips, it's addictive.

"I wanted this," it's almost as if she read his mind. He doesn't respond but he simply looks at her, his hand coming up to twirl a strand of hair that has fallen in front of her face.

y/n pulls away from him, walking over the pile of discarded clothes and bend to pick up her soaked underwear. She gives Tom a look, he's so close he can smell her juices from his seat. Her pussy look like a paradise waiting to be exploded by him, but he keeps his hands to himself. y/n paced herself over to the coat hanger, her folded panties in hand. She places them in the left pocket with a devilish smile upon her face. Tom had now place their rest of his clothes back on and had joined her.

"I'll get them back next lesson," y/n grins. Tom nods quickly, their feet fumbling under her back hits his office door. She's trapped in between him, he smells of pure sex but she's committed to her idea. He bends down to capture her lips in his with a forceful kiss. It's hungry and needy. She wants it so badly to give but she pulls away. "My roommate is waiting for me outside."

"We'll finish this," Tom whispers as he opens the door for her. It sends shivers down y/n's spine. It's not a promise, it's an order.

She grabs the rest of her things and heads off. Almost in a sick turn of events, Tom watches her bare ass strut away from him. Just like the last lesson, except this time all he can do is imagine him face fucking her. It's a beautiful sight.

━━★✼☆｡

The three days leading up to class where probably the slowest 72 hours both of them had ever experienced. A constant detail of pleasure from the night before. So when the fated day arrived, both parties didn't know what to do. Tom debated just staying home, though he couldn't deny he so desperately want just another taste. He thought, if he didn't show up, all his guilty conscience of a student giving him the best head he's ever had in his life would simply disappear and he would go back to being a normal teacher. y/n, too, thought of skipping this class for a completely different reason. Perhaps she had got a surge of confidence after hearing her professor call out her name while he touched himself or it could just be the pure scandalous nature of it all. Either way, she wanted to stay cooped up with a blanket while she watched him unravelled. No matter the psyche from the both of them, they went.

y/n stood outside the classroom for a good 20 minutes, unsure of what she should do. Should she go in now and fuck him in the small window or wait and play with his emotions? She hadn't realised how fast the time had went until she saw other student's start entering. It was now or never and unfortunately it was going to be now.

The room was smaller than y/n remember when she stepped in. It seemed more wide the last time she came in here. Of course, the last time she came in her, she hadn't sucked Mr. Holland's cock.

Her eyes landed on him in a matter of seconds. His back was turned to her as he wrote on the massive blackboard in front of him. y/n could see his muscles flex as he tried to reach for the duster above the board. She bit her lip as she thought of her nails digging into his back as he fucked her. It was a fantasy she had to push to the side.

Tom could practically smell her once she walked in. It was her normal perfume that had been intensified 10 fold. He refuses to turn around, afraid that if he did all his good heart nature would go out the window. Tom could hear the faint clinking of the heels of her shoes walk up the stairs. He so desperately wanted them to come right back down.

"Okay, as you know, you're assignment is due in 2 weeks and this is going to be the only time I will answer your questions," Tom's voice boomed. He hadn't got a lot of sleep since that night and he didn't particularly want to do this but he considered himself a kind professor, so he had too.

He turned around and saw the entire class' hands go straight up in the air. Including y/n, though hers was a little lower. Her eyebrow raised and a small smirk painted on her lips. There was no way in hell he was answer whatever question came out of those pretty lips. She looked even more exquisite than when he last saw her. A tight t-shit that had a stained 50's logo on it and a pair of tight black jeans, he knew as soon as he spoke to her, he would loose all control on himself.

So he never did, constantly dodging her. Answering every single question, even if half of them were if he was married or worse if he was free Friday night. He will admit, seeing y/n get frustrated every time he passed her to talk to another young female student made him just that tad bit excited.

It was an hour and a half of pure tension. Sure, no one else in the class could feel it but they 100% could. She never felt more out of control and for some reason, she despised it. He kept ignoring her, kept refusing her, kept defying her. It was infuriating, that she wanted to take fate by the hair.

She waited, until every single soul had walked out of the door. She waited until the last gaggle of girls had finished their blabbering to Tom before she starting to strut down the stairs. Tom refused to meet her eyes even when he knew that's all she did. Glare at him as she stomped past him desk to the classroom door. He heard it lock.

"I wanted to ask you a question," she almost spat, "sir."

Tom straightened himself before swivelled around to meet her. She was so livid with him but he knew deep down that all she wanted from him was to have the white chalk from the board rubbed up her back from him pinning her down.

"Fire away," he responded exactly the same. She stared at him for a moment before strolling towards him. She made sure to swing her hips every other time. She noticed his eyes on her, finally she was getting somewhere.

y/n pressed her chest upon his heaving one. Her face lifting to meet his. They stayed like that for a good minute, just pondering. They listened to each other's heats thumping against their rib cages. They both desperately needed this.

Never taking her eyes off him, y/n snaked her hand around the side of pocket of her coat, smiling once she found what she left. Her soaked red thong, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"I wanted to ask if I was every going to get payback?" she giggled softly. Tom knew she was playing a game but he had no idea which one it was.

"I don't think I understand," he stammered, she strutted away from him until she met the edge of his stainless desk. Her fingers gliding over the wood ever so slightly. She turned her head to look at him. She had a rawness in her eyes; lustful, a sinner's stare. It would be a look Tom was never forget for the rest of his life.

y/n suddenly jumped on the desk. Her ass moving the papers to the side as she slowly started to unbutton her tight jeans. "I think you do," it was almost a hiss but he only heard the desperation in her voice. "I want you to make me feel all the things you did that night."

Tom almost fainted just with that until she dropped her jeans the floor. She had come to class without any underwear on and her wetness was dripping onto the desk. Tom was sure was in heaven but he didn't want to believe it.

He got on his knees. His hands palming at her soft thighs. Tom didn't need another incentive, he didn't need another spur-on. Tom licked a single strip up her folds, y/n bit a moan back. It was like tasting ambrosia or doing cocaine for the first time. He needed more, so he went back in again, this time it was rougher. His fingers gripping at her ass, pulling her closer to his mouth as he devoured as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Her hands tangle themselves in his floppy curls, she tugs harshly on his scalp as he adds a finger into her warm entrance.

Tom's never felt like this before but he doesn't care. He's sure people can hear her soft but frantic moaning from outside, but he doesn't care. He'll never look at his desk the same way but like everything else, he doesn't fucking care. Tom curls his fingers in the perfect spot inside of her.

"Just like that," y/n calls out, her hair now sprawled out on the desk. "I'm going to cum sir."

Tom feels her walls contract around his fingers as he pulsing faster, her back arches and she trying so hard to force her cries back into her throat. It's a sight he wants to from above, it's a feeling he wants to feel inside of her. So, at the last minute, he retracts everything. His tongue leaves her throbbing clit and his finger, which are glistening with her slick, slid out of her.

y/n can't hold back to whine that leaves her left from the loss of his god-like tongue and fingers. "What the fuck Tom?!" she's angry with him, she wants to tell him off but before she can do it. One of his hands captures her wrist and slams them against the desk below her, pinning her to it. She whimpers at the sting of pain.

He's right above her but she can't see a single thing below her. "Look at me," he tells her sternly, she does what's she is told instantly. "You can't talk to me like that sweetness," y/n knows there is a venom behind his words even if she speaks in a melody. "I'm not your fucking boyfriend, you don't call me that."

Without any warning at all, he pounds right up into her. y/n almost spasms out of Tom's grip from the wave of pleasure. Tom doesn't move at all, he stays nuzzled inside her. It's agonising, almost painful for y/n. Having his perfect cock not jamming into her tight cunt. It's torture.

"You understand that?" he peppers kissed against the nape of her neck, she's about to cry out, she'll do anything. She nods her head frantically, hoping it's enough. It isn't. He keeps his hips locked tightly against hers. "Words, sweetness."

"Yes," she responds. She can feel him frown against her skin. He pulls right out of her and rams right back in, causing y/n to scream out in pleasure. "Y-yes sir," she corrects herself and with that, Tom starts a pace. It's slow and tantalising, he watches amazed at how her pretty folds swallow him up with every thrust. It's magnificent.

He wants to savour this moment forever. He wants to fuck her brains out for every waking moment of his existence.

"Sir, go harder," she moans below him. Her wrists bruised from his gripped, but the pain just only contributes in her overwhelming amount of pleasure. His thick cock is so much better than her fingers, no matter how many she adds.

Tom obliges and starts to really pound into her cunt. It's raw and ruthless, he's calling out her name now. "Fuck sweetness, you so bloody tight," he purrs, y/n can't respond through her chant of curses. "You're little cunt was made for me, it was made for me to stretch it out."

The dirty talk elevates her, y/n's not sure how much longer she'll last. His filling ever last inch of her. She can feel her tits bounce every time their skin collides. Her wrists are finally let free as he begins to clutch at her naked hips. It's an experience she's never felt. The sound of skin slapping and their combined gasping and cursing are the only thing she can perceive to hear. If there was a knock at the door, y/n knows she would have no idea about it.

Perhaps, it's the pure excitement and morality of this whole situation that makes them both feel like they're on cloud nine. Her arms snake around his waist, her hands move with every rough thrust into her. She's gripping onto his back through the material of his tight shirt. Her nails clasping on the contracting muscles. She would have left his back red and sore if he didn't have the damned t-shirt on to protect him.

"Fuck," she curses as he started to hit an area inside of her, she never knew existed. "Just like that sir, I am going to cum," she moans, her forehead against his. They lock eyes again, this time though there is no linger feeling of want or romance. It's just sex. Dirty, hot, intense fucking.

She's the first to come undone. The fire now transformed into a raging wildfire spreading across her entire abdomen. y/n throws her head back in ecstasy, her whole vision goes black and she has to bit down against her hand to stop and inevitable pornographic scream to jump out of her mouth. Her other hand clutches his neck, pulling him closer to her.

Tom follows shortly after, his thrusts become sloppy and erratic but never easing up. His cock twitches inside of her before he shots the hot white liquid all inside of her cunt. He pressed his lips against her as his attempt to stop his moan as well but he continues to call out her angelic name against her lips. Once, Tom pulls out of her, he watches in awe. The mixture leaks out of her hole and then pools on his desk. He's so in love with this woman it hurts.

"I have never cum that hard in my entire fucking life," she giggles, pulling her top down her flushed tits. As he too, starts to redress himself, he simply stares at her. Watches her retrieve her jeans from the floor and slip them up her bare ass. He spots her shove her panties back into his back pocket, not before she scribbles something down on a torn piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. She nuzzles her face in the crook of her.

"I'm giving you a reason to come make me dinner and then fuck me again," she explains, "I put my address in there, so hopefully you can't get lost."

"You sure about this," Tom asked hesitantly, y/n now swivelled around to face him. Her warm palm caressed his face.

"I wouldn't have just done that if I wasn't," she places a soft, tender kiss to his cheek. "Make it a Thursday though, my roommate will be out on those nights," she told him as he grabbed the last of her things and unlocked the door. Tom grins warmly as she makes herself presentable for the last time. "I would clean that up if I were you," y/n laughed, pointing at the obvious mess all over his desk before quickly exiting.

As she wobbled back to her dorm, she wondered what article of clothing she should leave out on their next escapade.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: this is gonna flop, i just fuckin know it 🥴 anways i hope you enjoyed my fic that has ended my hiatus. see you (hopefully) soon 🥺

[angelsfalling16]

Love You So Much It Hurts

My first ever FirstPrince fic! It was a little rushed, but I hope you all like it!

Summary: Henry is finding it difficult to keep his feelings hidden for any longer, and when Alex confronts him to find out why he's acting so weird, the truth comes out.

Word Count: 2333

Day 1 of Tropetember: friends to lovers au

Read it on ao3

***

Henry has just about had enough. Alex is extremely infuriating, and it’s going to push him over the drink. Drive him into complete insanity and an early grave. Somehow, Alex is oblivious to all of this.

They’re supposed to be studying for midterms next week, but instead, they’re sprawled out across Alex’s bed as he drones on about one of his classes and some kid in the class who is always trying to outdo him. Usually, Henry wouldn’t mind listening to him and would be actively trying to engage with him in the conversation, but today, he’s too busy trying to focus on making sure his heart doesn’t beat out of his chest.

“Hey, are you alright?” Alex asks abruptly, apparently sensing that Henry hasn’t been paying attention to him for the past few minutes.

“Yeah. I think I’m just tired.”

“Then, take a nap,” he suggests. “You look cozy enough in my bed, and I don’t mind.” The offer shouldn’t be weird, but it does weird things to Henry’s chest. It wouldn’t be the first time this has happened.

Neither of them have ever had the best sleep schedules, so they took naps when and where they could, including in each other’s beds. And yes, that occasionally meant waking up with their arms around each other because there wasn’t quite enough space for them to spread out comfortably.

It wasn’t something they ever really talked about. It was just something they did. Even after Henry came out to Alex during his junior year of high school. Alex made sure that he knew they were still friends and that nothing was going to change between them just because Henry liked guys.

Henry was both relieved and a little wounded by that. On one hand, he was glad that Alex was neither angry nor disgusted with him. On the other hand, he was harboring a huge crush for his best friend, and it hurt to know that he would never feel the same way.

And right now, those feelings have only gotten worse, and it feels wrong to sleep in Alex’s bed. Like maybe he’s taking advantage of him or something.

“I thought you had a date tonight. With Sheila. Or was it Shane?” Definitely something that started with a ‘sh’ sound. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Don’t worry. That won’t be a problem.”

“Don’t try to pretend like Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t fuck on the first date. You and I both know that that is far from the truth. That’s practically all you do.” He accidentally lets a little bitterness slip into his tone, and Alex gives him a weird look.

“I, uh, just meant that I could go to their place instead.”

“Oh. Right.” Henry hadn’t thought about that. In fact, he very much tried not to think about who Alex went home with because that only tore new and deeper wounds into his heart.

He’s honestly not sure how much more of this he can take.

Alex is his best friend in the whole world, but maybe living together was a mistake.

It’s not like he hasn’t known since forever that he has feelings for Alex, but this is different. It’s like something has shifted between them ever since they moved into this apartment together. It just kind of made sense. Alex is in his second year of college and Henry his third, and they knew that they could get along because they practically lived at each other’s houses when they were younger. 

But something about spending most of their time together and seeing sleepy Alex in the morning pre-coffee every day has caused him to fall in so deep that he knows he has no hope of every getting out of this hole he has dug for himself. And when Alex came out to him as bi shortly after they moved in together, Henry allowed himself to fill with hope. Maybe Alex could like him after all.

But then he kept bringing home someone new every week, whoever had caught his eye in one of his lectures, and it started to hurt.

Henry is in love with him, and he can’t pretend like that doesn’t have some effect on their relationship. Like it doesn’t kill him to see Alex with someone else, especially these people who don’t deserve someone as incredible as him.

“You know, I could always cancel and stay home,” Alex says, placing a hand on his arm.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because something is obviously upsetting you, and I hate to leave you alone in this state.”

Henry shakes him off and slides off the bed. “I’m fine. I’m not actually tired anymore. I think I’ll go study in my own room. Have fun on your date tonight,” he adds politely.

He shuts himself in his room but doesn’t sleep or study. He just slumps to the floor against his door and tries to find a solution for all of this.

He could move out at the end of the semester. Transfer schools and never talk to Alex again.

That’s a terrible idea, he knows. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them, but especially Alex, who hasn’t actually done anything wrong.

He just can’t seem to think rationally when it comes to Alex. He makes him so mad that he wants to hit him, but he also wants to kiss that infuriating grin off his face. He wants to fall asleep next to him and make him breakfast in the morning. He wants to take him on a romantic date and then make him forget about every other person he has ever had in his bed. He wants to make Alex his.

But he can’t because Alex doesn’t see him that way, and he has to find a way to deal with that before it wrecks their friendship.

***

A little over an hour later, there’s a knock at Henry’s bedroom door. That’s weird. Alex never knocks. He usually just comes blazing in, talking a mile a minute, barely giving Henry any time to catch up. But when Henry opens the door for him, he’s unusually quiet.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your date?”

“Yes, but I canceled because there is something more important that I need to do.”

“And what would that be? Find someone better looking?” Henry asks, hating himself for the way that his jealousy makes him act. He turns away from the door and goes to sit on the end of his bed, putting some distance between them.

“Noo,” Alex says slowly, giving him another weird look. “I need to be here for my best friend. Even if he is mad at me for some reason. Seriously. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. It’s like I told you earlier; I’m just tired.”

“You’re always tired, which is terrible, and I wish you would get more sleep. But this is more than that. You’ve been avoiding me for a while now and acting really weird about me dating people. I hate to have to ask this, but are you actually not okay with my being bi? Does it bother you?”

“What? Of course not. I accept you fully for who you are, and I’m glad you told me.”

“Then what’s going on? Because I spent the last hour running around the block and trying to figure out what I did to upset you, and that was all I could come up with.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Not everything is about you, remember? This is something that I have to deal with on my own.”

Alex steps farther into the room and settles on the edge of the bed, close enough to Henry to touch him but not close enough that it will be accidental.

“You don’t have to go through anything on your own. I’m here and I care about you, and I would do anything to make you happy.”

“I know, and that’s why I—.” Henry just barely cuts himself off before he just comes out and says the one thing he has been trying so hard not to say. “I just don’t want to burden you with this. It would ruin our friendship, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“God, Henry. What’d you do? Kill someone?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then what could possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me? We tell each other everything, even the truly embarrassing things we wish we could forget. What could possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me?”

Henry groans and pulls at his own hair. He can’t do this. He can’t tell him the truth. But he can’t keep hiding it from him either. He has to make a decision. So, with a deep breath, he makes it.

“I’m in love with you.”

He can’t bear to look at Alex, doesn’t want to see his expression and know how disgusted he is with him. He wonders if it’s too late to take it back but doesn’t want to. Even though he knows the destruction that those five words can cause, he’s glad that they’re out there. It was killing him to keep them in. He just wishes Alex would say something so that he knew whether or not he should start packing his things.

Finally, Henry glances over at him, and he’s just sitting there looking stunned. Henry thinks that, maybe for the first time in his life, Alex is absolutely speechless. He never thought he’d see the day. He only wishes it wasn’t due to what he just said.

“Look, it doesn’t have to change things. I mean, I know it will change some small things. But like, we can still be friends. If you want.” He’s rambling in a fashion very unlike him, but he can’t seem to stop. “Or I can leave. I never meant for you to find out, and I don’t want it to ruin things. But if you’re weirded out by it, I get it.”

“Just. Give me a minute to process. And don’t go anywhere. The last thing I would ever want is for you to leave,” he says earnestly, finally looking at Henry.

Henry nods. He doesn’t want him to leave so that’s something. That’s better than telling him to get out of his sight and never return. It’s already better than the way that Henry’s family acted when they found out he was gay; they just pretended not to hear him. Only his sister acknowledged him, accepting him fully and helping him move out as soon as he graduated high school. He still doesn’t talk to them that much, which is why he’s so fucking terrified of losing Alex.

He’s part of his family. He just hopes he hasn’t screwed that up by loving him too much and passing a line he shouldn’t have.

When Alex is presumably done processing, he reaches out to place his hand over Henry’s. Which doesn’t tell him anything.

They’ve held hands before. But it didn’t mean anything. They were always really close, almost like brothers, except not because Henry couldn’t keep his stupid gay heart from falling for him.

“So. You’re in love with me?” Alex finally says.

“Yes. I do believe we’ve established that already.”

“I know. I just.” He pauses and takes a breath. “Do you know how I realized I was bi?”

“By getting drunk and hooking up with some random guy?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and smiling a little. “Because I moved in here with you, and during the first week of living together, I saw you step out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel slung over your hips, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all of that exposed skin and how badly I wanted to touch it. Then I went to some stupid party and got stupid drunk and made out with some random guy with blond hair that was nowhere near as soft as yours. But all that time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I was so terrified of what it all meant, not because it meant that I liked guys but because it meant that I liked you. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

It’s Henry’s turn to smile as he realizes what Alex is saying. “So, basically, we’re both idiots.”

“Um, speak for yourself. I’m doing great in my classes.”

Henry laughs and shoves him. But then he keeps one of his hands on him, wrapped around his arm, not wanting to let go.

“I had no idea you liked me. You were always with someone else, and I hated it,” Henry admits quietly.

“Hey, look at me.” Alex brings his hand up to gently cup Henry’s jaw and tilts his head so that their eyes meet. “None of them meant anything to me. They were just a way for me to try to forget about you. Of course, it didn’t work because every time they left, you were still there looking gorgeous as all hell.”

The corner of Henry’s mouth quirks up. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“Yes. And I love you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize it.”

Henry shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Alright. Well, can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” So he does, taking Henry’s face in both of his hands before pulling him down into the best kiss he’s ever had.

It’s soft at first as they tentatively learn each other’s mouths. Then, Henry sighs and Alex slides his tongue over his lips, and the kiss deepens.

It’s everything that Henry has ever dreamt of and more. It’s perfect.

He’s not entirely sure this means that they’re a couple now, but he hopes it does. For the moment, though, he’s content to wrap himself around Alex and kiss him until they both forget where they are.

Henry loves him and Alex loves him back, and that’s all that matters right now.

[moldisgoodforyou]

take a break (ii)

wordcount: 1.8k

warnings: cursing

part one

____

Around midnight that night, Rafe and Sophie were at the back-to-school party and Sophie was pleasantly surprised with how normal it all felt between the two. She told herself she fit in more wearing a minidress, knocking back lukewarm Coors Light in an old college basement rather than wearing a cocktail dress, drinking expensive vodka in a mansion. She didn’t let herself drink too much, afraid she’d spill her thoughts to Rafe. He did enough drinking for the two of them throughout the night and was thriving in the crowd with a bravado that came far too natural to him. 

“How do you feel about me, really?” Rafe asked Sophie, slurring just a little. He had his lips brushing her ear to be heard over the crowd and was leaning into her against the wall. “What do you mean? I like you, you know that.” She pushed his chest gently, making him stand straight again. 

“No, for real. Because I have something important to tell you, but I need to know how you feel.” He leaned close again and she felt uneasy, trying not to let herself overthink what he might mean. “Rafe, not now.” 

He frowned. “I wanna tell you. It’s special.” 

“Then tell me later. Only if you mean it.”

After he had tripped over a stray lamp cord and nearly took Sophie down with him, James and Colin had been watching Rafe, ready to save him from embarrassment. They’d been listening in and intervened when they heard the topic he brought up. “Rafe, dude, come get water with us.” (Everything had to be phrased as a group suggestion - drunk Rafe never accepted commands.) 

Rafe paused, glancing back and forth between them and Sophie. “No, I want Sophie to come, I gotta tell her.” 

“I don’t think you do.” Colin shook his head and grabbed Rafe’s arm, trying to pull him away.

Rafe huffed and flailed his arm out of Colin’s grip. “Fine, fine! Soph, baby, you gonna be okay?” She laughed and gave him a gentle push. “I’ll be just fine, I think you should go with the boys. Sounds fun.” He nodded and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Okay, but I’ll be right back. Don’t leave me.” 

“Won’t, promise. Go.” She shot a grateful smile to Rafe’s roommates and James grinned, giving her a cheesy salute as he tugged Rafe away to the kitchen. Colin rolled his eyes as he followed behind, then handed Rafe a bottle of water the second they walked in. “Here, drink.” 

“No, no, I’m good. I’m great.” Rafe pushed away the bottle, opting to take a long gulp from his solo cup instead. 

“That’s fine, I bet James can drink it faster anyways.” Two seconds after Colin handed the bottle to James, Rafe snatched it out of his hand and chugged the whole thing, crushing it in his hand. “Look! I did it.”  

“There we go.” James nodded. “Old tricks always work.”  

“Hey, guys.” Rafe accepted a White Claw from Colin, the boys figuring it was mainly water anyways. “I’m gonna tell Sophie I love her. Tonight.”

“Hell no you’re not.” Colin laughed. 

“You don’t wanna do that buddy, you’re better than that.” James shook his head, moving to block the kitchen door just in case Rafe made a run for it. 

Rafe frowned. “S’not fair. I’ve felt it for months now and I don’t wanna say it if she won’t.” 

“Months? I thought you told us you knew after formal. Which was early. It’s still early.” Colin added, ever-practical. 

James shrugged. He had been dating his high school sweetheart long-distance for three years now and was the hopeless romantic of the three. “That doesn’t matter. If you know, you know. That’s fine. But we’re not gonna let you make a fool of yourself for it, Rafe, you’re drunk off your ass right now.” 

“Drunk on my feet.” Rafe corrected, looking a little smug. 

“Sure, drunk on your feet. I was thinking about heading home, you wanna walk home? You’re too old to be missing classes for being hungover, even during syllabus week.” Colin reasoned. 

“Can I say ‘bye to Sophie?” 

“Just good night, no L-word.” James told him, and Rafe nodded. “No L-word.” 

The three made their way back out from the kitchen and Rafe found Sophie quickly, greeting her with a misplaced kiss on the corner of her lips. “Sophie, we’re gonna go home. No L-word though.” 

“No...what?” She asked with confusion as James smacked his forehead. “I can’t hear you, Rafe, it’s too loud.” 

“Good, we’re just gonna take him home!” Colin jumped in quickly, letting Rafe kiss Sophie again before tugging him away. Sophie watched them go, amused but utterly confused, hoping she was just assuming things too quickly from earlier.

_

After a week back at school, Sophie had hardly talked to Rafe. Her head spun  every time she speculated on what he might have been trying to tell her, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it. She tried to be subtle about pushing Rafe off, giving him shorter responses over text and making excuses when he asked to hang out. It wasn’t working. 

“Something’s wrong.” Rafe announced to his roommates, frowning when he received another half-hearted reply from Sophie. He’d tried to make plans with her three times that week and she somehow had a new thing she had to handle each time. 

“What do you mean, something’s wrong?” Colin asked. 

“It’s Sophie. She’s all off.” Rafe frowned. “Ever since we went home she’s been all weird. And now she won’t hang out with me.” 

“She’s probably busy, dude, doesn’t she have an internship this semester?” 

“How busy can someone really be during syllabus week?” James interjected.

“Week after, but real helpful, dude.” Colin chucked a dirty sock at James, and both of them started throwing random things across the room, yelling unintelligibly, until Rafe spoke up. “Hey. Hey! Knock it off!”  

Both boys had the decency to look a little sheepish as they settled down, James taking a seat on the couch next to Rafe. “Show me what she’s saying. Maybe you’re overthinking.” 

Colin flopped down on the other side of him. “Yeah, and didn’t you guys basically spend every day together over break? Maybe she needs some space.” 

“She’s my girlfriend, why would she need space from me?” Rafe frowned, handing his phone to James. 

James took his time to read through, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Huh.” 

“Fuck, that bad?” 

“No, no, not bad.” James paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “Maybe you just need to slow things down a little. You don’t need to see each other every single day just because you’re dating.” 

“I know that, but we’ve hardly talked all week. And she was weird at home too. I didn’t do something at the party, did I?” Rafe asked, trying to think back. 

“Uh...” Colin and James exchanged glances before Colin shook his head. “No, nothing out of the ordinary.”  

“Good. I’m gonna call her.” Rafe declared, leaving the room. Sophie didn’t pick up until the fourth ring. “Hey, Rafe, I’m walking to my freshman seminar, can I call you later?” 

“Convenient.” He mumbled before he could think. 

“I - what?” She replied, slightly taken aback. 

“Nothing, sorry. Yeah, can we hang out later? I can pick you up from the architecture building?” 

“Um...yeah. I’m done at seven.”

“Deal, I’ll be there.” He hung up before he could let himself say another dumb comment, while Sophie just stared at her phone in confusion after the dial tone. His comment weighed on her all through the class, and she was grateful it was just another lecture day she didn’t need to pay attention to instead of a technical day. When they got out a little early, she texted him right away. 

Sophie: just gonna walk home, we can talk tomorrow?

Rafe: I got here early, I’m parked on the side street

She took a deep breath and made her way out the building to his car - the fucking Range Rover that she had never given a second thought about until now. It was just another reminder of what she wasn’t. 

“Hey, Soph.” Rafe greeted her with a kiss once she slid into the passenger seat. She gave him a short smile. “Hey. How’d you know I’d be out early?” He shrugged, starting the car. “Only the second week of school, I just figured. Do you want to go get ice cream or something?” 

“I can’t, I have my first full day of my internship tomorrow and need to get things ready.” She started playing with her necklace, growing a little antsy. 

He glanced over. “Oh. Are you doing this every Monday?” 

“Monday and Wednesday nights, yeah. It’s kind of a lot, but I wanted to do one more TA class before senior year.” 

“That is a lot. Sounds like you’ll be busy.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel, staring ahead and listening to steady rhythm of rain that picked up around them.

She just hummed in agreement, falling silent again. After a few moments, she reached for the radio, and he gently knocked her hand away. “Sophie, what’s your deal?” 

“My deal?” She repeated. “I don’t have a deal, I’m just trying to figure out how to balance work and class. What’s your deal?” She shot back to him, growing defensive. 

“And me?” 

“What?”  

“You’re trying to figure out how to balance me, too?” He glanced over again, jaw set. This was not at all how he wanted this conversation to go - but it also felt good to finally get it out, so he didn’t stop himself. 

“Where the fuck is this coming from, Rafe?” She turned in her seat to fully face him, arms crossed. 

“You’ve been like this for a moment. Before school started, so you can’t use that excuse.” He pulled up front on the street outside Theta and turned off the car so he could fully face her. 

She backed down a little, shrinking back into her seat. “Have I? I’m not sure about that.” 

Rafe frowned and reached out for her hand, but she pulled it back. “Soph, come on. Talk with me.” 

“I am talking. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just balancing things.” She insisted, biting the inside of her cheek hard to keep her composure. In her mind, there would be nothing worse than showing him how much she was struggling at the moment - she just needed to work things out with herself, and she’d be fine.

He regarded her carefully, unsure. “Maybe...maybe we should take a break.” He said it all in one breath, extremely wary of her reaction. “Just for a couple weeks. I’ll back off.” 

Sophie nodded in agreement without any hesitation. “Yeah. We should.” 

Rafe’s face twisted in disappointment. He swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were almost white, avoiding her gaze. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” She stopped, almost reaching out to touch him, question it, but changed her mind at the last minute. She grabbed her backpack and got out of the car, wincing when the door accidentally slammed shut behind her. 

He flinched at her slamming the door, eyes still trained out the window. Rafe still waited until she was safely inside, then waited a moment longer to catch his breath, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. 

A break, accepted without any pause. 

[twomoonstwosuns]

home.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing maybe, fluff

word count: 5.0k

a/n: THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. IT HURT ME THAT I STRUGGLED SO MUCH WITH THIS, BUT I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH THE WAIT. we’re going to start getting angsty again so buckle up friends. 

also thank you @dameronsgalaxygal for helping me with my writers block. she is so lovely and if you're not following her you should because girl has quality writing. 

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

Patience really was a virtue, except when disruptions stood in the way. 

You left Cabo early that morning and didn’t land in Poe’s hometowns until early evening, six hours after your scheduled arrival time, first due to heavy delays and then a problem with the plane that was found just as boarding was about to begin. 

Walking as fast as you could without running into people, you marched down the jetway, rushed through the halls and down the escalator to baggage claim where Poe would meet you. He saw you hurrying towards him and he stood from the bench he was sitting on.

“Finally!” He threw his arms out to the side in frustration that matched yours. You rolled your eyes. 

“I know, I’m annoyed.”

“So, what was the problem with the plane?”

You groaned as you stopped in front of him and crossed your arms. “Something about the air vents not blowing cool air? I don’t remember what they said, I was too busy being mad that half a day was wasted stuck at an airport. I’m tired and hungry and not particularly thrilled that I’m about to go meet your dad feeling all pissed off and annoyed.”

Poe stepped into your space, placing both hands on your cheeks and pulling your mouth to his in a slow kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed.

“Still mad?” Poe asked quietly when he pulled back, his lips still ghosting over yours as he moved his arms around your waist. You gave him a half smile as your arms uncrossed and rested on top of his.

“Kinda.”

Poe kissed you again, putting a little more pressure against your lips.

“How about now?” Your smile curved upwards more and you bit your lip.

“Maybe a little bit still.”

Poe smirked and kissed you a third time, pulling you closer into him. You giggled against his mouth as he lifted you off the ground, your arms coming up around his neck to hold onto him. You broke apart as the corral alarm sounded. 

“Ok, now I’m feeling better,” you said as he set you down gently, keeping you held in his embrace. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too. And I’m glad you’re here. Should we go?”

“Please.”

Poe grabbed your hand and you waited for your suitcase to appear. You were back to groaning in annoyance as you stood for another ten minutes next to the corral waiting for your bag. When you finally had it, you followed Poe out of the airport. 

You told him more about your vacation, how you discovered on your last full day that you were terrified of parasailing, but you were glad you did it because it was something you’d always wanted to try. Poe told you about Rey twisting her ankle three miles away from their car and how he and Finn switched off carrying her so she wouldn’t hurt it worse. 

Your leg bounced nervously as Poe pulled up in front of a house, your heart pounding in your ears. You didn’t even realize Poe had cut the engine until you felt his hand squeezing your knee and heard the silence that filled the car. 

“You’ll be fine,” he assured you. “He’s excited to meet you.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. Poe took your suitcase from the trunk of the car and you followed him up to the front door. 

“Dad? We’re back!”

There was a moment of shuffling followed by footsteps and then Kes Dameron was in front of you. You marveled at their similarities. Poe was definitely his father’s son, from the shared skin tone to the same relaxed, easy smile they were both giving you. 

“You must be Y/N,” Kes said, taking a step towards you with his hand outstretched. He and Poe even sounded similar. You took his hand and shook it. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I hope you’re hungry, I’ve got dinner waiting.”

“You go ahead,” Poe said, grabbing your attention and heading towards the stairs. “I’ll bring this upstairs.”

“Come in, come in, make yourself comfortable,” Kes said, holding his arm out to invite you further into his home. You followed him to the kitchen, wringing your hands nervously in front of you.

“Anything I can do to help?” You asked, looking around at the food that was going to make its way to the dining room. 

“You can tell me what you’d like to drink. Beer, wine, soda..?”

“Water would just fine, actually. Between the waiting the flight itself, I didn’t drink much today.”

“So, what happened that caused such a delay?” Kes asked as he grabbed a glass of ice water for you. “I’ve done my fair share of flying and I’ve never had a delay that long.”

“There was some bad weather, then there was a problem with the plane. And then it took forever to get my suitcase.” You let out a dry laugh as you took your glass. “I just couldn’t catch a break today.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it safe.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and grabbed a bowl to bring out to the table. Poe met you in there and went to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink. He came back to the table and Kes handed you a bowl of vegetables first to help yourself to. 

“The food is delicious,” you said after taking a few bites.

“Do you cook at all?”

“I can make a few things, but nothing like this.” You said, taking a bite of food. “Though I do make a mean soup that’ll kick any sickness you have.”

Poe hummed in agreement. 

“Ah see, that’s one thing I don’t have,” Kes said. “Any chance I could steal it from you?”

“Secret family recipe, I don’t think they’ll forgive me if I did that.”

“I understand. Maybe next time.” Your heart pounded at next time; ten minutes into meeting him and he was talking about next time already. “So tell me about yourself.”

You told Kes all about the most relevant things in your life at that moment in between bites of food. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you saw food in front of you that wasn’t a bag of airplane pretzels. You’d talked more about yourself in the last month than you had ever in your life, between meeting Poe’s friends and now his dad. Kes listened intently, asking questions about your family and interests that proved to you he was making an effort and wasn’t just being polite for show. Any nervousness you had felt going into this first meeting was slowly fading. 

“You’re currently a student?” Kes asked, though his tone wasn’t harsh or accusatory. You hummed as you nodded. “I couldn’t remember if Poe said you were or not.”

“I graduate in May, so I will be a former student soon.”

“And what does the university say about you being…you know, together?” Kes looked between you and Poe. 

“It’s technically against the rules,” Poe answered.“I don’t really know what would happen to her, but I know there’s consequences for me. Which is why we don’t go anywhere and the only people on campus who know are her roommates.”

You half expected to get a lecture on making sure you remain careful, but it never came. Food was cleared from plates and the three of you sat with happy stomachs, making no effort to ditch the conversation to clean up. 

“How’d you guys get acquainted?” A playful smirk slowly spread across Kes’ face. “Did you see each other across the room and think ‘wow’?”

“Actually, yeah,” Poe said and your jaw dropped a little as you looked at him. He just glanced at you with a small smile. “She took one of my half-semester classes last fall. I immediately thought she was beautiful, got to know her over the two months, ran into her outside of class after it finished and we chatted—“

Poe nudged your foot with his as you stifled a laugh. Chatting was definitely the least scandalous thing that went down on Halloween, but Kes didn’t need those details. 

“—and we got to know each other better until I couldn’t not ask her out.”

You gave him a small smile. “You never told me that.”

Poe just shrugged with a small smirk on his face and you grinned at him. It was similar to what you thought when you first stepped into his classroom. You briefly recalled seeing him come in and whispering ‘holy shit’ under your breath, giggling together with your friend about how attractive your professor was on the way to get lunch. You got to know him as well as he got to know all of his students, the picture of Beebs as his computer background making you just melt. Then you harbored a small crush on him for the rest of the semester that you finally did something about thanks to a little alcohol on Halloween night. 

A yawn suddenly escaped your lips, making Kes chuckle. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

“I’m good, I can help with the dishes.”

“It’s ok hon, we’ve got it. You’re tired and you’ve had a long day. Go get some rest.”

You smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Mr. Dameron.”

“Kes, please.” He glanced over at Poe. “She’s been down here since you guys got here, why don’t you get her settled upstairs and then come help me clean up.”

You quietly giggled at Kes telling Poe what to do like he was a teenager. Poe put a hand on your back and led you out of the dining room as you waved a friendly ‘good night’ to Kes. You followed Poe up the stairs into the bedroom that he explained was the one he had as a kid.

“Dad said we can share a room as long as there’s ‘no funny business’.”

“Oh my god,” you giggled as you put a hand to your face. 

“I was half expecting Spider-Man sheets and Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition posters on the walls.”

“He took them all down when I moved out,” Poe teased, leaning against the door. “Bathroom’s right next door. And by the way? I told you you’d be fine.”

He chuckled as he ducked out the door when you balled up and threw your sweatshirt at him. When he was out of sight, you let out a breath and mumbled an ‘ok’ under your breath as you grabbed what you needed for the shower and headed into the bathroom. You had made it through dinner, answered the questions Kes had about your relationship without it turning awkward or hearing thinly-veiled insults disguised around advice about being careful. 

The hot water of the shower felt heavenly on your sore muscles but felt like needles poking your skin when it made contact with the places you got sunburned. You washed the feeling of stuffy airports and cramped airplanes off of your hair and body, the idea of curling up in bed and sleeping in in the morning very enticing. 

You kept your shower quick to not take up all the hot water and quickly dressed into a big t-shirt and sleep shorts before brushing your teeth. Going back to the room, you saw Poe with his legs outstretched in front of him, leaning against the headboard. You dropped your clothes into your suitcase, grabbing a bottle of aloe vera before sitting down in front of him. 

“I really hate to be this person, but do you think your dad likes me? Or do I need to try harder, maybe mention something he really likes to find some common ground?”

“No, he really likes you.” His statement ended more like a question and you furrowed your brow at him. “What’s in your hand?”

You waved the bottle in front of him. “Aloe. I got a little burned on my back. Help me out?”

Poe nodded and shifted to sit up more. You moved to sit between his legs and he slowly lifted the back of your shirt. 

“A little burnt? Did you even put sunscreen on?”

“Yes! I thought SPF 30 would be enough!”

Poe snickered as he put the aloe vera in his hands and gently rubbed the cooling gel into your skin, a shiver running through you as it immediately started working. He spread it around evenly and massaged it in so it wouldn’t transfer onto your shirt.

“So what’s the but?”

“What but?”

“‘He really likes you’…but?” Poe didn’t say anything and you sigh. “Come on, I can tell by the sound of your voice there’s something else.”

Poe stopped massaging your back, allowing his thumb to run gently down your spine. 

“He did say something.”

You twisted the top half of your body as far as you could so you could look at Poe and he allowed your shirt to fall back down. His expression was unreadable, but not sad or worried. 

“Not about you. He really does like you, he told me he thinks you’re fantastic. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a problem with the fact that you’re my student as long as we’re careful. Which we are.”

“Then what is it?”

“He just reminded me that I’m in my thirties and you’re in your twenties.”

You nodded slowly in understanding. 

“And people in their twenties are typically partying and getting blackout drunk on the weekends and hooking up with tons of people and not thinking about serious relationships,” you said and Poe nodded. “I get it.” 

You rested your hand on top of the one Poe had on your knee. “I mean, I like grabbing drinks with my friends and maybe going to a club or something but going out every weekend? That’s not really my thing. And the random hookups? Overrated, in my opinion.”

Poe laced your fingers together. “That’s what I told him.”

“He just wants what’s best for you. They’re valid concerns. My mom will probably have the same concerns when I tell her.” You let go of Poe’s hand to gently run your finger along the underside of his jaw, making him look at you. “Which I’m going to do the next time I see her. I really want her and Tallie to know.”

Poe gave you a half smile as he kissed your finger.

“Your dad is great, by the way,” you said when Poe pulled back to look at you. “And I’m sorry, he might be an even better cook than you.”

Poe’s jaw dropped in mock offense. “Fine, I’ll leave you here and go back by myself and he can make you breakfast on Sunday morning.”

You laughed as leaned your head against his, settling into the comfortable silence broken only by the soft ticking of the clock. You moved so your back was pressed against Poe’s chest once again, his arms encircling your waist as you lean back against him. 

“You know, I was a random hookup.”

You smirked as gently elbowed his stomach. “Yes you were, and you’ve ruined men for me forever so thanks a lot.”

He poked your stomach in retaliation and you laughed quietly. “But look what we got out of it.”

Your head dropped back onto his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat completely relaxing you.

“Sometimes I wish it was always this easy,” you said quietly. Poe dropped his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath as he squeezed your waist.

“Yeah, me too.”

》 》 》

“Favorite place you were stationed?”

“Aviano, Italy. It’s this little town in the north surrounded by mountains on one side and the ocean on the other. We were there for a year when Poe was a baby so he probably doesn’t remember much, but I’d love to travel there with him. Maybe stop at a few other places I got to go visit while stationed over there. Have you traveled anywhere in Europe?”

“I almost studied abroad in Spain a few years ago, but the day before I was supposed to leave I ended up getting my appendix taken out, so I didn’t get to go. But I really want to go see the big cities and explore the smaller towns. An old friend of mine did that and he said he found a lot of hidden treasures.”

“Aviano’s got a lot of those, including the best coffee I’ve ever had in all my years here on Earth.”

“Ok well, now I have to go there.”

You had joined Kes in the living room about an hour. Poe had gotten slammed with emails from students with poor excuses for not having homework ready for after break and was dealing with that when you heard noise coming from the TV discussing the results of the previous night’s game. Your comment about Colorado’s lack of quality defense caught his attention and before you knew it, you were watching the highlights with him and making your guesses about who would make it to the playoffs. 

“What made you want to join the Air Force?”

“My father was a pilot. He always told me stories of flying and fighting for his country. I admired him for it. So, when I was drafted at eighteen I knew immediately what branch I wanted to be in.” You saw him glance at a picture on the shelf by the television, one that had him, Poe, and a man you assumed was Poe’s grandfather out on a lake. “I know Poe wanted to continue the tradition and I would’ve loved for him to do that too. But I owe him everything for staying behind and helping me out when I was sick. And he found a career he loves, and that makes me just as proud, so it was all worth it.”

Kes had a proud look on his face and it warmed your heart to hear more about their close relationship. 

“He admires you so much,” you smiled warmly. “The stories he’s told me about growing up, the experiences you guys had together…he’s proud to be your son.”

“Speaking of, hey son.”

You looked behind you and saw Poe leaning against the wall with his jacket and shoes on. 

“How was your nap?” You asked with a smirk and Poe chuckled. 

“It was good,” he said. He held up his car keys. “Wanna take a drive?”

Kes patted your knee and gave you a warm smile. “I’ll meet you guys at Barker’s in an hour.”

You grab your jacket and shoes and follow Poe out to his car. 

“Where are we going?”

Poe just smiled at you. “You’ll see when we get there.”

You drove for about twenty minutes, the soft music from the radio the only sound needed. You noticed some of the trees were already starting to get leaves back, a hopeful sign of spring. You wished there was someway you could bring a little bit of that back to school where, at least when you left for Cabo, there was still dead grass and dirty snow everywhere you looked. 

Poe turned through an open vine-covered gate and you sat up straight when you realized just where you were. 

“Poe, wh—“ Your smile dropped slowly and your heart began to hammer in your chest. Multi-colored stones stood up from the ground, varying in size and shape with pops of colorful flowers scattered across them. “Poe, wait.”

The shakiness in your voice made Poe glance at you. When he saw the worried look on your face, he slowed the car down and pulled off to the side. You looked out the windows before looking at Poe, your eyes glossy with tears. 

“Are you—are you sure you want to take me here?”

Poe furrowed his brow as he put the car in park. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You open your mouth to speak and no words came out, but the look on your face said it all. Poe tilted his head in concern.

“Is that what this is about?” Your eyes cast downward. “Baby…”

Poe reached over and cupped your cheek, cradling it in his hand as he brought your gaze up to him. 

“Are you still hanging onto that?” You nodded. “Why?”

“Because it was the most hurtful thing I could’ve said to you.”

Poe exhaled deeply, his thumb running gently across the spot just underneath your eye. “Baby, it was a stupid fight where we both said stupid things. I’ve forgotten all about it. You should to. Please.”

All you could do was nod. Poe released your face and pulled back onto the road, driving a few minutes deeper into the cemetery before finally stopping and turning back to you. “It’ll just be a few minutes. If you really don’t want to though, we don’t have to.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I want to.”

You got out of the car and Poe immediately grabbed your hand when he came around to your side of the car. 

“Wait,” you said, pulling him back when he took a few steps forward. “I don’t—what do I say?”

Poe walked back to you, squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I just want you there.”

You nodded and he kissed your temple gently before leading you across the crunchy grass. The sun was shining brightly, mixing wonderfully with the crisp afternoon air. The beautiful day brought out others as well, the hum of their hushed conversations with loved ones floating being carried by the wind. 

Shara’s headstone was near the end of a row that ended right at the fencing. The marble reflected the sun’s rays and shone beautifully. Fresh flowers sat propped up against the stone. 

“We were here yesterday,” Poe explained when you eyed the flowers that had no business being that bright in the cold air. “We come here every time I visit home.”

You didn’t know Shara, but you felt a sense of heartache as you stepped in front of her headstone. 

“Mom, this is Y/N,” Poe said before looking down at you with soft eyes and a matching smile. “She’s beautiful, amazing, funny, kind, selfless…”

You hid your face in Poe’s chest, his sweet words and how he said them with such adoration bringing tears to your eyes. He let go of your hand and put his arm around your shoulder.  You rested your cheek against his jacket.

“…technically my student, but we’re going to pretend she’s not. In fact, sometimes I think she should just take over my class and let me relax. I might be a little biased but…god, she’s so smart.”

You face flushed with color and quietly sniffled, unsure if it was from the cold or the overwhelming rush of emotions. 

“She’s already won over dad. They were talking about Aviano and hockey earlier today. It doesn’t sound like she’s a Colorado fan, though. Oh, and she cannot skate worth a damn. Seriously, it’s embarrassing.” 

You scoffed and nudged him. He just tightened his arm around you. 

“I’m pretty sure Beebs likes her more than me, but she spoils him so that might be it,” He continued. “She’s going to graduate at the top of her class in a few months. And…”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but when his mind flooded with memories and the what-could’ve-beens, he was overcome with emotion and unable to speak. You looked up at him as you gently rubbed his back.

“You and Kes raised an amazing son.” Your voice shook as you spoke, the feeling of speaking to an inanimate object weird to you, but knowing how important it was to Poe. “He’s the kind of man every mother wants their son to be. You would be so proud of him.”

Poe gazed down in pure adoration at you, a small smile crossing his face. He cleared his throat.  

“Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.”

You reached up and kissed Poe’s cheek and you let your lips linger for a second before squeezing his arm and walking back to the car. Poe waited until you were far enough away before turning back to his mother’s gravestone. 

“If you’d have asked me when I first started teaching that I’d fall for one of my students, I’d have laughed in your face. But she’s not just that to me. She’s…” Poe glanced back at your retreating figure before turning back. “I wish you could’ve met her, mom. You’d really love her. Because I know I do.”

Poe stood in silence for another minute before heading back towards his car. You were patiently leaning against the passenger door, tears coming to your eyes when you saw Poe have a moment with his mother. 

You gave him a small smile and he immediately wrapped you in a hug, placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Thank you,” Poe mumbled in your hair. “This meant a lot to me.”

You moved to look up at Poe, smiling softly. “It meant a lot to me, too.”

Poe softly pecked your lips and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve got one more place I want to take you.”

You nod as you got back into the car. As Poe waited for traffic to clear to turn back onto the road, you leaned over and kissed his cheek a second time, giving him another warm smile as you sat back in your seat. Poe turned onto the road and grabbed your hand for the duration of the drive.

You arrived back in town in about ten minutes time, Poe parking in front of a rundown bar that had seen its fair share of love and weather over many many years. Kes’ car was already in the parking lot.

“This is my Maz’s.” Poe explained as you both got out of the car. 

It was a classic small town bar, the kind where the bartenders knew every detail of their regulars’ lives and welcomed everyone by name. Kes was at the counter chatting with the bartender, waving you and Poe over and immediately buying you both a drink. Kes led you to a table where you put your coats and you were about to sit down when Poe eyed something behind him. 

“Want to shoot some pool?”

“Against you? No thanks,” Kes smirked. “I don’t know how you got so damn good but I’m not in the mood to get my ass handed to me in front of people I know.”

“Come on, you should be proud your son is beating you!”

“Well, I’m not.” Kes said. “Fine, I’ll play. But I’m teaming up with Y/N. I need all the help I can get.”

Poe looked over at you and you shrugged as you walked over to the wall to grab a pool cue. Kes racked up the balls as you prepped the pool cue with blue chalk. Poe broke the rack and watched as one of the solid colors got close to a pocket. He tapped it in with the cue ball, making solids his objective and stripes yours and Kes’. 

You lined up the stick with the cue ball, eyeing it for a moment before sending it towards the red striped ball which smoothly sunk into a corner pocket. Kes patted your back as he cheered and Poe looked at you incredulously. All you could do was smirk. 

“Oh yeah, I learned how to play growing up.”

The game was neck and neck and pretty soon Kes wasn’t even playing anymore. He was grabbing drinks for everyone and acting as your personal cheerleader, strategizing with you on what and where you should hit next. And when you sunk the eight ball before Poe had even finished putting away all the solids, Kes cheered and lifted you into a hug.

“I’m only playing against you know if Y/N is here,” he said before going up to the bar to grab another drink. You sat on the edge of the pool table as Poe approached you.

“Who taught you to play?” He asked with a small smile. You gave him a sad smile. 

“My dad.” Poe’s smile dropped and you squeezed his arm. “Once school is done and we can be out, you’ll find out I’m kind of good at darts but terrible at quarters.”

“Alright, so we’ll play quarters so I can beat you at something.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, thankful he went along with the subject change, and he kissed it back into your mouth. Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” came over the speakers. You broke away from him, took a long swig of your beer and hopped off the pool table, holding your hand out to Poe. 

“Come dance with me.” Poe just laughed and shook his head. “This is one of my favorite songs! Please?”

You stuck your bottom lip out in an over exaggerated pout. Poe rolls his eyes with a humored smile and drank the rest of his beer before setting the bottle next to yours and taking your outstretched hand. You led him onto the dance floor and you were yanked back by Poe stopping. He pulled you into him and, with a hand on your back and the other holding yours, he moved you along to the music. 

You danced to the mid-tempo song, Poe spinning you under his arm. He surprised you by dipping you and you laughed loudly, clutching onto his shirt so you wouldn’t fall. Poe pulled you back up, holding you closer to him than he previously was. 

Kes smiled at the pair of you from across the bar. Poe had told him you were something special and he saw very clearly why. You were the first girl Poe had brought home to meet Kes in years, but you were the only girl Poe had ever taken to visit Shara, something that he held so closely to his heart. Kes knew then and there that you’d be around for a long time. 

Poe knew it too.

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[mollymauk-teafleak]

A Little Bit in Love

Whitestone Academy is the most prestigious boarding college in all of Exandria, welcoming young men from high society families across the continent.

And, this year, Caleb Widogast.

Caleb is determined to prove himself amongst his classmates and show them, and himself, that he deserves to be here.

Percy de Rolo just wants to feel normal for a change, hard when your family owns the ground the school sits on.

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

I shouldn’t be here.

Caleb had hoped to feel something more than that, the very first time he crossed the gates of the Whitestone Academy. After how hard he worked to get here, everything he’d been through, everything he’d endured just to have the right to study here, he’d wanted something more than the crushing realisation that maybe everyone who’d doubted him had been right.

I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t be here.

The uniforms were a combination of slate and heather grey, as if to match the cold exterior of the building itself, the only colour being the ivy growing up along the turrets and the slight gold edging on the school’s crest adorning every blazer in sight. The school simply looked ancient, the kind of structure that had stood here amongst the hills of north east Tal’Dorei for millenia and would stand for millenia more, defying all kinds of change. Standing in the courtyard was like standing in another time, a time much further in the past.

But it wasn’t that making Caleb Widogast feel out of place. It was the other students.

Though it would be hard to describe the difference between him and them with words, it was so obvious that they could be different species. It was in the way they carried themselves, the way their eyes passed over everything as if it had been all set there for them, all of it a backdrop to their performance. Their uniforms fit perfectly, they held their bags over their shoulders carelessly, they stood tall and confident. Most were human, some elven, some poised between the two. There were even some drow, few and far between, though that was where the variety ended.

They came from money, they came from old families. They’d known since they could walk that this school, the most prestigious school in Exandria, with the most renowned magic department outside of the Solstryce itself, was the place they would be attending.

I really don’t belong here.

Caleb knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it.

He’d sat all of the entrance exams and interviews in Rexxantrum, the closest city to his village, this was the first time he’d actually been to the academy. It had taken ages to get here, hopping on and off trains across half the continent and in that time he’d thought he’d imagined every possible combination of plush carpets, brass sconces and dark wood panelling, leaving him nothing to be impressed by. But in the flesh it was still astounding, like places he’d only ever read about in books.

He took his acceptance letter out of his pocket and read it for what had to be the hundredth time. It was well folded, grime gathering in the creases from his pocket, from how many times he’d read it just to make sure this was all real.

Due to your unique circumstances, please join the Headmaster for a meeting upon your arrival at the start of term.

That last sentence, before the polite farewell, made his chest pinch a little. Unique circumstances. Caleb hadn’t been able to figure out exactly what aspect of him that referred to. Probably all of him, if he was honest.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew he’d only been allowed to attend this school because of their need to at least be seen acquiescing to changing times. He knew he was a trophy. He knew he was a performance, designed so the people who ran the school could point and say look, our admission policies are perfectly fair. How else could you explain him?

They’d probably pause before allowing Caleb the designation of ‘him’, of course. But still.

Caleb told himself he didn’t care. He was here, after scoring the highest grades in the entrance exams in decades. And he was going to do great things.

The thought entered his head just as he took a corner and collided into someone.

People came from all over the world to attend Whitestone Academy.

Percy de Rolo could have walked.

He didn’t of course, he took the car. That was his compromise with Father who would probably have sent him in the family carriage with a full accompaniment of trumpets to announce his arrival if he had his way. Behold, the next of my line.

Instead he’d been able to look at least a little bit normal. Pretty much all the other boys had shown up in similar ways, a fleet of ridiculously fancy cars with personal drivers, enormous for reasons of showboating rather than to hold all of their stuff for a full semester away from home.

Those golden words, as magical as anything taught within these walls. Away from home. Percy clung to that like a talisman, the idea of most of the year out of the mansion, away from his siblings irritating him like sand in his eyes, away from the eyes of his parents scrutinising everything he did for flaws. A chance to be himself, to go to lessons and join the rugby team and sleep in on Saturdays and eat in a hall full of rowdy teenage boys. A chance to be a rowdy teenage boy.

Percy couldn’t wait. He’d been counting down to this day for years.

He’d just come out of a meeting with the Headteacher, a man he’d already met at plenty of parties at Whitestone. His face when Percy had explained that, despite the requests of his father, he didn’t want one of the handful private tower rooms over one of the two person dorm rooms most of the students would be staying in, had been a picture. But he’d gotten his way in the end.

Percy had a suspicion that would always be easy while he was here. The school was named after his bloody house. But he was determined that this would be the last time he’d do it, the last time he’d use his surname to change the course of things.

He let the heavy oak door shut behind him and started down the corridor, eager to find his room and meet his roommate.

He was already blissfully imagining the mess he’d allow to build on the floor when he collided hard with someone.

Caleb gave a very undignified yelp, his rucksack tumbling to the floor. It burst open on impact, scattering his meagre possessions across the hardwood, his clothes, his books, his toiletries.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry,” he stammered, throwing himself to his knees and trying to claw it all back together, hoping it would give him an excuse not to look up and never know the face of the person he’d just embarrassed himself in front of, “I just… I wasn’t looking…”

“It was my fault,” a nicely accented voice answered and, oh no, he was bending down and helping him, please no.

Panic surging up like bile in the back of his throat, Caleb snatched his binder from an inch away from the stranger’s hand, desperately hiding it under some books.

Not that it wasn’t going to be around the school soon, he’d had that depressing realisation long ago. But he couldn’t have that conversation with someone he’d just ploughed into in a random corridor five minutes after he’d arrived.

“You can, um… I’m sure you’re busy, I’ve got this… “ Caleb tried to get out, in between chasing down his balled up socks.

“It’s no trouble. I’m Percy by the way, are you just starting today too?”

Realising the general rules of politeness meant he couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer, Caleb gave in. The word that instantly slapped him across the face was gorgeous.

He felt himself sigh on the inside. Was he going to fall into a hopeless crush with every single one of his schoolmates?

Well hopefully they wouldn’t all have such angular jaws, sharp blue eyes and soft brown hair falling into said eyes.

Though, even if they did, they’d probably be bullying him within the first half term. Which should make the crush wilt somewhat.  

“Yeah,” he said quickly, after too long a pause, “Yeah, we must be in the same year. I’m Caleb Widogast.”

“Well, I’m glad to meet you,” Percy nodded politely, flashing a smile that Caleb was sure he was going to be seeing in his more hormone fuelled dreams.

“Good to meet you too,” he mumbled, the way he always mumbled when he was nervous, “I’m sorry it has to be...like this.”

Percy laughed softly, finally passing over the items he’d managed to gather up, “I’ll pretend not to know you when I see you next and we can try again.”

Caleb gave a nervous little laugh in return, following his lead, though he was more focused on getting his underwear out of the guy’s hand as fast as physically possible, “Sure. Sounds good.”

As soon as everything was stuffed back into his bag, he took off down the hall, mumbling something indistinct about having a meeting to get to which was, in fairness, true. He left handsome Percy looking bemused under the gaze of the portraits of former headmasters.

Percy watched the red haired boy go, blinking in confusion.

His accent was different to his own, softer around the edges, an upward inflection. Less polished, less sculpted than the peers he’d grown up with. It stayed snagged in Percy’s mind for a long time after the boy himself had turned the corner.

He seemed younger than Percy somehow, even though they were apparently in the same year. His uniform seemed to sit too large on his skinny shoulders, tie done up a little too tight to anchor it in place, blazer sleeves coming a shade too far down his arms. He’d given the overall impression of some nocturnal animal startled awake in the middle of the morning.

His first classmate. Percy had been hoping to make a better impression but still, he seemed nice, if scared stiff of him. He winced internally, hoping that wasn’t going to be how everyone would react to him. He needed to get in ahead of his surname, try and seem normal and make friends before they could get weird about the fact that his father owned pretty much everything that surrounded the school grounds.

He hoped there was still a chance to do that. He hoped his family hadn’t ruined yet another thing for him.

Percy exhaled and checked the freshly printed welcome letter in his hand, with his amended room number. All of the dorms were on the second and third floors and it looked like he was in the very corner of the west wing, amongst the other first years. He mentally orientated himself and strode off to unpack and settle in, hoping idly in the back of his mind that the boy with the unusual accent wasn’t too embarrassed.

If anything, Percy was a little impressed at how many books he’d had for so early in the term.

Caleb still felt a little itchy even after he’d closed the door to the headmaster’s office and hurried in the direction of his new room. It was as if he could still feel those eyes on him, studying him like some kind of specimen, like a stray cat that had wandered in from outside and was a hair’s breadth away from being firmly ejected.

He was told flatly, emotionlessly, that he would change in a separate room to the rest of his PE class and that the only reason he wasn’t in his own room was because the school was at capacity, as if Caleb had some kind of contagious disease. He was told any drop in his grades, at any point in the year, not just around finals, would put his scholarship under immediate review. He was told if there was any trouble with any of the other students that the administration became aware of, that threatened the reputation of the school as a whole, there would no longer be a place for him at the academy.

And that he would be immediately placed in the advanced magic classes with the upper students.

The last part had been said somewhat grudgingly, Caleb felt.

He wasn’t quite sure what sort of trouble the administration was expecting, he thought bitterly as he headed towards the west wing, or how he was going to cause it. Probably by existing.

He chanted his room number in his head over and over so he didn’t forget it. Already, he could feel his palms start to sweat in his blazer pockets at the thought of meeting the boy he’d be sharing a room with for the rest of the year. He had a sinking feeling he’d cycle through quite a few, surely no one in their right mind would want to room with the scholarship boy from the back end of nowhere.

Good thing he didn’t have many possessions to move. Maybe he wouldn’t even bother unpacking.

Room 2.04 was the one on the end of the corridor, sort of tucked away on its own. Caleb could already hear voices behind most of the doors, laughing and cheering and chanting, the general celebratory air of the start of the school year and many boys’ first taste of freedom away from home.

Swallowing hard, he hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Maybe his roommate would be somewhere else, off with the boys he probably already knew from a childhood of high society parties. Maybe he’d have a little lucky break.

Either way, the journey and the grilling from the headmaster had exhausted him. He wanted a bed and the only way to get one was to open the door and pray for a little luck.

He didn’t get it.

Someone was already sat on the left hand bed. Someone with sharp blue eyes, soft brown hair, neat circular glasses. Someone gorgeous. Caleb’s heart hit the bottom of his shoes with a thud.

Percy gave a slight, nervous smile, clearly trying to make the best of the situation, “Uh...have we met before?”

[btsjfans]

Love Me pt 2

Summary: After breaking off your 4 year romance as you make your way onto your 3rd year of college, you don’t expect to fall back in love’s grip so soon…

Namjoon x Reader, fluff, lil angst, maybe a lil smut later on

masterlist

part 1 

a/n: y’all it’s been like a million years since I’ve even last posted, and it’s been about 9 months since I posted the start to this. I truly can’t explain myself I’m just busy. Oops, xoxo, and thanks for all your support and requests, it keeps me on here :) love you all. ALSO guys i really really love this man look how ADORABLE HE IS GHDJKFJHDSFB

Laughter echoed down the hall from the living room, where 6 rowdy boys sat, disturbing your focus. You smiled as you heard Jin’s laugh clearly through the rest. You pushed your chair back and walked out to the living room, leaning against the wall and crossing your arms. Before you sat the 6 men boys, bent over, faces red, from their laughter. The coffee table had been moved over to make room for them all to sit criss cross on the floor with the Game of Life in the middle of them. 

“Y/n-Y/n, Yoongi just had his 9th kid, they have to have two vans!” Jin shrills, laughing, slapping a very stressed Min Yoongi on the back. 

“I don’t know how we’re gonna afford this kid, I just lost my job last roll,” he mutters, shoving kid #9 in his new blue van. 

“You should join us Y/n!” Jungkook grins, popping a chip into his mouth, while patting the spot next to him with the other hand.

“Ah she can’t, she has her big math midterm tomorrow. She’s gotta study.” Namjoon smiles and gives you a look, reminding you of your priorities. 

“Yeah he’s right, I just came out here to remind you punks to be quiet,” You grin, snagging the chip bowl from Jungkook, who whines in protest between the chips in his mouth. 

“Good luck,” the boys chorus, turning back to the game. Except for Namjoon who sends you a little smile matched with a playful wink, lighting a fire in your heart. You send one back, still smiling as you close the door to your room, leaning your back against it and clutching the chips to your chest. To be honest, you had started to catch feelings for your roommate, which you knew was completely inappropriate. It hadn’t happened right away though, it took time like any real crush does. 

You’d been living there for 4 months now, it was almost halfway through December now. It took time to get over Wonho, and Jenny. About 2 months actually. You had to rewrite your life, and this time without the people you had held most important longer than you had anyone else before. But writing Namjoon into your life had been the easiest thing you’d ever done. He was like your perfect other half. When you were shaky, he was stable. When you were sad, he was happy. When you were ecstatic, he hyped you up but still kept you on Earth. He was there to take you on morning and evening walks. He was there to bake cookies at 2am when you couldn’t sleep. He was there to lay in bed and talk until you guys fell asleep. He was the most constant, perfect person you had ever met. For all the times you burdened him with every little struggle, he rarely told you his. Instead, he opted to make sure you were well taken care of before even beginning to open up. He was everything Wonho was not, and in the best way possible. 

You first started to develop feelings for him in November. The day it started was a brisk fall morning, when he was walking with you to get coffee. You were both bundled up in jackets, and linked arm in arm. You were walking when a giant leaf the size of your head flew into your face, blinding you and making you shriek. He laughed and watched you knock it off your face, pulling it out away from the tendrils of hair it had caught on. He grinned and brushed the hair from your face, his fingers gently skimming your cheek. Your body had felt like it was on fire, despite it being 40 degrees out. You don’t know why but that’s really what started it all. After that, every little thing he did for you felt so much more personal; every little habit of his and every little thing about him was so much more adorable. 

Butttt of course you knew you could never pursue things with him. You couldn’t jeopardize the healthiest friendship you’d ever had, and plus it wouldn’t be fair to Taehyung when he came back into town. 

You shake yourself from your thoughts, rushing back to your desk, and hunching over to study. You were going to ace this exam, even if it killed you.

“Y/n?” Three knocks at the door. “Y/n get up!” Three more. You opened your eyes and sat up, pulling your pencil off your cheek. You glance in your vanity and wince at the sight before you. Your hair was a mess, there was a red mark where the pencil was on your cheek, and your eyes were bloodshot. Your desk was in even worse condition, chips were crumbled and scattered all over, your papers were wrinkled, and there was what looked like a little puddle of drool smeared across the smooth wood. Namjoon pokes his head in, eyes widening at your state. “Your final is in 10 minutes come on!!! I made breakfast, so you get ready and then we’ll run you over,” As quickly as he came, he was gone. You threw your clothes on, just leggings and one of his sweatshirts that somehow always ended up on your floor. You grabbed your bag and ran to the kitchen where an egg with toast waited at the table. You scarfed it down and bolted out the door, Namjoon on your tail. The two of you sprinted through the campus, a cold sprinkling of rain misting your faces as you panted and dodged passerby's. You start to feel panic well up inside as you check your watch and see you have 30 seconds.With the building still a minute away, you feel a tear come out and slow your pace, knowing it’s futile. You stop and catch your breath, trying to remain calm, when you see Namjoon speed up past you, hitting a full sprint. He gets to the building and busts through the doors, running up to where your class is. You grin knowing he made it, and start sprinting too. As you run up the stairs you hear him talking to the teacher. “No sir are you sure this isn’t Improv Comedy? This has to be it, they said the final was here today!” You grin and listen to your annoyed professor repeat exasperatedly how it is not in fact Improv and he is mistaken. You slide through the door and into a chair nearby, catching your breath and smoothing your wet hair. Your friends grin at you and shake their heads. Namjoon glances back, seeing you’ve made it. He throws you a wink before sighing, “Alright, thanks sir.” As he walks out he mouths to you, “I believe in you,” before disappearing. 

You walk out of the final, flanked by your friends. You guys joke about how you definitely failed, but you feel a pit in your stomach knowing you probably did honestly. You guys stand in the lobby, watching the rain pour outside and decide to wait for it to pass over before heading out. 

“God is someone actually out there?” One kid says, squinting and looking out the windows into the torrential rains. You all run over to the windows, laughing as you watch a kid sprint with an umbrella that’s fighting him. You grin until you realize you know that umbrella, because it’s yours. 

The kid, now identified as Namjoon, finally gets through the doors, absolutely soaked despite his attempt at an umbrella. 

“What are you doing here?” You grin but shake your head at your friend, before noticing the soaked, and partially mutilated flowers he holds. 

“I wanted to bring you these after your final.” He smiles sheepishly and holds out a bouquet of wild flowers, some drooping, some missing petals, and some in perfect condition. 

You feel your heart flutter, and gingerly take them, hugging them to your chest. 

“Aw I love them Joon, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much,” You grin and gaze at the flowers lovingly before realizing what you said. 

“I love you too Y/n,” He grins, his dimple teasing his face, before pulling you in for a warm, albeit wet, hug. You wrap your arms around him and close your eyes breathing in his smell. You really do love him.

“I’m so excited for you to meet Taehyung, he’s so so so funny and smart and you’re gonna love him.” Namjoon rambles as he putters around, excitedly awaiting Taehyung’s arrival. Tae had been on a study abroad in England for the last semester working on his English degree. From what the boys had said about him, he was a really good guy. You hoped he’d like you. You’d even prepared a little gift for him, all his favorite American foods in a basket to welcome him back to the states. Hoseok had even pitched in a 2 liter of Sprite, despite that not even being on Taehyung’s list. 

You would miss your time alone with Namjoon, all your quiet nights in on the couch, talking and laughing. Everything about this life here had been perfect, like a sweet escape from the rest of the world. As much as it embarrasses you to think, you’re worried that Taehyung being here will ruin everything. It was his home first! Who gave you the audacity to want to keep him at bay? 

You cast a smile at the boys as they enter, all excitedly twittering about Taehyung’s arrival. You lean against the cupboard, trying to calm yourself before he arrives. You close your eyes and take a shaky breath, sucking that air right back in as warm hands suddenly engulf yours. 

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon is there, his warm eyes twinkling and a small smile flirting with his dimple. 

“I-I don’t know,” You laugh a little, your face on fire, “What if he doesn’t like me?” He laughs in response, which was not the response you thought this kind of situation merited. “What the heck?” You try to tug your hands away, not impressed with him at the moment. 

“It’s just, how could he not like you? You’re amazing!! And worst case scenario, I like you enough for the both of us. And uh I don’t know if now is the right time to say this, or if there even is a right time, but I have feelings for you, like more than a friend. And I’ve felt this way for a while, a long, long while. And I know I might have just ruined things with us but please, if you don’t feel the same way just tell me, I won’t ever pressure you okay? Just tell me things are okay,” His smile weakens, but his eyes stay alight with hope. 

You feel a smile light your face and you let out a soft laugh. “Namjoon! I feel the same, I-”

“PIP PIP LOSERS I’M BACK!” The door busts open as a deep voice bellows through the room, all of you jumping. The boys run over in a testosterone filled sentimental mob.

“We’ll have time later princess,” Namjoon’s voice drops suddenly, his breath hot on your hear, sending chills over your body in a wave. As quickly as his intimacy came it left, and he was among the boys bear hugging Taehyung.

“Now lets meet this new roomie,” 

[derangedroyalfae]

Dear Mother, (a very personal letter I'll never send to my mom last updated Oct 20, 2017)

Dear Mother,

It seemed only right that I should write you a letter too, since that is one of your ways of getting things off your chest. You should know that I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me, for every step you have take by my side, the support you have given, but I need you to understand why I get frustrated and have a hard time communicating with you and members of this family about certain situations.

It was not true when you claimed that you recommend I see a psychiatrist. You suggested a therapist to me, but never gave me the other idea. In fact, when I told you that I wanted to see one and even got a referral, you lectured and interrogated me and tried to make me feel like the problems I was having weren’t real and even just possibly from sleep deprivation. You need to understand that it wasn’t a matter of just one night I had the impulse to see Dr. S and ask to see a psychiatrist. No. It was months and weeks of contemplating and convincing. I had to try so hard just to convince myself that I wasn’t wrong for doing so. Do you know how often I felt wrong for seeing a therapist because I was made to feel that my depression and “problems” were insignificant compared to others, especially those in this family. I had to tell myself that there was an actual problem I was having, that it wasn’t just out of jealousy or to feel special. After years and semesters of failing classes and falling behind, I knew I had to stop. I felt like a burden and failure, wasting everyone’s time and my father’s money. I was struggling so hard. When I finally made the decision to take it into my own hands and inquire for help, I thought you would be proud of me. But you weren’t. The very first night I saw Dr. G, you sat me down and told me how disappointed you were in me for deciding to take medication. And of course, as dad handed me my first bottle of pills he told me that he doesn’t think I need them. Then when I finally came out to Bear and Bunny, more lectures and disappointment. I still try though, when I up or down my dosage, I tell you, but every time I do, I still feel and hear how disappointed me you are, even if you don’t say it directly, it’s there, in the questions, in the need for you to hear me prove myself to you. I remember when I first saw Lauren after making the decision and I immediately jumped into explaining myself, and she was saying I didn’t need to. Then there was the fact that you had previously shown concern for me, too scared to let me stay home alone during the winter holidays, but not cautious enough to let me see a psychiatrist and get regulated help on medication?

You had given me a bit of a hard time for not having a job once, but the moment I started searching for one, you almost freaked out and became incredibly concerned. But you need to understand why I was desperate to get one. You wanted to rule it out to me wanting to be independent and responsible, and while I do want to be that, you were expecting me to pay $75 a month for my bus pass when I was only given $30 a month (to which you justified it as a means to encourage me to get my permit, but I hadn’t the time, money or resources to do that the semester you made me start. It felt incredibly unfair since you two had paid for Cat’s gas and car up until she was 21, and I had just turned 19). I wanted to be useful too, to those I love and in the household. The economy is so hard right now, and I hate asking for things, no matter how much I love to be spoiled. And then there’s the matter of a license and permit. You cannot say I didn’t try. I kept asking dad to sign me up for driver’s ed since I turned fifteen. Eventually he did, and so the day or two before the first day of my senior year, I took and failed my first test. They told me to come back in a week at the soonest, but it never happened for a number of reasons, some my fault as well, but I was preoccupied with my academic life. I finally got back to it and kept trying again at my permit test, I even made my own appointment and took the bus, which surprised you for some reason. And then, when I passed, I walked home because I was so proud of myself. But we were all too busy to teach me. Over winter break last year I had gotten a lesson from my friend, Stephen. He swung by our house and took me to American High and I learned a little bit. You can’t say that I never tried or took any initiative. I have even been more than willing to pay for my permit test this time around. I know it seems like I've been putting it off, but I've still been so preoccupied and a bit short on money, though that is fault of my own. 

I know I get narcissistic and can be self-righteous brat at times, but believe me, I KNOW. I am well aware that I’m far from perfect and have my many flaws. I only act that way as a mean to help me forget that I am not that way. No one can call me on my bull better than I can. My depression is linked to a lot of self-deprecating thoughts a majority of the time, which I’m sure is something you could relate to with your past experiences, and probably to an even more severe degree. But just because my problems don’t make me want to end my life or hurt myself do not mean they are not problematic or very real to me. It hasn’t been easy, and I know it’s even harder for you, and I know it’s so hard for you to hear this, but you need to stop blaming yourself and thinking that I feel this way because you’re a bad parent. It’s not about you or that. It’s about miscommunications and misunderstandings, and forces beyond our control like genetics and life and then so much more. 

I know I’ve been a bad sister to Bunny, and believe me when I say that I feel such incredible guilt for that, but you don’t understand how hard it is for me to deal with her. You’re her parent, her superior, etcetera and so on. I am her little sister. I used to look up to her so much and saw her as my epitome of beauty. Now all I can do is feel like an anxious mess incapable of currently getting along with the person that’s helped contribute to my self-deprecating thoughts and fears and other issues. I only bring this up because I know how important family is to you, it’s very important for me too, but I worry that you see me so negatively for how I am around my sister. I could not explain just how much panic and guilt I feel when I hear her voice raise. I go and lock my door and hope that will be enough, and seeing as how she once attacked my door, I feel like that my fear can be valid at times. I love her, but I feel like she judges every little thing I say.

I know I seem like I’m ever so happy and have my cool, but I struggle so much to even come off that way. I try my best to seem and be happy to keep those around me from feeling the way I do or worse. You have helped me through most of my life, and you and my father support me finically as well, without the two of you, I couldn’t see anyone for mental health or go to school, but I feel like you don’t understand were I’m coming from. I cringe so much writing this, feeling like such an ungrateful chit (not a typo) to you. But at the same time, it only feels fair. I’m glad you recognize my positive qualities and actions, but I wanted to explain the others. I don’t know if I’ve said too much or if I should even say any of this. I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m not trying to ridicule or belittle you, but I just want to inform you.

With all my love,

Royal Fae

Post Script:

There is something I'd like to say when it comes to Nurd as well. I understand you not wanting me to get pregnant out of wedlock to protect me, my body, and my future, but whether or not I have an active sex life should not change how you see me. When I tell you that I am not going to get pregnant anytime soon, even if I was sharing a bed every night with Nurd, because it's NOT possible, and that's not because of the birth control, I mean it! Besides the fact that there is nothing I can't do in a bed at night that I couldn't do any other time or place. I've slept next to Nurd countless amounts of times, full house or home alone, being in a bed at night will not change anything. Sleeping next to someone does not equate to sex or sexual acts. Even if it does, it shouldn't be the reason for the way you see me. I am your child and you should not need to think of me in such ways. And I don't understand how you can regret letting Bear and Erick share a room (even way before talk of engagement) when there was nothing to regret that came out of it. They didn't get pregnant out of wedlock, are now happily married, and expecting their first child. I don't crave to sleep next to Nurd so I can commit sexual acts with him. It is the closeness and comfort I seek. 

I know it's hard for you to believe that I suffer from an occasionally severe depression, but the night you made him leave my room was a night I was at a very big low. I had already woke up that morning feeling depressed and hopeless (I had been having a hard time focusing, staying awake, or being interested in tasks that I enjoyed), only to have my heart crushed by being refused by Spirit Halloween. Not only was I unable to finish my job at a workplace I loved, an environment I felt so at home and comfortable in, but now I would be a burden to those around me. I had no job and no one that I applied to that was hiring called me back despite it being over a week. I wanted to finally start paying rent. I wanted to be working, useful, not a total shut in. I had to lay on Muffin's floor and cry it out after it happened, not being able to fathom telling the rest of the family since I was sure to have a meltdown again. 

That night, I was going to talk to Nurd, ask him to hang out with me in my room to keep me sane, I was crushing up inside, but felt like I'd be a burden and nuisance, so stood their holding his doorknob for a solid minute or two before taking position in front of his door like a beggar. I couldn't bring myself to go inside and bother him, but took comfort in listening in to him, being distracted from my thoughts. It wasn't until half an hour later when he opened the door I was leaning against that he discovered I had been there. He finished his business and decided to join me. I hadn't meant to be loud, but it was a much welcomed distraction to me that I was being inconsiderate of my surroundings. After he left I have a full blown breakdown because I was left alone with no way to distract myself. I cried from 2AM-4AM and had self-harming thoughts that scared me very much since I NEVER get those. And I did end up bitting myself and clenched my arm with my nails to cause a distraction from the pain. I had a good 10 minutes of just silently staring out my window, jaw agape, whilst drool, snot, and tears rolled off my face and into my lap. I needed the support, and I'm sorry to say, but I would have denied yours. It's hard to accept help from those who make you feel as though you don't need it. 

Perhaps I said too much on this, but I was just hoping you understand why I needed him that night. I respect your rules and do not expect you to eliminate any, but if only you'll alter or ease them a little when it comes to that. Instead of staying in a bed with him, I'll gladly sleep on the couch. 

I believe I've told you my views on marriage before. As of this point in time, the legal definition of marriage is binding people financially. The spiritual form is very sweet and like the icing on the cake. But the deities are always watching. Mother Nature is always surrounding. Little rituals are almost unnecessary when you love someone enough to want to spend your life with them. If it would change your views on my closeness with Nurd, we'd both gladly get civilly married (he has stated this to me, so I mean it when I say both), though it would put us in a sport of financial trouble. We'd even be willing to get married in a not legal but spiritual and religious sense. To me, we are already bound, though. We are partners and will continue to be whether a piece of paper or a God or Goddess says so or not. I will spend the rest of my life with him in sickness and in health, I will love him full hearted, to be mine and to hold, and I will feel this exact way whether or not I had a piece of paper from a judge and/or ritual led by a priest or high priestess. 

[proto-homo]

Okay I just reread the first chapter of my manuscript and I’m gagged. I don’t remember this story being this good!! I’m definitely rewriting this. Please join me in being stunned

The Slayers

First Inscription

The first thing they taught us at the Bard's college was that the strings of fate connect everyone in one way or another. Slowly turning and tightening on the lute of life, tuning until the right note is produced, the right event takes place. Tuning eternally until all the strings produce a glorious harmony. I thought it was a crock of shit. Though to be fair, one semester wasn't enough to indoctrinate me to their proposed way of life. Especially when my reasons for being there weren't my own. "Become a bard," my parents pleaded. "Please do something with your life." Their words were harsh but they had to be for high elf prodigal wizards with a son who could make a pint of ale disappear quicker than he could a copper coin. I wasn't a complete magical failure, I just had no knack for it like my parents. They had clawed their way up the hierarchical elven ladder in a world that shunned our kind. We were dusk elves, not quite dark enough to be dark elves and nowhere near fair enough to be the prototypical waifish elf. Opportunities were far and few between for our skinfolk but my parents were changing that perception one draconian ritual at a time. I wasn't so lucky and I could tell growing up that they felt the same. So I followed their wishes and attended the college, learning to focus what little ability and skill I had. Unfortunately that one semester came and went in a deluge of offensiveness. Those backwater mages acted as if they'd never met a dusk elf and I developed an eternal scowl. My skin was an autumnal  symphony of crushed leaves and my eyes were browner than the deepest of earth's hues. We were creatures of nature and magic. Why wouldn't I look this glorious? My question went unanswered and my need for the school went with it. I was out promptly that solstice break, but not without my books and several stolen silver pieces from the campus vault, using the skills they taught me. Needless to say, I was banned and designated  the Rogue Bard. My parents weren't delighted by the news. We don't talk much these days but things are better. Mostly because of the exploits tied to my name. I've played for Kings and Queens all across and below Alstaff, fought bravely against deadly scourges, drank Orcs under the table, and romanced men and women(and Kings and Queens on occasion). All this while chronicling my adventures and deftly avoiding those pesky strings of fate. Or so I'd thought until I received a most auspicious invitation. It was early and I was far from awake when I heard my name being shouted through the halls in a manner I wasn't used to.

“Eonis Everfall of the Highdale Archmages!” boomed the voice down the hall, rousing me from a drunken slumber.

Thin sheets clung to my sticky exposed chest as the sunlight streaming through my window wreaked havoc on my senses. It was summer in the city of Faeron and the sun hung high at an angle above the town that made for astounding harvests and horrible hangovers.

The voice shouted again and I was swiftly reminded that a night of debauchery wasn’t the best thing to do every night. I slid out of bed as coordinated as I could muster. My head swum in dreaming mist as I made my way to the door, only to stop when a realization dawned on me. Nobody knew my full name, hell most people didn’t know my first name, but to call me so boldly and mention Highdale was a sure sign that trouble was brewing.

I staggered to my pack and drew a dirk, trying my best to not be as uncoordinated as the ale was making me. I was never that great at bladed combat but as I inched the door and opened it a crack, I reminded myself that as a bard I was always supposed to be just good enough.

“In here,” I shouted in a half assured tone. Anxiety bubbled in my stomach until the blankets behind me stirred.

“Eonis,” groaned the pile of sheets, “If there’s someone here to kill you tell them to come back later. I’m trying to sleep.” Tavaris emerged from the sheets like a wraith hunting for souls, delivering a glare that nearly made me forget he was naked. His ebony skin shimmered in the light as he stretched, giving off an inhuman glow intensified by his crimson boring into me. He had a predatory gaze, no doubt honed from his decades in the Assassin’s guild but whenever he stared at me, there was a softness behind it.

“You’re the only one who knows I’m here and I doubt you’d let somebody else take up a hit on me. You like a good challenge.”

He snorted as he looked me up and down, saying, “Your stance is terrible. You’d be flayed alive in seconds.”

His eyes darted to the ground and my focus followed to an envelope shooting from under the door. I turned to open it only to be greeted by an empty hall and my unease increased.

“Calm down, it’s just mail,” groaned Tavaris before slumping back into bed. I closed the door and picked up the letter, tearing it open with my dirk.

He was right. It was just mail. Stamped with a royal seal, the letter disclosed information about a formal event taking place in Balethorn, just two cities away. It was to be a splendid debutante's ball and the young miss had requested the presence of the fabled ‘rogue bard.’

I sighed in slight relief. Requests like this were routine but the fact still stood that they knew my name. I sat on the edge of the bed and read the letter to Tavaris as he wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face into my side.

“Sounds kinda like a trap,” he said, gnawing at my exposed skin. “Your music’s not that great anyway.”

I nodded along before he said his last line, falling back on him in retribution. He was right though, he had to be in his line of work. Traps, tricks, and treachery were all in the assassin’s handbook and if not for my dashing good looks, I’m sure I would’ve fallen to his blade when we met.

A simple quest made our paths cross; recover the children from the Sin Eater demon and find the one who summoned it. It was all fine and dandy till Tavaris dropped out of the sky on me and strung a garrote around my neck, letting me know there was far more going on than I thought. That day I learned that not everybody wanted to be saved. Some people enjoyed feeding sheep to the wolves to keep them at bay.

It wasn’t all bad though. I at least picked up a few new skills and a new murderous lover.

I looked back to Tavaris and shrugged. “I’ll do it. I haven’t been sucked into a primordial evil soup in months. Could be fun. I’ll let you know when I get back.”

I hopped off of him and began to gather my things before he said, “I won’t be here when you get back.”

I rolled my eyes. It was the same message he repeated every time before he vanished. Sure enough, before I got a second to say anything, he was gone. If there was anything of his I coveted, it was his mode of travel. I shook my head and began to gather my things, bemoaning the burden of the bard.

Lute, flute, sword, bow and arrows, lockpicks, small shield, chainmail, magic totem, magic tome, magic wand, and dirks. I ran through the list of my supplies as I suited up and gave my room the thrice-over before leaving. I carried the letter in hand as I strolled out of the inn. I read it again for good measure.

The insignia was nothing I’d seen before and that was saying something. I was a walking compendium of knowledge, a seeker of truth and historical lore, but as I brushed a finger over the wax stamp closing the envelope, I felt out of my element. I could see the strings of fate winding slowly but this was a new note being played. My only choice was to finish the song.

Faeron was unbearable when I stepped foot out into the sun. Quick cooling incantations were my only solace in the face of summer’s embrace. Out in the world, people were hustling and bustling around the town. Harvest was fast approaching and with it came the panic of superstition and the festival fervor.

There was a tale that traveled through agricultural circles around this time of year, the tale of Lady Amoundour. A lowly farm maiden with the blackest of thumbs prayed to the heavens for a healthy harvest. Her prayers were answered by the Sun with a hefty bounty but the Earth grew spiteful that she didn’t pray more to the dirt and so by way of winding roads, it sent bandits to raid her farmland. Luckily, she held fast in her beliefs of equal reverence and the Sun aided her, bringing its fiery rays upon the bandits and scorching them to dust.

The farmers took it as a parable about having equal deference to the components needed for a healthy harvest. I took it as a sign that the gods were petty and enjoyed us dancing for approval.

Regardless of my beliefs, Faeron was far into the festivities. Wood-carved Sun plaques hung from every home and business. Fresh dirt was tracked all across the ground of the city, ruining my new boots. Bakers yelled for people to come sample their Sun cakes and Dirt puddings, bringing a deluge of child patrons and sending a twinge of disgusted intrigue up my spine. Knowing these people, there was definitely dirt in those puddings.

I snatched up a Sun cake, tossing a few copper pieces to the vendor before making my way through the shops to the square. While my romp with Tavaris had been a great reason to stop in Faeron, I had a real reason for being there.

A huge crowd filled the square, cheering at a man dressed in robes of spun gold standing high up on a stage. He wore a bronze crown painted gold and revelled in the crowd's cheering before urging them to be silent.

“Welcome to the Amoundour Festival!” he shouted and the crowd’s cheering picked back up. I crept through the droves of people lining the square.

Every year the festival was held all across the world but Faeron was special. Only here, they held a very real reenactment of Lady Amoundour’s struggles, much to the dismay of the local farmers. For decades, one farmer would be chosen at random to act as the Lady of this year, devising ways to rescue their crops from very real threats. For decades, they would endure this trial or watch their crops be decimated and their land destroyed thanks to a magical artifact these fools should never have possessed.

I watched in silence, arms folded as the faux-Sun made his way across the stage to his throne and took a seat, gesturing for his servants. Dressed in drab, gray robes resembling clouds, a pair of sullen kids carried a gilded case containing the artifact in question.

It was called the Eternal Sun Rod in certain circles of collectors, a powerful gift from the gods on high. With it, the ruler of Faeron held a tight grip over farmland production, instilling fear into the hearts of any who would try to amass enough wealth to escape his rule. Every decade, he would wipe away the status of one family and every decade the people would cheer because it wasn’t them that time. This would be the last time.

I looked around at the painted on smiles and forced laughter as the faux-Sun did his dance up on stage. Sprinkled in the crowd were the broken faces of the farmers who banded together to hire me. Their offering had been a pittance but I wasn’t in this for the money. I was there to cut the strings of fate wound tightly around this town’s neck.

“The time has come, everyone!” decreed the tyrant as one his clouds dropped to one knee and presented him with a gilded box.

The crowd fell deathly silent when he reached into the box and began to rummage through it for the latest target. All I needed was a name. A name and I could start to put an end to this. I watched the people and saw the pain etched into their faces. Tyrants like this weren’t born in a day, not even a year.

They told me their festival used to be one of peace and joy, that at one point their lives were normal, but slowly it all unraveled until this was their way of life. I knew struggle, I lived it, and there was no way I’d let this happen to anyone else.

I felt the tension skyrocket as he withdrew his hand from the box and I began creeping back out of the crowd.

“Gilda Gletch!” He shouted, “Age sixty-two, childless widow. Oh this will be a quick one. Gilda, pray to the Sun for mercy and beg the Earth for forgiveness!”

Gasps rang out from the crowd. I raced to the edge of the town and hummed a bardic tune to myself. Song of Swiftness, spell number thirty-two in the overpriced pamphlet they gave me. With it, I was off, racing through the trees at breakneck speeds.

I could hear my father’s voice in my head. He’d told me to do something with my life and since that day I resolved to do everything I could.

I broke through the trees and out onto Gilda’s small corner of a farmstead. She was across the small field, sitting on the porch of her home in defiance.

“So it was me,” she called out as I approached her and delivered a strained smile. She nodded in return and waved me over. “It’s fine. Don’t be dismayed. I’ve lived through six of these festivals, seen them grow into something vile. I’m just happy it will all end today.”

Her tone was far from joy in the face of this impending raid and I could tell she had little trust in my ability. I didn’t blame her. We bards were seen as performers, consultants, skilled workers. Warriors were far from our image but that never stopped me.

I drew my sword and knelt at her feet, saying, “You’re right. It will end today. I’ll make sure of that.”

She looked into my eyes and for a split second I saw hope until fear snatched it away. I turned sharply to a band of six masked men emerging from the trees.

“What the hell is this?” asked one of them as he threw down a hololense crystal to project our images back to the town square.

They drew their weapons slowly, whirling them for effect. I stood and raised my sword, drew a wand from my belt and said, “Retribution, damnation, I honestly don’t care what you call me.”

They crept closer to me, closing the distance between us and I said, “Gilda...you might want to get in the house for this.”

A swordsman on my left charged as those words left my lips. I met his blade with my own, parrying the blow and leaping back before daggers sailed through the air. I traced their path to the slow moving Gilda and made a sharp dash to my right, blocking the daggers with my sword.

One by one they came at me, slashing as I leapt out of the way and blocked their strikes.

“Fancy dancer, are you gonna fight back?!” shouted one of the men as he swung his greatsword in an arc.

I ducked below his blade and raised my wand to his stomach, chanting, “Retch.”

He froze instantly, dropped his blade and grabbed hold of himself. He doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach.

“Never fancied myself for much of a dancer. Playing music was much more my thing!”

I whistled and tapped my sword. Like a tuning fork, it vibrated, sending sonic waves cross the field. The men dropped their weapons and clutched their ears as I drew daggers from my belt and launched a shower of blades.

I sheathed my weapons as they cried out in pain and drew my magic tome, chanting, “Sleep.”

The words drifted through the air, heavy with arcane intent and the men collapsed. I let out a quick sigh and wiped my hands clean. I walked over to each bandit and drew my blades from their sleeping bodies, making eye contact with the hololense crystal.

I held my breath, waiting for the searing light of the sun to crash down on me. When nothing happened I could tell the sight of me dispatching these goons left at least one person in shock.

“I take it by the lack of death rays you’re still stunned at my assault. No matter, I’ll be making it back to the city in just moments for a face to face. Ah, and don’t worry about your little sun trick. This arcane barrier I’m erecting will block out the sun.”

I smirked and raised my tome, chanting once again. My blood was ice water and my breath frost as the tome began to float before me. Waves of ice emanated from me, encircling the little farmland in their icy grasp. I looked up to the sky as I began to run back to Faeron and had to stifle a laugh when nothing attacked my barrier. I’d bluffed to high heavens and he believed me. That barrier of hoarfrost wouldn’t even survive a warm dinner roll bumping against it.

The streets were deserted the second I stepped foot into the city. The tension was thick in the air but I held fast to my defiant image. These people had been pawns in the hands of a mad man for too long. They needed a rallying point.

“Little early to be ending the party!” I shouted as I approached the town square. “If I remember the tale right, the Sun and Earth have a special bond, right? Well maybe it’s time you two got more acquainted.”

The faux-sun sat atop his throne, looking down at me as he lazily turned the rod in his hand. His expression read unimpressed but I was well versed in reading people. My little stunt on the farm had shook him. He had sent his men as bandits to raid a defenseless old woman and met the swiftest resistance. Now he was alone.

“You know nothing of the tale, boy,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes in a dismissive manner, “But you will learn the Sun’s power today!”

He slammed the staff on the ground and I chanted a Swift Song before the blazing beam burned through cobblestone. Beams of light followed my every step as I ducked and dodged the blazing energy, much to his frustration.

“Why won’t you stay still?!” he shouted as he jumped up from his throne.

I drew my wand and totem, raising the little symbol to my mouth and chanting, “Solaris”

He slammed the staff again and I froze, letting him hit me head on. The totem chimed when the light hit me, exploding and reflecting a portion of the light back onto the stage. Chainmail singed my flesh but I bit my lip through the pain and focused as the faux-Sun staggered back.

“Larghissimo,” I chanted as I raised my wand and the explosion on stage slowed to a halt.

The faux-Sun froze with a look of horror on his face. I approached, tapped my wand on his nose, and whispered, “Allegro.”

Instantly his head returned to normal speed and his anger came with it. He thrashed in the slowed mass of light, grumbling as he shouted, “Release me at once! I will have your head for this!”

I ignored his blustering and took a seat on his throne before asking, “What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be the sun, no? I’m just helping complete the effect.”

I watched him float their helplessly and thought of the Bard college’s teachings. Our spells were to help, not hinder. Our voices were to be a guide in time of need. Even the spells I’d used on the faux-Sun were non-combative. I couldn’t have hurt him if I wanted and boy did I want to. I let him float in stasis for a few seconds until his anger melted into existential panic.

“I could leave you floating here forever, a ball of light untouched by time,” I whispered into his ear, telling blatant lies.

Most people never studied our power or our limits and the dread in his face showed he was one of these people.

“P-please,” he cried out, sweat pouring from his face. “I-I’ll stop it, I swear. I’ll stop it. I’ll never attack another person again.”

He pleaded before I tapped my wand on the throne. He dropped out of the air as the light dissipated and I grabbed the Eternal Sun Rob, saying, “Not without this, you won’t.”

I waved my wand over the length of the staff, whispering ‘shrink’ into the ether until the Sun Rod complied. It shrank to the size of a quill before I slipped it in my pocket and stomped on the stage.

“People of Faeron, throw open your doors and enjoy your harvest. Now your festival can really begin!”

I shouted and slowly the people took notice. Windows slid open and doors with them before cheering rang out. Finally, their town had been set free. I was greeted with gracious hosts and deep vendor discounts but I couldn’t stay long. Not with the party on my heels.

I refilled my supplies, rented a horse, and I was off. Travel between Faeron and Balethorn was quiet. It seemed I had fulfilled my karmic duty as neither bandit nor bandersnatch attacked me on the road.

In fact, nothing seemed to make its presence known to me along the road. The silence became palpable the further I rode from Faeron but I soldiered on. Curiosity got the best of me and trap or not, I needed to know how they knew me.

The sunlight began to wane and for the first time since I set out, I felt a pair of eyes following. Monstrous trees cast tall shadows all around me, threatening to swallow the path before me. Even the horse felt the tension, straying off the road in fear.

“Shh, it’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whispered into the ear of the horse, thankful no one was around to see me trying to console him.

A few people see you talking to animals and rumors quickly spread. As if druids are the only ones in touch with nature.

His whining stopped for a second and as I leaned back, I caught sight of a light in the distance, beckoning my presence. This was it, had to be it. The closer I rode the more grandiose the building presented itself.

Dirt roads turned to pristine cobblestone, clacking evenly beneath my horse’s hooves. The mansion was a bulwark of civility in the middle of a savage forest. Gold lanterns lit the path before me, shining bright against solid red brick walls. A low overture began to fill the silence of the forest as a pair of stablemen greeted me at the door.

I dismounted and nodded to them both before they took my horse. Laughter spilled from the opening doors, making me immediately regret coming here.

Haughty laughter and sour notes filled the pauses in forced conversations between noble men and women. There were people of power and influence littering the room, keeping their political rivals at arms length and I began wondering just what I walked into.

“I see I’m not the only one lost here,” said a voice to my left.

I turned to see a young woman smirking at me with plump lips and a viper’s gaze. Thick coils of jet black hair encircled her head, covering one lavender eye. She folded her arms over the low-cut black dress that hugged her more than ample curves, letting the light bounce off her deep umber skin.

Our eyes met and at once I felt like the prey staring down his predator. She stood barely up to my chest but there was something about her that made her presence monstrous.

“S-seems that way,” I stammered before she made her approach.

“Iris Glaive, explorer extraordinaire who’s apparently been tasked with teaching a brat how to go spelunking. And you are?” she asked before looking away from me.

Her eyes scanned the room, continuously reading and assessing the gathered partygoers. There was something dark about her, a sinister air threatening to choke me. I could tell she knew and relished it.

“Eonis...Everfall and yes, I am quite lost. I believe I’m to be the party’s entertainment but it seems they already have a musician.”

Sour notes and uncoordinated key changes threw the entire overture away, leaving nothing but its crumbs behind but no one seemed to take note. I glanced down to Iris and she smirked, saying, “That’s a shame. I would hope your playing doesn’t make my ears bleed like this current amatuer.”

I smirked back to her as she took notice of the talentless talent and felt that predatory gaze soften. She tapped my arm and my heart skipped a beat when she said, “Come, there’s mead, and it’s far away from this sound.”

She turned to walk away and I followed but even a few steps behind, I felt her eyes hard pressed on me. She shared that she had received the same strange invitation as I did and intrigue got the best of her but the idea of her being a plain old adventurer didn’t sit right with me. There was something dark lurking beneath the visage before me and it could tell I saw it.  

She turned on a dime, handing me a glass of mead before giving my glass a light tap in toast and saying, “So you’re a bard, I see.”

I swallowed my mead and nearly choked when she made her quick assessment. I squinted and she raised a hand before saying, “How can I tell, you ask? There’s a little arcane trick they’ve taught you kiddies for centuries and it always makes my nose itch when you try it on me. Don’t you worry. There’s no need to read me. Our meeting won’t matter after tonight.”

She took a slow drink from her glass, smiling softly and I stared in silent contemplation. Who was this woman? What was she?

She smirked as if she’d heard my thoughts before delivering a sly wink. She leaned in close and stood on the tips of her toes, whispering, “Don’t worry bout a thing. Nothing sinister was meant. I was just saying it’s back to adventuring after this. Besides….even if it were sinister, there are plenty of guards here to stop me.”

She tapped my shoulder as she leaned back and her eyes darted around the room. Sure enough, there were several guards covertly stationed around the room at several windows and doorways. At a gala such as this, it wasn’t a strange occurrence to see a slew of guards spread around the place but Iris’ wicked tone seemed to suggest something sinister.

“Enjoy the party,” she curtsied and walking away.

I watched her disappear into the party, greeting high society types as if she’d entertained this sort before. She seemed right at home in this atmosphere of glitz and glamour. Neither gold leafed hors d’oeuvre nor jewel encrusted finery could dismay her sense of status. I found myself unable to take my eyes off her until a guard stepped in my path, causing me to stagger back in alarm.

“Sir Everfall, yes? You’ve been invited to a private dinner with the guests of honor,” he said through the iron helmet covering his face. I stood straight up and shook away my nerves before he said, “Do not worry about the entertainment. You will be compensated for your time here. Please, follow me.”

The guard spoke in a monotone voice, not once waiting to see if I was taking in anything he said. He turned and walked away with the suggestion to follow. I scanned the room for Iris to ask what she’d make of this new private invitation but she was already gone.

By now the room was lost in its revelry and as I passed through the dance floor at a brisk pace behind the guard, I could hear nothing but a string of sour notes being played. I could tell fate was giving me a sign but curiosity got the better of me. If only to see the guest of honor, I followed the guard into a large dining hall separated from the dance floor by a set of towering oak doors.

Inside I was greeted by an assortment of new faces and sure enough, Iris sat among among them. She raised a glass to me with a smirk before turning back to a heated debate between political rivals, instigating their argument.

The guard closed the doors and walked ahead to pull out what had to be my assigned seating. I followed, taking a seat only after noticing the ball of nerves dressed in ornate robes seated next to me. A lithe young man with cheekbones sharper than than the edge of a claymore fidgeted in his seat with his head down. He was a statue carved of red granite, moving incrementally before returning to his starting position. Tendrils of coarse black hair hung loosely over one side of his head while the other side was pinned back, revealing an elven ear.

“Nice to meet another elf here. I’m Eonis, Eonis Everfall,” I tried my best to start up a conversation without having him die of shock.

He nearly leaped out of his skin when he heard my voice, turning slowly to look at me with amber eyes through thick lenses of glasses. He cracked a smile that quickly faded to a grin before he looked back down and nodded.

“R-right. Yes, nice to meet you as well. I’m B-belia, Belia Borfin,” he stuttered before wincing and saying, “S-sorry. I’m nervous. I’ve never been to an event like this. I attended with my Professor and other students but it seems I’ve been separated from the lot.”

His voice rattled worse than his body did and I attempted a grin to ease his nerves, asking, “So you’re a mage?”

He inhaled a sharp breath before looking up and nodding quickly.

“Y-yes, well, I’m attempting to be...I’m not that good right now but my Professor says it’s to be expected of apprentices. I just hope to do my best”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. At least your not the son of archmages who can’t even make a coin disappear. You’ll do just fine.”

I winked to him as he looked into my eyes and he let out a nervous laugh that seemed to ease him a tick.

“Thank you.” He looked around the room, mouth agape in awe, asking, “Any idea exactly who’s party we’re attending?”

I shrugged at his question looking around in awe just as he did before taking another sip of mead. The room seemed to be filled with a hodgepodge of guests. An armored knight sat next to a cobbler and a craftsman on one side of the table while a drunkard, political figures, and socialites sat on the other side of the table. I spotted another patron, masked and lost in prayer before the grand doors slid open and gasps abound from all gathered as a familiar face made his presence known.

“Welcome,” said the tall high elf, dressed in extravagant robes of gold painted moons as he strolled into the room. Whispers spilled from the crowd as he tapped his staff on the ground before taking a seat at the head of the table.

“I’m not sure if an introduction is needed here but I will make one either way. I am Moridon Highwater of the Rolling Glens, Grand Magus of Alstaff.”

He nodded and closed his eyes as the crowds whispering grew but I could only stare in shock. Of course there was no need for introduction.

Moridon Highwater was known throughout the lands. Advisor to the King of Alstaff, Moridon’s power was unparalleled in the field of sorcery. Not even my parents held a candle to his might. He had been born the son magicless vagrants and quickly became the most powerful self-taught mage of our time. He was my mirror.

He opened his eyes slowly and I could feel his gaze brush by briefly as if he’d heard my thoughts. He looked around the table and grinned to the gathered before saying, “I must apologize for the lateness of our young miss. She has asked me to continue the dinner in her stead. It seems her dress was not quite right so we’re having the Modiste Magus conjure up a new dress.”

He chuckled and the room exploded in laughter but I watched in silence at his strained laughter. There was a venomous aura about him, a power he tamped down just to be around the gathered mundane. I could hear Belia’s dinnerware clatter as he put a hand on the table before pulling it away with his other hand.

He was pouring sweat and no doubt trapped between shock and horror at the power before him. I placed a hand on his and looked him in the eye, breathing slowly and nodding for him to follow. He took a few deep breaths before nodding quickly and I let go of his hand. It seemed he had yet to be trained on refining his aura and at his current rate, he was only seconds from being devoured.

My focus darted to Iris and from across the table I spotted her cold intentful stare focused squarely on Moridon as she sipped from her glass. As I looked around, it seemed the whole room was unaware of the power we faced, all except the three of us and the masked knight lost in prayer.

I turned back to Moridon and caught a fraction of a grin before he tapped his staff on the ground. Light flickered from the rose quartz crystal atop an angelic pair of wings that gilded the top of his staff before filling the room.

“Shall we feast?” he said with a smile before the doors opened up and several waiters poured into the room.

A buffet of the finest meats and cheeses littered the table as they brought out more and more entrees and desserts. People began jumping at the food before placing could even finish. They were ravenous, insatiable, and I couldn’t help but lose my appetite at the display.

My focus drifted to Moridon who sat stone-faced, watching the carnage without taking a bite to eat and I swallowed hard before asking, “This is nice and all, but who exactly is this ‘young miss’ we’re here to meet?”

His eyes darted to mine and I nearly collapsed in my seat from his predatory gaze. I could feel him, wriggling through my thoughts, through the entirety of my being before Iris cleared her throat.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” she said in defense of my questioning and the room seemed to take a break from eating all at once.

Moridon delivered a strained grin and I tried to hop out of my seat to no avail. I was paralyzed in fear.

“Oh you may know of her. Prestigious royalty from a land far from here,” he began to say as his voice lilted. “She was once the Queen of an entire realm, you see, but as you know, not everything lasts for everyone. Not even the eternal.”

He cut Iris a sharp glare before his face returned to a grin in seconds. I could see her shaking slightly but not once did she move to put down the glass in her hand. The mead vibrated with her nervous energy before Moridon continued.

“It seems not everyone was satisfied with her rule and so, under the cover of darkness, like the spineless wretches they were, her royal court committed a heinous act. You see, the young miss couldn’t be killed, no, not with the power she possessed. Her court knew it and to see her deposed, they hatched an ingenious plan. A crystal was forged with the power to capture a god and on that night they did as such, ensnaring her and shattering its pieces….Only, they thought this would be the end of the young miss but as the crystal shattered into endless shards, so did her essence, dispersing into the world and finding homes in the oddest of places. Knights, cobblers, craftsmen, and bards.”

His voice boomed as he said his last line and the room was frozen in horror before one of politicians screamed in terror and leaped from her seat. The whole room erupted in a panic and screams could be heard from the hall just beyond the doors. All the while, Moridon remained seated, smirking coyly.

“Oh there’s no point in running. Now that you’ve ingested the flesh and blood of the young miss, you won’t make it far,” he said before one of the guests jumped from their seat and doubled over, grabbing his stomach in pain.

He grabbed his throat as figures moved up it and tendrils shot out of his mouth. I leaped from my seat as Iris grabbed her stomach, brandishing my wand and shouting, “Wretch! Wretch! WRETCH!”

In rapid succession, I fired several spells around the room before my stomach rumbled and the doors flew open. I turned the wand on myself and fell to my knees as the searing pain of bile raced up my throat.

I pulled Belia under the table and grabbed a dagger from my boot as the marching of the guard’s feet filled the room.

“Don’t move!” I shouted before several hands pulled me away.

I turned my dagger on the armored hands of my captor, shouting, “Allegro!”

The spell took off, sending my dagger hand rocketing through the air with enough force to pierce metal but the guard barely registered the pain. My eyes darted around the room and I spotted Iris’ blood covered mouth before I looked to the still seated Moridon. Stoned faced and silent, he watched as the guards swarmed everyone before tapping his staff on the ground.

Darkness filled the edges of my eyes and then before I knew it, I was gone.

[harry-ruinsme-blog]

High School Daze

Sorry this took me so long to get out loves, sometimes life gets in the way! Hope you guys like some HighSchool!Harry, it was surprisingly hard to write. Don’t worry-- I have all your requests and they’re all coming. Also would anyone like to see something a little... smuttier soon? Let me know! Love to you all, thanks for the patience xoxo S.

can do some high-school!Harry write? imagine Harry having a big crush on you that his friends teasing him about it and he tries really hard to flirt with you and like sit with you in class, teasing you, make cheeky comments and ask you for a date

Monday mornings were already the worst. You had to trudge back to school after a fun weekend with your friends and family and try your best not to fall asleep during math class, which for some unknown reason was first block Monday morning. All of that coupled together had led you to hate Mondays, not to mention the obnoxious group of boys that you had to sit next to.

Even early on a Monday morning they never failed to be loud and rowdy, throwing crumpled balls of paper at each other and talking over the teacher until she inevitably gave up halfway through the lecture. And while math may not have been your favorite subject in school, you still needed to pass the class to do well on your A-levels and hopefully get into a good university. But in order to do that, you had to actually be taught. But your poor teacher was no match for the class of rowdy boys and as the year wore on you were worrying that there was no hope for you to pass the test come May.

“Settle down, c’mon let’s get on with it!” Came the voice of your teacher, a nice woman who went by Mrs. B. She had been at your school for decades and it seemed that she had lost interest in fighting her students long before you wound up in her class.

“How was your weekend, Mrs. B?” The question came from Harry Styles, unquestioned ringleader of the obnoxious kids in your class. His smile seemed to soften even the sternest instructors and most of the student body bent to his every will. He was notorious for his weekend ragers and his ability to charm his way into any girl’s pants he so desired.

“Fine, thank you Mr. Styles. And dare I ask how yours was?” All she received in return was a smirk from Harry and the catcalls of his followers that resounded around the room.

You rolled your eyes and leaned your head on your hand, zoning out on the board in the hopes that if you stared hard enough, the algorithms and equations would magically make sense. Just as you felt yourself nodding off, a low whisper sent a zip of electricity up your spine, “Are you as bored as I am?”

Slowly, you turned your head to meet the green eyes of Harry Styles. His facial expression gave nothing away, his close proximity making it seem like whispering to each other in class was a common occurrence. Styles, nor any of his friends, had ever really looked twice at you. You ran with a different crowd and to be fair, you had never given any of them more than a passing glance either.

“I’m more confused than bored,” you finally answered, meeting his eyes with bewilderment in yours.

“What’re you confused ‘bout,” he asked, his usual dimples traded in for a furrow between his brow. He leaned in a bit closer, one elbow leaning on your desk. You moved back a bit, not used to someone invading your personal space like he did.

“I’m most confused about your lack of respect for personal space,” you drawled back, pointedly staring at his elbow that was touching yours. With raised eyebrows and that signature smirk, he slowly pulled his elbow back, but didn’t relent.

“Seriously, s’it the equations?” he asked again, glancing towards the board.

“It’s everything,” you finally sighed, looking down hopelessly at the frantic notes you had taken in previous classes, “I didn’t get the first part and now everything else doesn’t make sense either.”

“She’s a bi’ of a rubbish teacher, hm?” he smiled.

“I think she’d be better if she could teach without being interrupted,” you quipped, glancing behind him at his friends who were watching your exchange with interest. You leaned back in your seat, as far away from Harry as you could get and willed yourself to tune into the lecture and try and catch what you had missed. You tried, you really did, but your attention span was shot once again when you felt a nudge against the elbow resting heavily on your desk.

Glancing down you found Harry casually sliding over a stack of papers, his eyes trained to the front of the room. You sighed and lifted your elbow, allowing him to put them on your desk, and stared down at the pile of notes now sitting on your desk. Thumbing through them quickly you saw they dated back to the first day of class, all detailed and explicit, much better than your own chicken scratch.

“Alright that’s it for today, remember the test we have coming up on Friday, see you all Wednesday,” your head snapped up as your teacher began to dismiss class, nearly twenty minutes before the bell was even set to ring. You scrambled to collect your notes as well as the ones Harry had shuffled onto your desk and put them into your backpack without ruining them.

Beside you Harry began to stand up, stretching and laughing at a joke one of his goonies had squeezed out. You looked up to catch his eye but he seemed keen to ignore you now, grabbing his backpack and heading for the door, trailing at the back of his pack of friends. You shuffled quickly after him, grabbing his arm once you were both in the hallway to turn him towards you.

“Uh, thanks?” You questioned, pushing a piece of wayward hair behind your ear.

He shrugged one shoulder and gave you a soft smile, “S’not a problem, sounds like they might do you more good than me.”

“Yeah, uh,” you cleared your throat awkwardly and glanced behind Harry to where a few of your friends were getting out of their respective classrooms, “Well I better go, I’ll get these back to you before Friday.”

With that you headed towards your own group, beyond confused as to why the Harry Styles had decided to strike up a conversation with you and then give you his notes. Which, were surprisingly detailed and methodical for someone who you thought paid absolutely no attention to his education.

“Wait!” Rang Harry’s voice, and this time it was his hand on your arm, spinning you around to face him. He pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, looking down at you in thought.

“Are you free tonight?”

“Um, yes,” you nodded, adjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder. The hallway was starting to fill up now, people giving you and Harry interested glances before minding their business.

“Come over to mine and we’ll study, I need help for our Bio quiz on Wednesday too,” he said handing you his unlocked phone. You stared at it dumbly for a minute and then looked back up at him.

“Put your number in so I can text you the address?” he asked, laughing a bit at your expression. With a new heat to your cheeks you hurriedly typed in your number and handed his phone back to him like it had burned you.

“Brill’, see you tonight, love,” Harry called, already running down the hall to catch up with his friends. A few heads turned your way to see who Harry was talking to and you found yourself cowering under the questioning gazes. Harry rarely hung out with girls that weren’t in his immediate circle of friends, and there were some interesting rumors about what Harry liked to do when he was “hanging” with them.

With that you turned to find your friends talking amongst themselves, discussing the weekend, none of them appearing to have seen your interaction. You stood silently with them, trying to piece together when you had become someone that Harry Styles took interest in. You were tempted to ignore his request to meet him, but you needed to do well on this test and the chance for a good grade won out over your skepticism about his kindness.

“Harry finally find the balls to ask you out?” she laughed, nudging your hip with hers. You turned to her with wide eyes, almost offended at the offhand comment.

“What?” You squeaked.

“Don’t look so shocked!” She exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you two began the trek to second period, “Shiloh told me that he’s been talkin’ to his mates about you; apparently it’s all Johnny’s heard about since you got sat next to him in math class.”

“I’ve literally barely talked to the kid,” you breathed, staring wide eyed ahead in front of you, completely overloaded with this new information, “I really don’t think that’s it. He saw how much I struggle in maths, everyone does, and he offered to help. He’s got good notes.”

“Whatever you say,” she smiled, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

You found yourself knocking at the front door of the Styles residence just after dinner on Friday evening. Harry suggested you come to his and split time between Math and Science, even promising you baked goods for having you come out on a Monday night. You were shocked that Harry was the one who suggested it seeing as you were used to seeing snaps of him out with his friends no matter what night it was.

All thoughts of the conversation between you and your best friend had been forgotten. There was one jab in the group chat, but it was more to have a laugh; no one really thought anything of Harry offering to tutor you, least of all you. Your friend Savannah had even explained it away saying Harry had tutored her in Maths last semester when they were in class.

The door swung open after just one knock and revealed a relaxed looking Harry, outfitted in a pair of joggers and white t-shirt. He ushered you in the house quickly, taking your backpack from you and leading you through the foyer towards the rest of the house.

“This is my mum, Anne,” he motioned to a woman sliding cookies onto a plate fresh from the oven. She had dark hair like her son and it was clear where his dimples came from once she smiled in your direction. She wiped her hands on her apron before offering her hand.

“Nice to meet you, love. Thanks for helping this one with his course work, he goes on and on about how smart you are,” she laughed. Harry pinked up at bit at the dig from his mum and dug his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

“I think I need more help in math than anything, it was really nice of Harry to offer,” you clarified.

“Alright well cookies are cooling here, I’m headed out for a bit so if I don’t see you, it was lovely to meet you,” she smiled, kissing Harry on the cheek and flying out the door.

Harry looked around awkwardly for a moment before clapping his hands together, “Righ’, well, shall we?” He led you to the dining room table where he was already set up, making sure to direct you into the chair next to his rather than across the table.

“Should we start with math and just get it over with?” you groaned, hauling the textbook onto the table. He nodded and the two of you worked diligently for the next half hour, Harry showing you how to do equations and then showing you again as you tried to do them on your own. He was incredibly patient, more so than you were, before you both decided if you tried any harder, you’d probably fry your brain.

“So what do you need help with,” you sighed, leaning back against your chair after finishing your third cookie. You chalked it up to stress eating from doing math and working with Harry. Being around him was a bit unnerving, mostly because you didn’t know why he had taken a sudden shine to you and was spending his Friday night helping you revise rather than at the party you knew was happening just a few streets over.

“Could we go over a few of the body systems?” he asked, “I keep mixing up all the parts of the brain and what hormones they control.”

And so you began again, going through Harry’s flashcards and giving him as many pneumonic devices as you could. He took to it quickly, much better than you had ever handled any equation and you were pleasantly surprised at how smart he really was. Harry Styles was much more than the popular class clown that you had made him out to be, turned out he actually had a brain up there.

“I’m gonna go to the toilet real quick, help yourself to anything and then can we go over photosynthesis?” You nodded and smirked as he tripped over his chair in his haste to go to the bathroom. He grimaced and then shot you a signature smirk before skittering up the stairs.

With no texts that needed your urgent response you began to shuffle and organize the papers spread out on the table in front of you, carefully separating what was yours and what belonged to Harry. As you shuffled papers around your eyes caught the marks Harry had received on his last Biology test and his last quiz, both of which were near perfect, and higher than yours. You moved more of his papers aside only to see much of the same, Harry scoring consistently better than you on all of his tests but one.

Harry strode back into the room, a cookie in hand as he leaned over your shoulder to see what you were looking at.

“Care to explain?” You asked, fanning out his tests on the table. You can’t ever remember seeing Harry Styles embarrassed, but his cheeks pinked up immediately and it looked like the cookie he had just scarfed down was going to make a reappearance.

“Listen Harry,” you sighed, standing up and beginning to organize your things, “Thanks for helping me with math, that was really nice, but you can forget whatever else you were expecting to happen.”

“No, I didn’, fuck,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair. You zipped up your backpack and spun around to let yourself, but Harry was in your way and looking the most frazzled you’d ever seen him.

“Move,” you intoned, arching your eyebrow in defiance as his feet stayed planted. You shook your head as you moved to skirt around him, but his arm shot out to block you once again.

“Wai’, lemme explain, please,” he begged, “Jus’ one minute.”

You looked at him expectantly and he swore again, “‘ve been tellin’ my mates for ages that I think you’re right fit and smart and so they’ve been fuckin’ buggin’ me to ask ya out but I didn’ know how so I though’ if I could just get ya to hang out wi’ me, I dunno,” he rambled.

“You think I’m fit?” you scoffed.

“Fuck, no, I mean, yes, but I think more of you than tha’,” he groaned. He ran his hands through his hair again before stepping directly in front of you and gripping the tops of your arms, “I thin’ you’re really sweet and cute and jus’ like, a good person.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation, knocking Harry’s from your arms, “So you’re not failing biology then?”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes Harry’s hands cupped your face and his lips were on yours. You let out a startled squeak at the sudden action, staring at his closed eyes as he kissed you before taking a quick step back and breaking apart.

“What the fuck was that?” you exclaimed, putting your hands on your hips.

“Love,” he sighed, “I’ve literally just sat here tellin’ you how I feel for the las’ five minutes. Fuckin’ faked failin’ a class jus’ to hang out with ya alone.”

“Well,” you sputtered, “You should’ve asked me before you kissed me.” Your thoughts were a jumble, the seemingly harmless study time now long gone from your brain, only to be replaced with the seemingly impossible turn of events that had just occurred.

Harry Styles had just confessed he thinks your fit and then kissed you. In his house. Where you thought you were just going to be tutoring him in biology.

His hand reached for yours, breaking your train of thought and focussing your attention back on him. His hair was mussed, eyes a bit wild, but still that bright green and his lips red from his apparently urgent need to kiss you just minutes ago.

“I’m almost positive you’re the only one who doesn’ know tha’ I fancy ya,” he laughed. You shook your head at him, completely bewildered as to how you had missed this. Before today he had barely spoken in your direction before. “My mates ‘ve been takin’ the piss outta me all semester, figured it was time I did somethin’ bout it.”

“All semester?” you squeaked.

“Yeah, your friend Shiloh talked ‘bout ya a bit and then Johnny said you were nice and so I watched ya in class, sounds a bit creepy now,” he mumbled, fingers slotting between yours with ease. You nodded, trying to take in all this new information and process it while now holding hands with him. And he seemed to be getting closer, you could smell the cookie he had just eaten on his breath.

His free hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking by your temple gently, “Can I kiss ya?” Words seemed impossible so you gave a small nod.

Now this was a kiss.

His lips were soft and smooth as they covered yours. His head was tilted at just the right angle so your noses didn’t touch and your body seemed to mold to his as you relaxed in his hold. You felt his smile in the kiss and it triggered your own. And as he went to pull back, you surged forward, reconnecting your lips much to his delight.

So you stood in his dining room with your backpack on, pressed up against Harry Styles as if your lips had fused together. Every once in awhile he would hum low in his throat, his head shifting to a different angle and you were more than happy to follow his lead.

When you both finally parted you were sure that your lips looked as swollen as his, if not worse. His cheeky smirk was back and he bit his full lower lip as he looked at you, eyes shining as he let go of your hand to rest both on your lower back. You hummed in content, hands falling to his hips as you began to process the turn of events in the last hour.

“So you really don’t need help in biology?” you checked. He let out a barking laugh at that, burying his head in your shoulder for a moment to compose himself.

“No,” he smiled, “But you do need my help in maths.” You blushed a bit at that, shrugging in defeat. He pinched the apple of your cheek a bit, seemingly pleased with the reaction he had gotten.

“Wanna come over tomorrow then? We’ll study for the test on Friday, go over more equations,” he offered.

You looked at him dubiously, one eyebrow arched in disbelief, “Are we actually going to study or are you just trying to lure me into snogging you all night.”

He had the audacity to look offended, resting one hand on his chest in surprise, “Love, I think we both know I don’t have to lure you,” you rolled your eyes and moved toward the door again, a playful grin on your face, “But yes,” he smirked, pulling you back, “We’ll actually study, we’ll save the snogging for Friday nigh’ when I take you on a proper date.”

You looked at him in thought before nodding slowly, “Alright Styles, you’re on.”

“Perfect,” he leaned down and grazed another kiss over your bruised mouth before leading you to the door, “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow mornin’, drive ya to school wi’ me.”

“Harr-”, you sighed.

“‘S’nough outta you, gotta go text my mates that they can stop givin’ me shit now that I finally kissed ya. And that I can’t pick ‘em up in the mornin”.”

[handsingsweapon]

9. For the October challenge with Phichit and anyone else you'd like to scare a bit 😂

9: A fun, creepy night of urban exploration gets the character(s) into trouble.

1. This is a college/frat AU because why the heck not2. credit: https://detroit.curbed.com/maps/thirteen-haunted-creepy-or-spooky-detroit-places3. putting all of these below cuts just in case

“Yuuri.” Phichit has a specific tone of voice he uses when he’s whining, which Yuuri now knows is his cue not to look at the Thai skater. Looking, he learned, back in Phichit’s first semester in Detroit, when they were both still living with Celestino, was always a fatal mistake. Phichit has better puppy-dog eyes than an actual puppy-dog, and Yuuri would know, he’s got experience. “Yuuri,” he repeats, forlornly, and finally Phichit Chulanont forces himself to endure the indignity of standing between Yuuri and the television screen. Normally he’s got the other playstation controller, but not tonight; tonight he’s trying to talk Yuuri into going along to the Halloween party that Sigma Theta Upsilon has put together this year. “It’s called a ghost float.”

“Phichit, nothing about walking through old Detroit until midnight at the end of October sounds even remotely reasonable,” Yuuri grumbles.

Phichit tries a series of enticements:

“Drinks are going to be half off at every pub along the way.”

“No.”

“We can wear a couple’s costume so nobody hits on you.”

“No.”

“Victor Nikiforov’s the one giving the haunted tour talks.”

This, at least, makes Yuuri die on-screen, and he tosses the controller aside, and looks up with a scowl. “Liar. Christophe Giacometti’s giving the haunted tour talks.”

Phichit has a sinister grin whenever Yuuri’s walked into a trap. “Oh,” he hums, innocently. “So at least you looked, huh.”

“No.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit repeats. “Ghost float.”

Yuuri grumbles something about Phichit, Christophe Giacometti, and the phrase notice-me-senpai, but he eventually agrees. “This has nothing to do with Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri says, in a tone of voice that Phichit imagines Yuuri likes to think means something like let’s be clear or I want to be understood.

It actually means: I am lying through my teeth. 

“Right,” he chirps, ignoring Yuuri Katsuki’s no-good, mega-crush on Sigma Theta President Victor Nikiforov for the millionth time. Their first-ever discussion on the topic ended with this: He’s probably not even gay, Phichit. Phichit thinks Yuuri’s out of his goddamn mind and his gaydar is broken: nobody dresses like Victor Nikiforov does and is straight. Not that Phichit’s interested. He’s seen Victor and Christophe both in a swimming pool: one of them turns a strange shade of red with exposure to just forty-five minutes of sunlight; the other one turns into bronze Adonis. “I’ll take care of costumes.”

“I get veto rights if you do anything ridiculous,” Yuuri mutters.

“I’m offended,” says Phichit, who is only offended because his top three ideas are now entirely off the menu.

The party starts at 9 PM at Belle Isle. In spite of a significant amount of honking, there’s no sign of a white deer, or a woman’s ghost.

Phichit has done Yuuri a favor: together, they’re the dynamic duo of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Yuuri is the curmudgeon in a Red Wings jersey; Phichit thinks he’s in-character already. Phichit is Ferris Bueller, of course; he found the awful jacket and the leopard vest at Goodwill and counted his lucky stars. Currently, he’s counting them again, because Sigma Theta’s Vice President has shown up as Hansel from Zoolander, which means … Ah, yes. Phichit only has to look over his shoulder at Yuuri to witness his reaction to Victor Nikiforov in red leather pants. “He dyed his hair,” Yuuri whispers, with a choked, cut-off whisper towards Victor-masquerading-as-Derek. “Why did he dye his hair?”

“Gonna wash it out for him, sweetheart?” Phichit offers, batting his eyelashes. Yuuri hits him. “Ow!” 

The Ghost Float turns out to be mostly large-group pub crawl, with a few of Detroit’s landmark stops along the way. A few people peel off with Georgi Popovich at the Leland Hotel, evidently intending to brave the Industrial club in the basement. At the Alhambra Apartments, Christophe tells a story about a scorned chef who once poisoned the residents after her demotion. Apparently two people died. 

Victor Nikiforov’s eyes sparkle like he might actually cry, and he wraps his arms around himself and looks like a very distraught Derek Zoolander. 

Yuuri looks at Victor like someone’s kicked his puppy. Blue steel, indeed.

By 11PM, Phichit’s officially daunted: he’s able to walk in a straight line because Yuuri is able to walk in a straight line. Even though Yuuri’s face is already flushed from drinking and the cold, he’s got legendary endurance when it comes to this sort of event, the kind of reputation that got solidified last year at a New Year’s Eve party where he wound up running across the snow-covered quad with a tie wrapped around his head and his pants missing. They are nowhere near pants-missing territory yet. At least not in Yuuri’s case. Phichit makes no promises for himself because Christophe’s been the one telling all of the ghost stories.

Christophe tells the story of an Italian immigrant who set up shop as a mystic and would-be cultist. “Evangelist prescribed all kinds of strange medicine,” Giacomtti intones as they stand on the grass lot that was once the Evangelist home on St. Aubin Street. “He did expensive psychic readings, gave out herbal remedies, wrote a four-volume Occultist bible.” 

“Love potions,” says Victor Nikiforov, who has been uncharacteristically quiet for a great deal of the trip. It’s unusual for Christophe to do all of the talking. He smiles, tight and quick, when the assembled crowd whistles and hoots; Phichit elbows Yuuri; Yuuri stomps on his toe. “He made love potions.” 

Phichit thinks he might be looking at Yuuri. Yuuri is trying to look anywhere except Victor Nikiforov’s ass in those pants. It’s not working. Phichit is working off of two hypotheses currently: one, he is beginning to suspect that Victor Nikiforov might have a no-good, mega-crush on Yuuri Katsuki; two, he’s starting to think that Victor hates ghost stories.

What he needs is the right environment to stage a test of these two theories, but he keeps getting distracted by Christophe, gorgeous Christophe, Christophe who could read Phichit the dictionary and leave him hanging on every word. It’s not fair that someone in the universe has a body constructed for sex and gets to possess that voice. “Had a lot of enemies, too,” Christophe is explaining. “People who thought they’d been ripped off.” Phichit’s not sure where Christophe manages to pull pictures of Benny Evangelist’s creepy, paper-mache God-dolls from, but he’s got them, and they’re being passed around. He shivers. It’s not because of the beer, and it’s not because of Christophe’s voice. 

“He cut a business deal involving some lumber, promised to pay the delivery man in cash the following morning,” Christophe intones. “Morning came and went. So did a neighbor, who found all six bodies: Benny, 43, his wife, Santina, 36, their four children, Angeline, 8, Matilda, 5, Jay, 3 and their 18-month-old son, Morrio. According to the police report, good old Benny’s head was sitting on a chair next to the bed he and his wife died in.”

“Yuuri,” whispers Phichit, who quickly passes off the handout, and who tells himself he’s getting two drinks at their next bar, “that’s messed up.”

“You want a real ghost story?” Yuuri raises his eyebrows. Apparently he’s just getting started. “You ought to hear about some of the shit from back home –”

“Hard pass,” squeaks Phichit. 

They make it to Elmwood Cemetery at midnight. It’s supposed to be the last stop of the tour, so to speak, largely because the gates are closed at this hour, and Victor and Christophe have some responsibility, when it comes to university rules. The problem with this is simple:

Yuuri Katsuki is drunk. “What,” he complains, after Christophe tells another round of stories. “That’s it? We’re just going to stand here?”

“You have a better idea?”

Phichit hooks his fingers into Yuuri’s Red Wings jersey, uselessly: Yuuri’s an athlete, and he’s over the fence like a shot, waving his arms from the other side. “C’mon,” he taunts. “You scared?”

Phichit looks at Yuuri.

Victor looks at Yuuri, and then Victor looks at Christophe. Phichit does not understand the reason for Christophe’s smirk; he only knows it’s unfairly attractive. “You just gonna let the ghosts get him, then?” Christophe asks.

This is how about six or so of the party-goers wind up climbing over the fence, and how Phichit Chulanont gets lost by himself in the cold of a cemetery, wondering how it is that Yuuri Katsuki could ruin something called a Ghost Float, put on by Christophe Giacometti. Everywhere he turns he hears distant voices; probably his friends, looking for him, but who can be sure? It’s dark, and his phone has already protested the use of its flashlight once with a low battery warning, consequence of his overuse of Instagram earlier in the night. 

Leaves rustle behind him. 

Phichit thinks he hears footsteps.

When he turns around, nobody’s there.

Yuuri, I love you, and I’m going to kill you.

There’s breath on his neck, a whisper against his ear. “Boo.”

Later, there will be conflicting stories about this incident. Christophe Giacometti will insist that Phichit Chulanont screamed; Phichit Chulanont will tilt his chin up, dark eyes flashing, and insist that he roared like a lion.

He shrieks, he nearly falls over, he finds himself in Christophe’s arms.

“Have you seen Yuuri?” Phichit asks, far too rapidly, trying to play it cool. He’s Ferris Bueller. He’s the coolest kid.

“He’s with Victor.”

“With Victor or With Victor?”

Christophe’s eyes sparkle in the dark. His innocent face somehow betrays both nothing and everything. The story will come out by Christmas, by the time Yuuri and Victor make it official: Nikiforov hates ghost stories, and horror movies, and junk food, and a lot of other things Yuuri loves, and somehow they’re still disgustingly perfect for each other. “We’ve got everyone,” Christophe says instead. “Came to get you. Were you really that scared?”

“No,” Phichit lies, putting on a brave face.

“Oh.” Christophe looks thoughtful. “Cold?”

Now Phichit’s not sure where this is going. “… No?”

“That’s a pity,” Christophe murmurs, making sure Phichit’s righted on his feet before letting go and taking a few steps back towards the path he must’ve come through on. He tut-tuts underneath his ridiculous blonde wig. “Now what am I supposed to offer, huh?”

Phichit catches on quick. “Oh,” he says, falling in step behind Christophe, and trying to tell himself it’s not because he’s looking at Giacometti’s ass. 

“In that case, I was fucking terrified, and I’m freezing, too.”