#i miss the summers spent going to my dad's hometown and spending hours on the beach with my cousins going sunburnt from going too early in

[heleneplays]

spiritually speaking, this is where i am

#feeling like pure shit i just want her back #*bonks pandemic* #okay but. i highkey miss the sea today #i miss the summers spent going to my dad's hometown and spending hours on the beach with my cousins going sunburnt from going too early in #*clown noises* #i'm really going through it #beach aesthetic #mod lee speaks stuff #mod lee things #personal.txt

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

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

(series masterlist)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

but your parents were the opposite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and apparently, so will you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how was your semester?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you okay with the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

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

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

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

never looking so... teasing and playful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you didn’t have to know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he doesn’t know when this happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he did).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but she could’t know that.

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

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

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

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

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

“do you still wanna come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“eunbi...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you miss seeing them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what? she beeped at me.”

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

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

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

“where to first, mr. park?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is this what you wanted?”

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

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

“w-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

two can play at this game mr. park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“true. it’s really good.”

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

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

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

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

“hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unless the pull was so desperate.

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

strike one:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

strike two:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n...”

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

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

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

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

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

“no. no, no, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that, and because you’re both really hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something in you tells you it’s him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“goodnight, mr. park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

get all of his stress out in the form of-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud. 

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.  

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms​ @khjssss​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek​

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78 

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

[gucciwins]

Roses and Romeo

Harry and Y/N come back to their hometown after eight years to open up a time capsule they buried ten years ago as high school sophomores. 

Word count: 20,534

A/N: Hello beautiful friends, hope you’ve been well. I’m really excited to share this story. It is a former high school sweethearts to lovers. Thank you to @havethetimeofyourstyles Jill for creating timetravelathon and allowing me to participate. I am very sorry it’s later but I finished!!! I do hope you all love it. 

Also this story is my baby, because i’ve never hit 20k before so this was new and exciting. I just had so many ideas for the story.

please come and tell me your favorite part!

_____

DECEMBER 1989 - SENIOR YEAR 

It's December, and all that is on her mind is how the grass would look covered in snow. The cold breeze, an extra jacket to stay warm, a blanket to bundle up with her favorite person. Safe to say, she can only imagine it because California, specifically Southern California, isn't so keen on giving her this one gift she asks for each year.

A huge smile spreads over her face as soon as she sees her house up ahead. 

It's not huge, but it is perfect for Y/N. She has the best memories growing up in a house full of love and laughter and the most gorgeous flowers. The iris and tulips bloomed extra bright this year. There is never a day her mom isn't fixing the garden. Her mother always makes sure she has fresh flowers in her room; right now, for the week, she has purple tulips. Also makes a lovely gift to take to her boyfriend. Harry always blushes when she brings him flowers. 

It also gets her extra kisses. 

Harry parks right outside but doesn't rush out to open her door like always, so she turns to look at him. He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel; she patiently waits for him to speak up. 

She'd wait all day if she could; he has a beautiful face, one that she will never get tired of gazing at. She especially loves that curl that flops down over his forehead; as much as he pushes it away, it bounces back as if he never moved it.

"It's Friday, love." Harry begins, "I think you should consider coming with me to a party." 

She pouts. "No, I want to listen to that new record my dad found, and I also have lots to study. Big exam on Monday."

"You're always studying." He groans. 

She frowns. "Not true! Calculus is my biggest enemy. Mr. Leanza is not easy on us." 

"Okay, Miss 101%." He pokes her cheek. 

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

"I'm not going to go just for you to tease me." 

Harry leans over and steals a kiss before she can dodge him. "Let's play a game." He sees her roll her eyes but asks her to hear him out. 

She gestures for him to go on. "I go in and quiz you. Zero wrong out of all the flashcards you have in that bag of yours, and I get to take you with me. I already have parent permission. I'll have you know."

She narrows her eyes at him. Not ever surprised that her parents agreed, they trust Harry. He's given them no reason not to. She's about to tell him, no, but he gives her a big smile. His dimples are on full display, and she finds herself agreeing. 

She mutters a small "okay." 

Harry smiles, knowing how she likes to make him work for it, but he really enjoys finding new ways to win her over. He might have cheated, flashing her his dimples that he knows she can't resist, but he never said he played fair. "Only if I get to drive Nessie." 

Nessie is Harry's classy white 1966 Mercedes-Benz 230 SL. She was never interested in cars, but Harry speaks so fondly of his car that she has come to learn so much about it and loves it just as much as Harry and her father together taught her how to change a tire and check the oil on Nessie. They want to prepare her for anything, and she is thankful because Harry likes to test her from time to time. 

Harry smirked, knowing how much she loves driving. She loves it but does not cave in letting her parents get her a car. Her parents have wanted to get her a car since she got her license at sixteen, but Y/N claims it is too much money to spend.

Her parents tell her they have saved enough for her and her education. It's like raising an only child. They remind Y/N all the time since her brother has graduated university and now lives in San Francisco as an engineer in a growing company. 

Harry has been meeting discreetly behind her back with her parents on gifting her a car this Christmas. Although he fears that having a car will mean less of him driving her around. Meaning they will spend less time together and fewer backseat make-out sessions, but on an upside also means he'd have to help her christen it. 

"Darling, you dating me for my car?" 

"Yes, dearie. I started dating you back in our first year because you had Nessie, not because of those dimples and lame jokes.

"You told me you love them!" Harry gasps, offended. 

"Tell you what you want to hear." She shrugs, getting out of the car. 

"Hurting my feelings, love." Harry now stands in front of her taking her bag from her hand and closing the door behind her. 

"Let's get inside." She pushes him to walk in quickly, knowing her parents aren't home yet and her mom isn't due for another thirty minutes, and she would really love to squeeze in a make-out session. 

"Compliment me, then we can go in." Harry stands firm in front of her, a teasing glimmer in his emerald eyes. 

She reaches up and places her hands on his cheek, planting a small kiss on his nose.  

"You're a dreamboat, Styles." She whispers.

Harry can't help the blush that seems to be taking over his entire face. 

She pecks his lips and skips around him. "Let's get studying, then you can help me pick my outfit for later." 

Harry shakes himself out of the trance she always seems to leave him in. "God knows you need it

JUNE 1998 - SUMMER HOME 

Y/N had always known she was a bit crazy but honestly, deciding on making a 44-hour road trip from Massachusetts to California, where her hometown of Aurora takes the cake. 

Yes, she knows how unsafe it is to be a woman on the road alone, but she saved up for the trip and would be spending the entire summer home for the first time since graduating high school. A plus was that she knows the map really well, having studied it hard like one of her anatomy books. Also, helped that her father quizzed her on what roads and exits she would be taking. 

She's a good driver; her father always told her everyone else is who she had to watch out for. Honestly, she thanked her family for pushing her to drive more, and now she loves being behind the wheel. 

The road was never-ending, taking her where she wanted, and currently, she was aiming for home. 

It's four hours until she reaches home, a home she has not lived in for over eight years. A place that holds her most precious memories as well as most heartbreaking.

She's driving with the window down, enjoying the breeze, knowing the heat will only get worse the closer to home. A car passes next to her; she looks over briefly, taking in the vehicle's blue color. It does look a bit old; as the driver accelerates their speed, she notices that it's a Mercedes-Benz but can't make the model seeing as the driver must be eager to reach their destination now speeding off. If she's honest, those types of cars remind her of one person, and that's how she knows she'll never escape because she finds meaning for them in anything and everything life has to offer. 

The last few hours on the road pass relatively quickly because the next thing she knows, she's parking her Jeep Cherokee in what she used to call her parking. This car has spent nine years with her and runs like a dream. It was a gift from her parents, and at the time, she was nervous about the gesture but really grew to love it. It also came in handy, seeing as she now lives far from home and visits as much as she can. She hopes to make more trips up now that she has residency but knows it will be harder to get holidays off. 

Her parents understand; they do. She's following her dreams and achieving each one, and that is all they could ever ask for. 

Y/N gets out and gets her suitcase; it has her essentials and anything she's missing; she can come out later to get it, well her father will most likely fight her and do it on his own. 

Just as she is about to open the door, it swings open. Her mother doesn't give her any time to react and simply wraps her in a hug. A tight one full of love and happiness, an embrace she will never get tired of. 

"Hi, momma," Y/N murmurs, not at all ready to let go.

"Hello, my sweet girl. It's good to have you home." 

"It's good being here. Feel younger already." 

"Ah, same here. Come inside; I have lemonade served up and muffins because they are your favorite." 

Y/N smiles, knowing how much her mother made sure to have her well-fed always. No matter what she told her, she wanted her with meat on her bones. This also meant anyone who she brought home was given a big meal as well. Telling everyone and anyone they were too thin then proceeding to provide them with a second serving. This was her mother's way of getting into people's hearts through their stomachs. 

Y/N walked into the kitchen and smiled at how nothing had changed. Hanging on the refrigerator were her three graduation photos: high school at seventeen, ready to take the world by storm, at twenty-one graduating with the highest honor from Columbia University, and the last was graduating Harvard Medical school this past spring. She knew the next to join would be a photo of her on the first day of her residency. 

"Your father refuses to take any down; when your brother comes into town, he complains. Your dad shuts him up by telling him to go be a doctor, and then they could talk." 

It warms Y/N's heart that her parents are proud of all the accomplishments she has made. It's been a tough road, but nothing stops her until she accomplishes her goals, and starting her residency is the next stop. 

"Like dad's office is covered full of his accomplishments since entering that job in San Francisco." She jokes, transitioning the conversation away from herself.

"The oldest child always seems to be the most jealous." Her mother reminds her.

After eating a muffin or two, her mom sends her off on a walk, not wanting her to be cooped up in the house on her first day back. She has always loved walking around. It's something she did when her friends weren't able to offer her a ride. Also, her parents would walk her to the park every weekend growing up to run around in the grass and ruin more clothes with grass stains.

It's no surprise that she arrives at the entrance of the town's park. It looks like there is no one around until she really enters and finds a family seated on a picnic planet as their youngest tries feeding their oldest strawberries. It's a sweet sight. 

She keeps going, not at all wanting to disturb; soon enough, she enters the part of the park no one really visits and finds the old park bench with lots of initials carved in the wood, hers included. It creaks as she sits on it; she smiles, knowing that it is something that has not changed. 

There aren't many flowers in this corner, just a big willow tree offering her shade that she very much enjoys. 

It's nice being home, she's missed it, but she has loved living in new places, making new friends and connections. She spent her first four years in New York, and she loved the environment. It was a university filled with thousands of people never seeing the same face twice in the halls. Everyone was always in a rush to get somewhere but not here, not at home. Everyone stops her for a conversation. They talk to her as if no time has happened, as if she was still the young girl who helped her mom tend the garden each weekend. 

In a way, she always will be. 

She wanted this time to explore and travel because she knows this where she'll come back one day to lay her roots. She and her future husband will marry here, maybe at the botanical garden with the beautiful flower arch all year round. It's where she sees her children growing up and running around as she once did. She's got her residency to finish up, but she's looking forward to when she can call Aurora home again. 

After sitting for a while, she decides she will come back with a book or two next time. If she's going to be here all summer might as well start by doing some reading on books she has not gotten around to reading. Y/N is thinking about leaving when her eyes spot a couple coming down a hidden path, a small daisy behind the girl's ear, her arm tight around her boyfriend's arm. He's got the biggest smile on his face. They look so lost in each other, one can feel their love. 

It reminds her of when she used to do that. When she did that with Harry before they broke up and never spoke again. It breaks her heart, but it also brings back some of the best memories. He'd always bring her here just so they could talk for hours so that she'd tell him more about the flowers and to kiss in private. 

One of her favorite memories is when they were in their third year of high school, and he asked to meet for a surprise. She stands up and shakes the memory away, not wanting to get lost in her thoughts. It's harder to do now that she's home and she can see him everywhere she looks. 

With that last thought brushed away, she decides to walk back home. She's got a few days to herself before meeting with everyone; there was the big reason she was back in town. 

It was time to open a box of memories. 

APRIL 1989 - JUNIOR YEAR

Harry is up to something. 

She suspects something because he made her walk to the park when he would always be quick to offer her a ride. Sure, it's only a ten-minute walk from her house, but he always says something along the lines that not everyone is as kind as they seem. 

It's April, and the flowers are in full bloom. She hears the birds singing, and she swears they sing of the beauty of the flowers. It's also bee season, meaning lots will be around the park, and as much as she loves them, Harry has a big fear of them. Y/N has mentioned various times that they don't mean to harm him; it can just happen. Especially if they get startled.

Y/N takes note of a new flower; it's a small white four-petaled flower that grows in fragrant clusters. They smell divine, but she knows she has never seen them. She really wishes she had her father's polaroid on her to take a photo and show her mother. Any other day she would turn back to do just that, but Harry is waiting on her. 

She walks to the back of the park where Harry has claimed their spot, their initials carved in the bench make sure of that. He's standing next to the viola's, and they stand dull next to Harry. 

"Hiya, angel." Harry greets hands hiding behind his back.

"Hello." She greets softly; Harry can easily note she's nervous. Any other time she would have given him the biggest hug, but right now is keeping an appropriate distance. 

"Are you nervous?" He teases, which honestly calms her down because if he's teasing her, it surely means he doesn't want to break up so she can toss that idea right out. 

The last few ideas left are that it's an important anniversary and she's forgotten, or he just wanted to be romantic. 

She hopes it's the latter. 

"Not so much anymore." She replies truthfully, stepping closer, desperately wanting to give him a hug. He looks warm in his knitted baby blue sweater; she knows it was a Christmas gift from his grandmother, his new favorite. 

 If he's not wearing his cardigan, he's wearing his varsity jacket, but it's at the dry cleaners because when it's not in his possession, it's in hers. She likes the heaviness of it, how small it makes her look. Harry is the perfect height, standing at what she thinks is 6'0, but she can't be too sure. His broad shoulders only seem to grow stronger each summer after returning from two weeks of football camp. At this point, she wears his varsity jacket more than he does. Sure, she can get an academic one she has more than enough patches to choose from, but it just isn't the same; besides, she rather spend her money on books and records. 

Harry tells her his favorite thing about her wearing his jacket is that it has his last name. He knows marriage is long down the line, but he does hope to share the same last name one day. 

It's his most prominent dream.

But currently, his big dream at the age of seventeen is asking the prettiest girl to prom. 

Harry brings his hands forward to reveal a dozen lavender roses in his hand. Y/N gasps at their beauty, not at all expecting this. They are gorgeous, and she can't wait to show them off to her mom as soon as she gets home. 

"My love," Harry starts closing the gap between them and bringing her left hand to his lips to place a soft kiss before setting it back down to rest close to his heart that is beating just for her. "Will you do me the honor of being my date to prom?"

She smiles wide, not at all expecting him to ask, let alone for it to be this romantic and intimate. 

"Yes, of course." She wraps her arms around his neck, and Harry spins her around, letting out a small holler of excitement. 

"The roses are beautiful; they must have cost you a pretty penny," Y/N tells him as soon as he sets her down so she can admire them again.

"Well, darling. You're worth every one. It also pays that your mom gets on well with the town's florist." 

She giggles, nodding. 

"Now, how about we walk over to my car and celebrate with a make-out." Harry wiggles his eyebrows at her, knowing he needs very little to convince her. 

"Harry!" She chastises, looking around to see if anyone heard, but the park is empty, not a soul in sight. "How about we take a stroll around the park, then we'll see afterward." 

"You're a little tease, love." She leans in and pecks his lips two times. He tries for a third, but she hurries off. 

"Come on, dove. We've got to see the rest of the flowers that are blooming." Y/N's voice is full of excitement at the chance of walking around the park for the next hour, hand in hand with her boyfriend. 

Harry grins happily, following after her, he may be young, but he knows he will do whatever is in his power to always see her happy and smiling.

JUNE 1998 - HOME

"Dad!" She yells as soon as she walks in the door; she sees him stand quickly from his seat on the couch and embraces her in a big hug.

"My baby is home." He whispers. 

"I missed you." 

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"How was work?" 

"Awful, when I knew I had my two favorite girls at home waiting for me."

Y/N laughs. "Always a sap, dad." 

Her mother makes her presence known. "This is a lovely sight. I've missed it." 

"Yes, as have I." Her father gives her one last kiss to her head and lets her go. 

"Any plans?" Her mother questions walking back from the kitchen, placing a cup of tea for Y/N on an old family coaster. 

Y/N takes a seat on the couch, as do both her parents wanting to carry on the conversation.

"I'm meeting Sarah and Sydney for breakfast one of these days, most likely going to spend the entire day together. Then, everyone else won't be coming around until the week after. Think it will be on Friday, seeing as that is what worked for everyone's schedule. 

"Happy to see your friends." Her mom states, the wide smile on Y/N’s face confirming her statement.

"Yes, chatting isn't as easy as when we were in high school seeing each other that day. There are lots of emails sent back and forth between us." 

"Glad you girls stayed closed. Was worried you would all drift away." She reaches forward to squeeze Y/N's knee. 

Y/N knew she meant it about Harry. How no one thought anything would come between them that they would make it through university and settle down soon after. Oh, how wrong they all were. As much as they hoped for the best, they were each other's downfall. 

"It's a bit late; I'm going to shower and head to bed instead."

"Before you go, can I say something?"

Y/N recognizes the gleam in her mother's eye and nods, knowing she has to get this off her chest. 

"It's sadly a man's world out there, but you have managed to make it your own." She reaches forward and takes Y/N's hand in hers, pressing a gentle kiss before settling it in her lap. Y/N smiles. "I know you long to love and share it with someone, and I want you to remember that the person for you is out there. As a mother, I know these things, and I wish you nothing but the greatest things in life, but they all come when we are ready for it."

Tears well up in Y/N's eyes, she nods. Not replying to her mother's words because she knows if she speaks, she will cry. 

"Lorelai, you made her cry." He whispers, pulling both women into a squished hug. 

"I've always had your father, and I hope you find that someone for yourself." 

She pulls back and wipes her tears away. "Thank you." Y/N leaves her parents with a final hug.

She heads up the stairs to the room that holds all the memories she has kept locked away. In her home, there are no longer any photos of her friends or of him. Not like before, where they were spotted on every wall displayed for all to see. Her mother took them off after she left for university. It broke her mother's heart to see her suffer such a big heartbreak. Harry had become like another son to her parents, so they were all sharing the heartbreak. She missed everything about him, but it has been years since they last spoke. 

It's been eight years since they last talked, last kissed but not the last she's thought of him. He's coming for the time capsule opening, and as much as she tries to convince herself she's going to be alright, she knows she's not. Yes, she's moved on. She has built a life without him in it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. 

All she can do is count the days until she leaves Aurora and goes back to the comfort of her apartment in Massachusetts. 

____

It's been a week since she's been home, and she knows everyone will show up in two days. The friends she was sure she'd never lose touch with but slowly did with time no matter how each tried, but life moves on. 

Y/N is nervous to see everyone. She's changed in the last eight years, but so has everyone else. She misses what they used to have in high school but honestly, getting to hear what everyone has been up to will be fun. Who knows, it might feel as if not time has passed at all? 

She met up with Sarah and Sydney earlier for breakfast at the old dinner. The girls spent a good five minutes embraced in a hug before they took their seats. They ordered too much to eat but, to no surprise, finished it all by the end of their conversation. 

The time together was spent mostly catching up and jumping from topic to topic. She did feel she was asked one too many questions about starting her residency and how they will be addressing her as a "doctor."

Y/N brought up Sarah's love life wanting to hear how they were doing. Sarah and Mitch did not start dating until after graduating high school, finding out they were going to the same university just an hour away from their hometown. Everyone was aware of Mitch's heart eyes for Sarah, but she was too focused on her internship, always wanting to do good. One can imagine how happy everyone was when news spread that Sarah asked Mitch out and was quick to say yes. Now eight years later, were happily moved in together. Sarah is a music engineer, and Mitch a music teacher at the local high school; as mellow as Mitch is, he gets on well with the teens. 

Having focused on love and Sydney quickly saying nothing new was going on with her, just that she was more in love than she could have ever imagined, it was time to hound Y/N, it seems. They asked about her love life and how good-looking the boys in Massachusetts are.

Y/N told them how nonexistent her love life has been since she graduated high school. It's not something she ever made time for, and her friends understand as much as they hate that for her. Sydney did not stop herself from making a joke on what seems to be Y/N's long dry spell. She shrugged it off, not at all bothered. Y/N assured them she knows how to take care of her own needs until the right person comes along. They all knew who she hoped would be the right person, but they knew better than to bring him up.

Once again, there was a change of pace. Sarah surprised them with tickets to Spice Girls at a sold-out Madison Square Garden concert on July first. Six tickets, a perfect number for their friend group. It was perfect, honestly. Sarah figured they'd road trip up the last week of June and could stay in Y/N's shared apartment with her roommate, who would not be home yet. Then take a train up to New York for the show. Also, told them they'd have hotel rooms for the night already, having an idea there would be an after-party. Y/N was all for it as was Sydney. 

Y/N has always loved concerts; it's something she saves for not bothered to spend some money to enjoy a great show for one of her favorite artists, especially in good company. The long queues were a downfall, but not everything is perfect. She has gone to concerts and knows that one can make the best experience out of floor seats and nosebleeds. Artists never fail to amaze. 

It reminds her of the first concert she ever went to that Harry took her to their senior year. The ticket stub she has pinned next to a polaroid that a stranger offered to take for them. It was before the show, and they had matching grins. It's still one of her favorites, and the reason she doesn't take it down is too good of a memory to keep hidden away. 

While seeing Sarah and Sydney was good and everything she hoped it would be, it did not prepare her to see the others. She had not talked to Zac in a long while, having no idea what he was up to. Mitch is quiet and only says hello when she has called with Sarah and Harry; well, it's like she doesn't exist to him. Not since their last day together. 

Y/N has two days to prepare.

Two days to wrap her head around the fact that she's going to see Harry. 

AUGUST 1989 - SENIOR YEAR

Many people told her to enjoy her high school years because they would fly by, and she accepted the advice and made memories to last a lifetime in the three years leading up to her senior year. Her friends and family have made each year memorial. Still, there is something about senior year, and knowing that it is their last year before university has her excited and anxious. 

Harry repeatedly told her how he wanted it to be their best year yet and promised to do just that. She has no doubt in her mind he will accomplish that in whatever way. He's managed to do so year after year. 

Harry made sure to pick her up each morning, never wanting her to worry about walking alone to school or arriving late. He made sure he knocked on her door every morning.

Depending on the time he showed up, he was ushered in for a homemade breakfast, or sometimes he said a quick hello before grabbing her hand and rushing out the door because they were running behind schedule, and Harry knew he could not make her arrive late. 

One thing that was always constant was how he carried her bag to his car and opened her door. He made sure she was settled before reaching down for his morning kiss. Sometimes, he went as far as putting on her seatbelt, just wanting to be close to her. 

Today was Monday, and he usually comes in, but today he selfishly told her to grab him a slice of toast because he was in a hurry. She didn't question him and sent her apologies. Her mom kissed her cheek and told her not to worry about it. A true angel, her mother was.  

Harry slipped her bag over his shoulder before ushering her in. She felt a little flustered with his urgency but let him be. He stole a quick kiss before going to the driver's seat. 

"What's got you in a rush today?" She asks, genuinely worried. 

He smirks, looking over at her. He seems calm, not that they've driven away from her house. "Thought we could use the extra time for some kisses. You deprived me this Sunday." He pouts at her, waiting for the light to turn green. 

"H, you know I have dinner with my grandparents one Sunday a month." She chastises him.

"I know, darling, doesn't mean I like it." He tells her. "Had to suffer a Sunday alone." 

"Well, at least I know how I can make it up to you." She teases. 

Arriving at school, Harry parks toward the back under a shady tree, one far away from everyone. 

"Want to sit on my lap, baby?" He asks, spreading his thighs, and as much as she wants to, she shouldn't knowing very well what he can convince her to do when in his lap. 

"Later, H." She promises. 

"I'm holding you to that, angel." He unclips her seatbelt, quickly placing his lips on hers. 

She feels how smooth his lips are and knows he stole her cherry lip balm again. "Harry, that's the third lip balm you've taken in two weeks." She pulls away, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip that he juts out. He gives her thumb a soft kiss. 

"Swear I was going to put it back this time." He moves closer, placing a kiss on her neck, slowly trailing down, pushing his varsity jacket down her shoulder, exposing more of her neck. Her black corduroy pants and white acrylic sweater, and her favorite worn-out Mary Jane's mother have been begging her to change out. She likes to think it adds an extra flair to her outfit. "You drive me crazy when you wear my jacket," He whispers in her ear.

"Does that mean you're always going crazy?" She whispers back, knowing he mostly wears the jacket during game days. 

"Always make me lose my mind." 

After a fun half-hour of making out, Y/N pushes him back, knowing she has matching bruised lips. She loves that everyone can see what she did to him. She also may have sucked a little too hard on the skin right below his collar, the love bite just barely visible. She pulls down the sun visor, looking in the mirror to straighten out her hair, that Harry just loves digging his fingers into. 

"Baby, what did you do?" Harry says, looking at the fresh mark just by his collar bone. 

She smirks, knowing very well that Harry loves when she marks him. Not doing it very often in fear of getting caught by their parents. 

"Got to remind those girls that stare at you who you belong to." She reapplies her lip balm before layering the new lip gloss her mom got for her the other day. 

"You know I've only got eyes for you, love." He says, caressing her cheek softly. 

His gentle tone of voice always makes her soft, but it also might be that his accent seems to stand out even more. 

"I know, H." She leans in to give him one more kiss but pulls back quick enough to not let him deepen it. 

"Sneaky, baby." He clicks his tongue at her, rushing out and rounding the car to open her door, offering her his hand. 

She gladly accepts it, placing a kiss on both cheeks before landing on his lips. 

"I love you, Styles." She whispers against his lips, eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. 

"And I love you, my darling angel." He softly nuzzles her nose, causing her to let out a small giggle. 

"Let's get you to class." He says, throwing his arm over her shoulder pulling her in close. 

Harry is smiling wide; she takes notice as she looks up. He looks extra giddy. 

Too giddy, and it has nothing to do with their steamy make-out. 

She narrows her eyes at him, "what's got you extra smiley?" 

"Nothing, happy all the time."

"Nuh, uh. Styles. I know you. Fess up!" She stops walking, wanting him to answer her.

"It's because my girl marked me up today for all to see. Makes me feel special." He answers smoothly. 

Y/N looks at him in suspicion, not buying a single word he's saying, "I'm onto you, Styles."

Harry lets out a deep breath before stepping close to her. "Let me surprise you, darling." 

She instantly relaxes. "Okay, only because you know I like surprises."

"Thank you." He rests his forehead against her, happy to be in her space, forgetting all around him until he hears a shout of his name. 

Moment over, it seems.

"Let's get you to English Literature," Harry murmurs, intertwining his hand with hers making sure she's close by as Sarah greets her.

_____

It's lunchtime when they walk hand in hand to the lunch tables where Mitch and Sarah sit, stalling their conversion to greet them. Before she can take a seat next to Sarah, Harry pulls her in his lap. He leans in close to her ear and whispers that he'll give her his chocolate chip cookies Anne had baked. She silently agrees, grabbing the bag Harry was offering her. What he didn't disclose is that his mum had sent them specifically for her. They have three empty seats, but she can see Zac and Sydney approaching, carrying food trays. Meaning, neither had lunch prepared for the day. 

Y/N leans back against Harry getting comfortable, knowing that he wouldn't be letting her go any time soon. The chatter begins with how their weekend went and what this week's activities are. She knows she doesn't have much to do this week; her club meetings don't meet until next week. Harry has football practice all week, meaning she either visits the library or finds a ride home. She doesn't mind staying and watching his training, but Harry hates knowing she sits there alone for so long. He rather have her be home warm and cozy than on the cold bleachers.

Harry asks for her attention by placing a kiss on her neck, his tell sign that he's feeling left out. 

"Yes, H," She whispers for only him to hear. 

"Need your attention. Don't like sharing." 

"You're extra needy this Monday, dove." Y/N has his hands in her lap as she begins to trace circles on his palm; it's something that soothes him instantly. 

"I just want to know our plans this weekend." He kisses her cheek, nuzzling his face in her neck. "Rather you get parent permission early on than last-minute giving them a chance to say no." 

Harry's right; there are occasions where her parents have said no, and Y/N finds herself sneaking out from her window that conveniently has an old tree that makes it all the easier. 

Her parents trust them together, but if they really knew what happened behind locked doors, they would think otherwise.

"Do you want to go kiss a little?" He wants her to say yes. 

"At your car or in the abandoned hallway?" 

"What's quieter?" 

"The hallway, and it's closer." 

Harry nods, gently grabbing her waist and helping her stand. "We'll see you later," Harry says, interrupting their conversations. 

"Oh, Styles, you've corrupted her." Zac teases very well, grasping what they were about to go do.

"Think she's corrupted me. Who knew angels could be so dangerous?" Harry teases in front of their friends. 

Y/N feels her face warm, bidding them all a quiet goodbye. Harry, having rendered her a bit speechless. She swears she never knows what is going to come out of his mouth. 

Harry all but drags her to the hallway. He gently pushes her back against the wall next to an older poster for the school play. Y/n glances down at his lips before looking into his eyes.

"Did you really bring me here to kiss, or are you spilling the surprise?" Her eyes are big and filled with hope. 

"Sorry, baby. Really did want some kisses from you." He pulls her closer wanting no space in between them. "Really missed you. Can't believe we only have one class together." 

"It's like they know you wouldn't pay attention to me in a class with you." She teases.

"Kissy." He pouts his lips, feeling like they've talked enough. 

Who is she to deny him when he asks so sweetly. 

Y/N always felt like time stopped when she kissed Harry. She felt her heart pounding in her chest as her knees grew weak, and as if Harry knew, he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her up. Harry pulls away slowly, a smile growing on his face. He would never tire of kissing her. 

Harry leans in and nuzzles his head in the crook of her necks, slowly beginning to place kiss after kiss before he finds his favorite spot and begins to suck lightly, pulling a surprised moan from her. 

She pushes him back. "No love bites that high. It will keep us locked up in the house all weekend supervised. 

Harry tenses at the thought, knowing fully well her parents would do that, having done it before when they first started dating, and he thought more with the thing in his pants than his brain. "I guess I'll just have to bruise these pretty lips."

Never one to tell him no, a small nod is enough to make Harry lean in and take her breath away. He'd kiss her forever if he could, but the last fifteen minutes of lunch break would have to do for now. 

_____

Monday's always drag on; she goes home, does homework, reads a book, and waits for dinner to be ready. Most days, she joins her mother in cooking; both like conversing about their days. More than ever, they have lots to talk about, from holiday plans to the universities she is applying for. She has saved up allowance allowing her to use it for more universities than the average three. If it was up to her, she'd send one to all the universities because that is how confident she is not only about her grades but how she comes off as a student on paper. 

Dumping most of her books in her locker, she keeps Calculus in her bag, knowing the sooner that homework gets done, the less stress she'll have. Just as she shuts her locker, she hears footsteps approaching her. 

"Is my girl ready to go?" 

"She is." 

Harry swings his arm over her shoulder, and they begin to walk out the school doors that are kept wide open. There are groups of students lingering talking to another, and in the distance can hear cars driving away eager to get away. 

Y/N smiles at a girl who sends her a wave, recognizing her from her English course. Harry walks them under a tree, a reasonable distance away from everyone because, as she has come to know, he likes kissing her in private. 

"Our first game is in two weeks." Harry reminds her.

"Yes, exciting." 

"Will you be there, or is there a test to study for?" He teases. 

She frowns and takes him by the lapels of his varsity jacket that she gave back to him at the end of lunch because she claimed it was losing his smell. 

"Don't start, Harry. You know I've never missed a game, and I won't start now." 

"Was only teasing, love." 

"Didn't like it." 

"Sorry, love. Forgive me? He pouts, wanting her to smile at him instead of frown. 

"You know my price." Y/N shrugs. 

He sighs, nodding his head three times before moving to get on his knees, toying with unbuttoning her pants. 

She gasps and jumps away. "Harry!"

Harry can't help but smirk, "Isn't that always the price."

"I just wanted a kiss; no need to make a scene." He shrugs. "Now, don't you have a practice to get to?"

"Ugh, I do." Harry groans, dreading practice knowing the coach likes to run them twice as much for not working out on the weekends. 

"Give me a kiss, please. Then you'll come by later, right?"

"That is correct." He leans in, giving her three consecutive pecks on her lips. 

"Who's taking you home again?" He asks, wanting to make sure she's safe. 

"Sarah and Mitch." 

"Right, good. Well, off I go, poppet." 

"Bye." 

Harry turns and heads toward the field, where he can see the freshman already setting up drills and getting the water jug out to the bench. He's only taken a few steps when his angel's voice stops him. 

"Dove," 

Harry can feel his cheeks turn bright red at the term of endearment. He turns and takes two steps back to her. "Yes, lovie." 

"Will you give me one more kiss?" Her voice soft and innocent but the gleam in her eye is anything but that. 

Harry takes the last step towards her and holds her face with both hands reaching down and kissing her passionately. He pulls away after what feels like a lifetime, slowly as he tries to steady his breathing. 

"I love you," she whispers.

He presses a final kiss to her forehead. "And I love you." Harry turns and begins to jog away, recognizing he's got a limited time to get dressed and out on the field to warm up. He's a few feet away but turns his head to see her watching him still. "Tell your mom I'll be joining you for dinner." 

She nods, letting him know she heard him before he turns a corner and out of her eyesight. Only then does she go in search of her waiting friends who will bring her home. 

______

After Y/N informed her mother that Harry was going to join them for dinner, she got up to cook, wanting everything to be ready for when her father and Harry arrived, seeing it would be around the same time.

Y/N made herself scarce as her mother was in no mood to converse. Instead, she wanted to cook, and maybe if she planned her time accordingly, she would do dessert. 

Dinner time came around quickly, meaning she was lost in homework for a good few hours. She walked downstairs wanting to help her mom set the table when the front door swung open. 

"Hello, father!" Y/N bounced over to him, giving him a big hug and a peck on his cheek, one that he happily returned.

"Hi, my sweet girl." 

"Mom cooked a delicious dinner. We're just waiting on Harry." Y/N told him, knowing he's hungry from a long day at work.

"Won't have to wait long; Harry was just parking when I was on the steps." 

Y/N's eyes lit up at hearing that he arrived. Her father chuckled, "I'll go say hello to my wife, dinner in ten, okay." 

Y/N walks out to see Harry coming up the stairs in a cozy blue emblem sweater with denim Levi jeans and paired with his old white Chuck All-Stars. She smiled because he went home to shower, not wanting to wear his clothes from earlier or come over smelling like sweat, not that she minded. 

"You know we don't mind the sweat, H," She tells him as he's climbing up the last few steps. 

He shrugs. "I know, but I am a guest in your home and would never dare disrespect your parents and you, of course." 

Y/N grins. "Four years dating, and you continue to prove to be the most perfect boyfriend." 

Harry looks away, feeling bashful. "I wouldn't go that far." 

"I would, dove." Y/N closes the gap between them. "Now, I say you kiss me before mom calls us in for dinner." 

"It would be my greatest pleasure." 

____

Dinner was a success, conversation always flowing well. Y/N likes to sit back and listen to her parents talk with Harry as if they hadn't seen him in forever when he is more than likely to be here every other day. Her father is a big fan of football; he too was once a player. No, he wasn't quarterback; he was right-wing and helped his team make it to state championships. 

The high school team has won three state championships since Harry's first year as a freshman. They counted on making it the fourth year; no doubt in anybody's mind it would happen. Y/N picked up on her father's excitement going on and on about the first game and how it was the most important one now that scouts would be coming out more and more. Without a second thought, she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, lightly squeezing, reassuring Harry she was there for him. He slowly turned the hand on his thigh palm up and intertwined them together. 

"Thank you so much for dinner, Lorelai. Luke, thank you for the great conversation. I can't wait to see you both at the game."

"We wouldn't dare miss it, Harry," Lorelai tells him, a wide grin on her face as she picks up the dishes. 

"Now go on; I'll help your mother with the dishes tonight." Luke gestures to them to get up and get their privacy. Y/N thanks him and takes Harry's hand, leading the way up the stairs. 

Now they are lying on her bed, it's got enough space for them to be spread out, but she prefers to lay across Harry, her head on his chest as he rests his head on her pillows. 

Harry had his hand in her hair, always calming for her and for him. Allows them to sit in comfortable silence, basking in the joy of being together. 

Many people ask them if they ever get sick of seeing each other every day and never giving each other space after dating for so long. That isn't entirely true because when they aren't at their respective extracurricular activities, they are found together. Harry's response is always, "she's my favorite person." Y/N just shrugs and smiles, "he's my best friend." 

Believe it or not, they spent around in her room listening to music or in his house watching movies from their grand VHS collection. Most thought they spent it making it out, not that they don't do that because they are just as in love as when they got together four years ago. When they walked into any room, her parents were sure they would be kissing, which is why the open door policy exists. Well, half-open is the agreement now. 

Harry looks around her room, his eyes settling on the polaroid photo on her bedside table, one of them smiling at each other, lost in their own worlds. It's dated 06-18-1989<i<, it was from one of their many summer days spent together. He decided now was as good as time to bring up what he had been hiding. 

"You know how we were making plans for the weekend, sweetheart."

"Yes, you didn't let us decide on anything." 

"Well, what if I did?"

She sits up and moves to sit in front of him. "Okay, I'm all ears. 

"You up for a drive?"

"Always, so drive me to the moon, please." 

Harry laughs. "Serious for a sec, baby."

"Sorry, yes, go on then." She interrupts him once more. "How far is the drive? You're not always the best driver."

"Ouch" Harry has his hand over his heart, feigning as if her words had pierced him. "Guess I won't tell you."

"That's fine." 

"Yeah. Is it?" 

"Yup." 

"Why's that?" He's confused; she's usually begging to know by now. 

"Simple, because I just won't give you any kisses."

"That's cruel."

"Oh well. I don't play fair." 

"Think you can resist me, sweetheart?" 

"Oh, I know I can." 

Harry shakes his head, response ready, but she stops him. "Remember who asked who out five different times."

"That's because you were playing hard to get. Claiming you just wanted to be friends for a little longer." 

"That was tru-" It's his turn to stop her.

 "Ah, yes, I know. I was getting impatient. Don't know if you know this or not, darling, but I had to scare off a lot of boys. 

"Trust me, H. I knew" 

"You did?" 

"Yes, I think it was because everyone knew sooner or later I was going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah, by saying yes." 

"Oh no, I was going to say no."

"What changed?" Clearly, something had, and he just had to know. 

"You decided to show up at school wearing your Sunday best and brought me sunflowers. Told me they reminded you how much light I brought into your life. There I decided yes, he'll make a fine boyfriend."

Harry's smile is big, dimples on display just for her. Always for her. "You tease too much."

"But you love it."

"I do." He leans in and smiles as she lets him lead the kiss. It's slow and full of love. A love that only continues to grow each moment they are together. "I really do."

Y/N leans in, wanting to give him more kisses, wanting to be connected to him, wanting him to always feel her love. She's not sure how much time has passed when Harry pulls away. 

"You do realize we got sidetracked." 

"Yes, worth it if you ask me." She looks pleased. "Now you have to tell me, I gave you kisses."

Harry runs his thumb over her bottom lip, asking for another. She puckers her lips leaning forward, and connects their lips in a short soft kiss.

"Friday night, the Forum."

Y/N's eyes go wide; she was not expecting to hear that.

"No."

"Yes."

She sits there taking it in.

"Say it, baby." Harry likes that he managed to surprise her. 

"You got us tickets for Elton John." She whispers out, her eyes now locked with his needing him to confirm it.

"Yes, I did." 

"A sold-out show."

"Think it's going to be a fun night."

"How?" Although Y/N has an idea.

"Well, I called in on a favor with our dear friend Sarah and the radio station she's interning at." 

"I love her." She breathes out.

"Hey," Harry knocks her out of her gaze. "And me." 

"Of course, I love you." She moves forward, seating herself in his lap. "I love you. I can't believe you did this for me." 

"Yes, can't let you go off to uni without experiencing a concert." 

"You are perfect, Styles."

"Perfect for you."

There's so much love in between them; if anyone walked into the room, they'd be able to feel it. 

"Wait." Her hands now resting on his chest, a frown taking over her face. "How are we going to convince my parents." 

"Already done. Told them the plan and the itinerary, and your parents have agreed." 

"Perfect, I'm telling." 

"Is this why we're walking to school tomorrow?" She remembers him telling her he won't have his car. 

"Yes, taking it to the mechanic. I just want to make sure all is okay." 

"Marry me?" 

Harry can feel his cheeks warming up; she always makes him blush. He takes hold of her left hand and brings it up to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on her ring finger. 

"All in good time, my love."

_____

The week had dragged on, but it was finally Friday. She had been excited all week, and everyone could tell. Told her how she was jumpier, a lot more smiley, and twice as affectionate with Harry. She was happy.

She's at home getting ready; they would be leaving soon. Seeing as it was still a bit of a drive and no doubt would get stuck in traffic, seeing as they aren't the only ones attending the show. 

Y/N had gone over outfit after outfit until she finally decided on what she is wearing now. She's wearing a deep red power shoulder tucked into her favorite high-waist denim that makes her waist and butt look extra good. 

As she walks down the stairs, she hears the door and knows Harry is here to take her away. No matter what, he always stepped up to the door to pick her up; it still made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. 

Her father is at the door speaking with Harry going over her extended rules and what numbers to call for an emergency. 

"Well, aren't you a dream," Harry looks her up and down; she does a slow spin for him on the heel of her black boots to give him the full look. "I'm a lucky man." 

"Glad you know it, H." 

She grabs hold of his brown leather jacket and runs her finger down it, it's an old one, but he takes such good care of it; one would think he just got it today. 

"Think you just took my breath away, H." She swears there are hearts in her eyes as she takes him in.

"That's exactly what I was going for." 

Harry and Y/N bid her parents goodbye; they wish them a safe journey. Her mother was excited to send her off; her father was a bit more worried but trusted Harry to keep her safe. 

The drive to the arena is filled with conversation over the upcoming year, Harry's final football season, and her volunteering hours how she was hoping to be accepted into the NICU's internship at their hospital. Also, lots of singing on the radio as well as Harry's CDs. From ABBA to Shania Twain, he had, but they settled on Elton John for the ride. 

In what feels like no time, they had arrived. Y/N is amazed at how big it is; she doesn't know much about the place just from what Sarah told her that it was large and no matter where she sat, she was going to have the best time of her life. Already having Harry at her side, she had no doubt about it. She can't stop smiling, and neither can Harry.

Harry grabs her hand as they both stare at the arena, where hundreds of people are lining up to enter. 

"Ready, love." 

"Yes, gosh. I might throw up from the excitement." 

"Oh no, let's get you a pop. It'll help."

"That sounds nice." Y/N leans up and gives him a gentle kiss. "Thank you, H." 

"Angel, I am more than happy to do this for you." 

Hand in hand, they walked into the arena, ready to sing their hearts out together. 

_____

Two hours of singing and dancing her heart off, and yet it still wasn't enough to tire Y/N out. Harry was sure she'd be clinging to his arm as he pulled her out of the arena, but she had asked him to wait out the crowd, and they stood in the emptying arena, arms around each other. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and it was still pumping hard. He kissed her lips one final time before swinging his arm over her shoulder and guiding them out to the chilly Los Angeles air. 

Y/N was all smiles, and she thinks it has to do with the man whose curls have fallen flat from all the sweating they did inside the arena. Being in a room packed around thousands of people will do that. She has never been in such a happy and united environment. 

It's a memory she's going to cherish forever. 

The drive home is full of retelling of their favorite parts of the night. Harry decided his was when Y/N turned to kiss him during "Your Song." He felt himself fall in love with her all over again. It's a feeling he never wants to end. 

Y/N's had to have been each outfit change. There were so many that she lost track, but she loved how unique each outfit was. It's something she knew she could never pull off, but she admired the beauty of each one. It was over the top and full of colors; it kept her mesmerized. It reminded her of life and how filled with color it really is. Also, when Harry sang his heart out during "Tiny Dancer." How he knew every lyric and didn't miss a beat, if she's honest, she didn't bother looking at the stage for the entire song too entranced in Harry. 

The smile does not leave their face, not during the traffic of getting on the freeway, not when they stopped by McDonald's and got burgers and decided to share a coke, and not even when they saw the sign welcoming back into Aurora. 

Y/N's smile didn't drop until Harry parked his car right in front of her house. She sits back against the seat and turns her head to already find a bashful Harry smiling at her. 

"Come here." He whispers. 

She unbuckles and sits in his lap, it may have been a few hours, but she missed being this close to him. 

Y/N didn't wait for Harry to ask; she simply leaned in and connected his strawberry lips with hers. She loved how soft they always were, and she knew she'd keep letting him steal her lip balms if they did such an excellent job keeping them soft and tasting sweet; then again, that could be all Harry. She lets out a small moan when Harry swipes his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance, and she happily grants it. 

She wishes she can stay here forever, in his arms, kissing his lips, never having to stop. 

"Baby," Harry breathes against her lips.

Y/N knows what he's going to say; she's not ready to say goodnight. Instead, she keeps kissing him. "Just a little longer." She mutters against his lips.

Harry can't bring himself to pull away again and nods, allowing her to take control. He has a tight grip on her thigh, he wishes to move it higher, but he knows if he does, she won't be going inside tonight. She moves her lips down his jaw pressing gentle kisses.

"You drive me crazy." 

"Feelings mutual, darling." 

Harry pulls her back up and kisses her plush mouth. She tastes sweet, something he never pinpoints; all he knows is that it's intoxicating. He presses one final kiss on her lips and pulls back. She's breathing heavy, a large grin on her face. He knows he looks just as dazed. 

"Think you got to get inside now." 

"Don't want to leave you." She grabs a fist of his jacket, pulling herself closer. 

"I'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

She pouts. "Why so late?"

"Because you're going to want to sleep in." He brushes a bit of her hair away, she leans into his touch; she loves how delicate each touch is. 

"What if you come early and then cuddle me? Mom won't turn you away."

"She might."

"Not after I walk in and tell her how amazing the night was." She cups his cheeks, rubbing her thumb affectionately on his smooth skin. "She's got a sweet spot for you."

"And you." He reminds her. 

"Well, of course. I'm her daughter." She laughs but knows she hasn't convinced him. "Please," she whispers. She flashes him her best puppy dog look, knowing he won't be able to resist.

"Fine. I'll be here at eight, darling." 

"Perfect." She gloats. 

"Let me walk you up." 

Harry helps her back into the passenger seat so they can both head out. He grabs her hand, pulling her in close, not wanting her far for the last moments he has her. 

"You want to know something, H." She whispers, keys in her hand.

"What is it, angel?"

"I want to travel the world with you."

"The world." He gasps. "It's a big place, baby. Where would we start?" 

"London got to see the place you grew up before moving here. Of, course we'll save up and just spend the year traveling wherever life takes us."

"That sounds perfect." 

She hums, deep in thought, picturing visiting all these places she's only dreamed of with him by her side. To see the Eiffel tower, walk the streets of Scotland, and swim in the Amalfi Coast waters. 

"Dove," He hums, playing with a loose string of her jeans. "Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere you want. I'll make sure to take you wherever you want to go." 

"Take me to the stars, dovie."

"As you wish, my sweet angel." 

Harry brings his right hand up to her face and gently cups her cheek; she sighs, knowing precisely what he's going to do. She tilts her head up and feels his lips against her. It's the softest kiss of the night; it's gentle. It's her favorite kiss, the goodnight kiss, a promise to see her tomorrow. 

She breaks away the first time tonight, knowing if he kept going a moment longer, she wouldn't let him go. "Goodnight, H," She whispers as she begins to open the door. 

"Goodnight, love." 

Harry turns and walks to his car as he hears the door shut and hears her turn the lock. Once in his car, he takes a look up at her window, sends a final smile as he sees her waving him off.

He feels so much joy always being around her, but tonight it seems to have multiplied by a hundred. He knew tonight was perfect, but his favorite part wasn't even at the concert; it was standing outside her door as they spoke of their future together.

Happiness isn't always about the big moments but also about these small moments that make them feel invincible.

JUNE 1998

Y/N grabs a book from her bookshelf, not bother glancing at which one knowing if she stopped to read each title, she would be there all day. She heads to the yard, a picnic blanket tucked under her arm, so she can lay on it and soak in a bit of the sun. 

Her mother is trimming the leaves of the roses, wanting the flower to pop out more. Her father usually helps her, but he's finishing up last-minute work before coming out to join them. He has a good view of them from his office window. When she was young, he told her he chose this room because it's where her mom spends all her time, and he likes having his eye on her as she joins the beauty of her flowers. Y/N's known love all her life, and she's happy her parents have each other, but she can't help but feel like she let that one-of-a-kind love go years ago and fears she'll never find it again.

As she settles down on her blanket, she decides to rid herself of all thoughts and instead get lost in the words of Stephen King. She picked up a psychological horror. She remembers her father mentioning it was a good read and that she'd enjoyed it. Two pages in, and she knows she's hooked; it looks like she will be laying out here all day. 

At least that's what she thought when her mother interrupted her. 

"When are you meeting everyone?" 

Y/N puts the book down on her chest and looks over at her mom, who's still got her eyes on her roses. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"When are you meeting everyone?" Her mother repeats herself.

"Tomorrow."

"Time, darling?" 

"At one."

She hums in response. "I leave you in charge, and please be watchful over my roses." 

"Of course, I would never think of damaging your roses. Well, my roses, really." Y/N corrects. 

"Just because they were planted in your honor does not mean they are yours. You've cared for them for such little time."

"Excuse me, mother. I went off to university, but once I'm done and ready to settle down, I will be doing all the caring."

"Yes, because you will have time as a doctor." Her mother responds sarcastically. 

"I will be able to." 

Her mother decided to move on, knowing how stubborn Y/N can be. "Your father and I have lunch and dinner plans out of town, so you'll have the house to yourself for most of the day and night."

"You're treating me like I'm sixteen again, and it's my first time having friends over." 

Her mom laughs, and Y/N can't help but join. "You're forever, my little girl."

"Cheesy." Y/N teases.

Y/N leans back and gets comfortable, all thoughts of tomorrow pushed away and instead gets lost in the town of Bridgton, Maine. 

_____

It's time; everyone is making their way over. She can feel her palms begin to sweat, thankful there's a nice breeze outside to keep her cool. Y/N and her mom cooked pasta with grilled chicken and strawberry lemonade wanting to be ready for after the digging. Y/N would feel bad making them dig a hole, open a box, then head on out. These people are her friends, and she wishes to spend time with them, and what better than with food.

She's got ten minutes before everyone is due to arrive when she hears a car pull up and turn off right in front of her house. Y/N knows of only one person who shows up early.

Harry. 

Y/N thought he would be the last to arrive, but she's guessing old habits die hard. She takes a deep breath before opening the front door and walking out.

Harry would be lying if he wasn't nervous. He's about to see Y/N for the first time after years. He's seen her in photos; he knows she only continued to become more beautiful as the years passed. It's not the same as, no, because he knows what's separating them is a walk up to the door. 

He feels precisely as he did the moment he asked her out and, if he's truthful, how she made him feel their entire relationship. Harry's 26, but his heart feels 18, and at that age, he was deeply in love with the woman inside that house. He loves her just the same.

Harry takes a long deep breath before slowly letting it out. He could do this; he got out of his car and made his way up the path, where she was already standing waiting for him. It felt like no time had passed as if he was coming over to take her on a date--except they weren't even close enough to say they were friends. 

"Harry," She breathes out as he reaches the first step. 

"Hi" He sends her a small smile. "You look great." 

Y/N feels her cheek flush, and knows he can notice now that he's right in front of her. She takes in her outfit; it's simple, just a cropped red long-sleeved tee and black pants, with an old pair of black sneakers. 

"Thank you, Harry. As do you." And he really does. He's wearing loose green denim joggers with a matching jacket. He has left it open, showing a brown button-up, a silver cross necklace peeking out from the space he left unbuttoned. "Always on time still."

"Better early than late." 

She nods, not sure if she should continue the conversation or not. Are they going to stand out here in silence? It was never this hard; she hates this. Y/N rather keep talking than let themselves stand there in silence for another eight minutes. 

She clears her throat. "How'd med school go? Have you decided on a residency yet? Anne told me you were weighing your options." 

Harry doesn't try to hide his shock. "You spoke to my mum?" He asks in disbelief. 

Y/N grins as much as his English accent is fading; it always comes back when saying 'mum,' or well, when he's nervous. 

She nods. "I visit her when I visit my family. Recently passed when I came to see my mother who was feeling down and lonely as she put it even though she has dad to keep her company."

Harry smiles, knowing what weekend she was talking about because he had come the week after, and Lorelai had told him she was no longer as lonely. He thought it might have been because of his company, but it was because her daughter was home for a weekend.

When he's about to tell her where he decided, she waits patiently, staring up at him, a shy smile on her face but stops when Sydney comes and tackles Y/N in a hug. 

"Of course, Styles got first dibs on you." Sydney fakes her exasperation. 

"He knows how to be punctual." Y/N teases. "Looks like you bring the others as always." She signals seeing two more cars park; they park in the empty driveway.

"Just like old times," Zac screams out two bottles of wines in his hands. Mitch and Sarah walk up behind him, agreeing. 

Y/N looks around, and it's almost like old times. Just one small difference that makes her heartache. 

Everyone greets each other, sharing long hugs, and it's not long after that she invites everyone in and into the backyard. 

"Mom says if we mess up her roses, we are dead meat," Y/N informs them all as they all stand in a semi-circle under the spot they buried their time capsule. 

Mitch steps and pats Harry on the back. "If anything does happen, just say it was Harold. Lorelai has a soft spot for him." 

Sarah approaches water in her hand. "Y/N is her golden child who does no wrong, easy to forgive."

Y/N laughs. "Enough. No roses will be damaged. Are we clear?" 

She gets a chorus of "yes."

"Great, there are clear instructions that only Zac and Harry are allowed to shovel. Sorry, Mitch, mom said we've got to take care of your musical hands."

Mitch nods in appreciation. 

"What about the doctor? No care for him." Harry mutters a small smile on his face.

"Quiet Styles, you're a favorite still," Zac tells him, pushing a shovel into his chest. 

Y/N's happy watching the banter; it's like she's sixteen again, and they are trying to see who could dig their side of the hole faster. 

SEPTEMBER 1988 - TIME CAPSULE 

"High school friendships aren't known to last," Zac speaks out randomly, breaking everyone out of their conversations.

Harry sighs, "You're a downer." 

"I'm a realist." 

Y/N takes this in; she hasn't thought years down the line. She just assumed they would always be in her life. She can't see herself without them.

"What if we aren't friends ten years down the road?" Y/N voices.

Harry instantly picks up the concern in her voice. "I promise I won't let that happen, lovie." He assures her. 

"H, I know." 

"It's not uncommon for others to drift, especially when everyone has a different path after high school." Sydney comments. "My sister went through it."

"Let's write a letter, and we can bury it, open it ten years, but we have to do it together," Sarah suggests.

"Not a bad idea." Everyone nods in agreement.

"Let's do a letter and something important to us." Y/N proposes already having an idea of what to put.

"It's settled. We're burying a time capsule." Harry states. 

"One problem." 

"What now, Zac?" Sarah groans. 

"Where do we bury it?"

Slowly everyone turns their gaze on to Y/N. 

"Your house," Sydney tells her. 

"You all agree?" Y/n is surprised. 

"Your mom will never leave her house. It's gorgeous."

"Also," Zac chimes in, "You love it and tell us how it's going to be yours one day."

Y/N sighs and nods. "I will ask and will let you know."

_____

It took a lot to convince her mother, but her father liked the idea and supported her. Two against one, Y/N knew her mom was in a losing fight. After lots of hugs and kisses and promises of doing the dishes for two weeks straight, she got permission. 

They had decided on a Saturday, wanting to do it early in the morning, unsure how long they would take digging the hole. Her mom designated an area for them to open. 

Her mom allowed her to have the house to themselves, trusting them not to do anything but dig a hole. Y/N had everyone promise they would be on their best behavior. 

Harry and Zac volunteered to dig, and no one argued. It took over an hour for them to get a decent-sized hole. It looked tiring, but Y/N enjoyed watching Harry's muscle flex as he threw out dirt. Finally, being satisfied with the hole size, mainly Sydney, made them go longer; it was time to place their items inside. 

Y/N rewrote her letter a few times, never knowing the right thing to say. It wasn't until she was lying on the floor of her room with Harry's head in her lap did she know what she wanted to tell her future self. 

Mitch went first, putting in his first-ever guitar pic, Sarah her Walkman, Harry followed with a copy of Romeo and Juliet, Y/N a chained rose ring, she put it in but not before giving it a small kiss knowing she'd miss it. Zac decided on his baseball mitt, and Sydney threw in a signed polaroid of herself, knowing it'd be worth a lot more once she became famous for her art.

Harry locked it shut with the final object in the box and lowered it down with Mitch's help. It fit well, and they sat around as it began to fill with dirt. 

"Ten years, we'll come back and open it up." 

"Yeah, but like summertime. I'm sure we'll have more time during the summer than other months." Zac might be right for once. 

"June 1998," Sarah suggests. 

Everyone thinks about it for a second, it feels so far away, a lifetime, really, but yes, they all agree. 

Ten years' time, they will all be digging it up and will relive these moments. 

JUNE 1998 

Harry removes his jacket half an hour in, and there is nothing to complain about. He tosses it close to her side, and Y/N knows if things were different, he would have gently thrown it at her, and without a second thought, she would have put it on. She missed the times when he loved her. Because as much as she can't admit it out loud, she still loves him. 

Now she'll fake conversation with Sydney when her real focus is on Harry and how his muscles seem to grow every time he scoops some dirt out and adds to the pile. He's grown buff over the years, he was always tall and firm in high school due to football, but now he's more defined. The most significant change was in his face, more stern. Not as smiley; it might just be due to being around her. He must hate being in her presence after she broke his heart. 

Y/N lets herself get lost in thought when Zac cheers. She looks down, and peeking out in the corner is brown wood.

"We've hit gold." 

In the next five minutes, Zac and Harry dig as much of the sides as they can, and soon enough, they are lifting it out before settling it down with a big "thump." 

Y/N can't stop eyeing it; it's got dirt in every spot that meets her eye, but she knows what's waiting for her inside of that box, and she can't wait to have it with her once more. 

"Who's going to do the honors?" Mitch asks the bolt cutters in his hand, ready to hand them over.

Everyone looks around at each other; no one says a thing until Harry steps forward and reaches to take them from his hand. Mitch hands them to Harry, no question asked. Harry heads straight to Y/N; he stretches his arm out, waiting for her to accept the cutters.

"Think it's only fair Y/N does the honors, seeing as we made her do a lot of groveling to Lorelai ten or so years ago just for us to bury this; not that she let any of us know." Harry smiles, urging her to take it. Y/N fingers brush his rather quickly, but in that small second, she felt her heart rate pick up and fears he might hear it, although that is almost impossible. 

"Thank you." He nods, urging her forward. 

"Take your time, doll." Zac says sarcastically." 

Y/N is too busy getting down on her knees in front to see the glare Harry sent Zac's way. Everyone else catches the look; believe it or not, they all hope this is the moment that brings these two once lovers back again. 

"Here goes nothing." 

Y/N places the bolt cutters between the lock and counts down to three; it breaks right off the first try.

"You've got some strength!" Sydney exclaims; she was expecting it to take much longer.

Y/N lets the lock fall before reaching up and pulling the single latch. She scans everyone circling around her before opening the crate hating the creaking sound it releases. 

There on top are their most prized items from when they were sixteen. 

Sydney reaches in first, pulling out a polaroid and pink envelope. She flips it over and lets out the biggest laugh. Sydney turns the photo around, letting everyone see her in the photo wearing her then boyfriend's varsity jacket. It has her signature on the page. "I swore I was going to be famous for my art and would sell this for thousands." 

"One day." Harry offers. 

Sydney shrugs. "My boyfriend will appreciate this the most if I'm honest."

"He's that crazy for you?" Sarah asks.

Sydney nods, a shy smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fortunate." She laughs, letting the moment pass. "Enough, Zac, please, you're next."

Zac, for the first time the whole evening, has fallen silent, almost looks nervous to reach inside. He takes a deep breath to go to the corner of the box and pull out a beat-up baseball mitt. Y/N can see his eyes well up with tears. He chuckles, "I swore I was going to go pro, but that senior injury year changed everything. In a way, Zac felt free; he got to pursue a career in travel journalism. "Enough sap, I volunteer, Harry." 

Harry nods, moving forward, sitting next to Y/N thighs touching; she feels her breath hitch; she doesn't dare move. He reaches in for the only book it's resting on the bottom, a white envelope with a scribbled 'H' on top. He sets the envelope aside but keeps the book in hand.

Harry smiles at the book in hand, Romeo and Juliet. It was not his favorite by any means, but it held a special place in his heart because it was the first book Y/N read to him when they first started dating. He remembers telling her he hated how she ignored him for words on paper, so he proposed she read to him aloud, and that way, they could bond. Y/N was thrilled at the idea; the first book was Shakespeare because it was a reading assignment, and she wanted it done that weekend.

 Harry hated the ending; he remembers ranting to Y/N as she ran her fingers through his hair to calm him down. He didn't understand why Shakespeare made these two people who were star-crossed lovers fall in love in a week only to have them die. 

Safe to say, it took a while to let Y/N read another one of Shakespeare's works. 

Y/N's eyes were on the book, and she watched as Harry carefully opened it to the first page, moving it back so that only they could read what was written on the cover page. 

It read: I've loved you for six months. I'll love you for six more. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to love you for life. Love, Y/N xxx

Y/N felt tears behind her eyes; she had to look away. She was so naïve at the age, but oh how she loved him, and she knew he loved her just the same. Y/N was so grateful to know she was loved, even if it was years ago.  

She doesn't want to go next; instead, Sarah reaches in to save her. Sarah pulls out her folded half of paper and her blue Walkman player. "Oh my goodness, this is going to have some golden tunes." 

Mitch chuckles, "You suffered without it. Think was the first time I ever heard you complain about something." 

Sarah sends him a playful glare. "Shut it! Why don't you go next, Mr. Sentimental."

Mitch is one to never say no to Sarah, so he shrugs and makes his way forward. Patting Harry on the shoulder causing Harry to shift closer to Y/N. Both Harry and Y/N don't say anything but don't bother to move away either. 

Sarah smiled as she watches Mitch pick up a guitar pick. It was the first one he received from his father. "Dad always said I had a guitar in hand." 

"Mitch, you've voiced your thoughts out loud." Harry jokes. 

"Funny Styles." That's the last of what Mitch says as he moves back to read his letter, and Sarah follows close behind. 

Y/N feels everyone staring, but really it's only just Harry. Everyone focused on their own letters but also waiting for a reaction. She slowly reaches in, first pulling out the pink envelope with her initial on the front; Harry wrote it for her, saying she needed a way to identify it years later. 

She sets it in her lap before reaching in and getting the item she's been thinking about all day. 

A silver rose ring. 

It was a gift from Harry; Y/N always spoke of roses and how much her mother loved them. Leading to Harry finding out she loved them just as much. He wore this ring for a long time; he found it in a store in London before they made the move here permanently. It's his last real piece of home, but Aurora had become home, and so had Y/N. It felt right to give to her. She cried, receiving it, and knew it wouldn't fit but told him not to get it resized. She surprised him by wearing it around her neck; she put it on a chain she had. There wasn't a day she wasn't seen without it. 

She holds it tightly in her hand as if Harry might rip it out of her hand, wanting it back, but it's hers, and it's special. Y/N never wants to forget her memories with Harry, no matter how much it hurts, thinking back on them. 

"I've missed it." She whispers. 

Y/N slips it over her head, letting it rest outside her shirt for all to see. She missed the look on Harry's face, but this might be the motivation he needs to speak with her. To talk about where they are now in life. 

Except Y/N stands up, brushing the dirt that was on her pants to head somewhere more private to read her letter she wrote to herself. She walks a few feet away and flips open the pink tab, pulls out a folded paper. Her eyes immediately go to the bottom of the page, wherein black ink, it says, "I love Harry (PS: he made you write that, but it doesn't make it any less true." 

Everything surrounded him; her love for him was just that large. She reads over her letter taking in the words of how her sixteen-year-old self said she was proud of her and that no matter what happens, it was all for a reason.

It's exactly what she needed to hear. 

Harry is watching Y/N stand there read her letter, and he feels the gaze of everyone else to go approach her. Years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about it, he would have been at her side holding her hand or rubbing her back, but now he doesn't even know if they are even friends. Mitch nudges him, and he knows he should check on her, but she surprises everyone by turning around, a grin on her face. 

"Mom and I cooked lunch, so let's wash up and eat. All this sure has built up my appetite." 

"Don't have to tell me twice." Zac smiles, walking inside heading straight to the kitchen sink. 

The others begin to follow Zac inside when Y/N stops hearing her name being called. It's Harry standing by the hole, shovel in hand. 

"Should I cover it up?"

Y/N can't help the smile, Harry was always so eager to help, and she's glad his kind helping sport hasn't changed. "No, dad is going to cover it. Mom told him he needs to do more yard work. She called it bonding time." 

"Okay, if you're sure." 

"I am." 

"Let's head in then." 

As Harry is about to walk past her, she reaches her hand out, grabbing his bicep, surprising him. "Thank you." 

He nods his head. "Of course." 

Y/N sighs; there's so much left unsaid. Their breakup fresh on her mind seeing him walk away from her, bringing it all back. Oh, how she wishes things were different. 

She doesn't regret leaving for New York, but she does wonder if there was a way to have made their relationship work; would it have survived or crashed and burned. 

In a way, she's glad she never had to find out. 

Y/N puts her brave face on; she's surrounded by friends who love her and who she hasn't spoken to for longer than half an hour. She's going to soak in this time and enjoy it. 

There are other times to be sad.

MARCH 1990 - ACCEPTANCES

Y/N and Harry were both lost in thought as Harry drove them to their destination. There was a lot to think about

Harry was proud to get a full-ride football scholarship to UCLA and a partial for USC. They were close to home, and he got to play a sport he was good at. These universities were tough to get into, but he impressed the recruits. He didn't bother applying outside the state, knowing he couldn't be far from home. It felt wrong for him; he knew that wasn't the case for Y/N. 

Y/N always spoke about leaving the state. She had dreamed about it from a young age especially seeing her brother do it. Gabriel's stories only make her more excited for her future. She loved to travel, no matter the distance. 

Harry, of course, knew this; he just thought he could convince her to stay. 

Applying to schools was hard for Y/N; there were many universities she wanted to apply to, but she feared rejection, so she set a limit of six. Still, a high number; she just needed options. 

When acceptances came in, each application welcomed her. Two east coast universities offered full-ride scholarships, USC offered partial and others only half. She had the money for tuition, her parents saved for her, which she is forever thankful for but knowing she could move across the country like she always dreamed of was calling her name. 

The one thing that stopped her was Harry. 

Y/N had never known love until Harry, and she knows her leaving will jeopardize that. She also knows if she stays, she might not be happy, always stuck on the "what if?"

She was distraught as soon as she heard the news. Her mom saw her pace outside, then sit, pour herself tea then began the cycle again. Y/N dreamed of Columbia. It was her dream university, and to give that up, but also having to give up Harry, she couldn't pick; she didn't want to. 

Harry parks the car; he drove them to an abandoned cliffside that's full of wildflowers. Y/N didn't rush out of the vehicle as she once would have wanted to feel the cold breeze. Now, she stares ahead, letting the car fill with silence—neither one wanting to be the one to begin the conversation that would change everything.

"Is this the end?" Y/N asks her voice, betraying her, as she feels her throat tighten up.

Harry doesn't answer; he reaches for her hand and holds it tight. 

"It doesn't have to be. I don't want it to be." She's barely holding herself together. Y/N's staring at the side of his head, silently begging for him to meet her gaze. 

"Life isn't always as easy as the last four years have been for us," Harry tells her, finally meeting her eyes. 

"I love you. You know that, right." 

"I know." He whispers. 

Y/N shuts her eyes, repeats the words in her head she hasn't been able to voice out, knowing she's going to be breaking more than one heart right now. 

"I can't stay, Harry." Y/N blinks her tears away, but they come right back, seeing Harry holding back tears. "As much as I want to, as much as I can't let you go. I also can't stay." 

"Don't let me go then." He whispers. He reaches forward, cradling her cheek in his hand. It's the softest touch he's given her. It's as if he's trying to remember how she feels. 

"It's not fair." 

"I don't care." Y/N reaches forward to wipe the tear away that managed to escape. 

"But I do." 

"I don't care." He tries again, Harry can't let her go. She's his life, he's too young to know about forever, but he doesn't want to live a life without her. "I'll go with you."

Y/N lets her tears begin to fall at his words. "No." Her voice firm. "It's over if you leave."

Harry pulls back, hurt by her words but Y/N's just as upset. 

She lets go of her hold on him and hurries out of the car. Harry yells her name, begging her to come back, but she's too busy crying to listen to him. Soon enough, she's surrounded by trees, and there are two trails to follow, but she can't pick; it is faith mocking her in the smallest of ways. Instead, she settles for sitting right in the center on a patch of grass. 

Y/N sits hunched over, crying; that's how Harry finds her. He doesn't say a word. He sits next to her and pulls her into his lap. 

"I'm sorry. So sorry, darling." 

Harry begins to rock her back and forward, letting his tears all as he rests his chin on top of her head. Begins to whisper sweet nothings, just wanting her close. He hates that they are causing each other this hurt. 

Y/N's cries have stopped; she sniffles from time to time. The holds she has on Harry is iron tight as if he'd vanish if she let go for even a second."

"Summer." She whispers, breaking the silence. 

"What?" Harry is not sure what she can mean.

"We have Summer."

"Yeah, we do." 

"We have to let each other go at the end of Summer." Her tone is final.

"Y/N-"

Y/N stops him, "Harry, I'm not letting you give up your dreams for me, and I know you won't let me do the same."

"I can't say goodbye," He confesses. 

"Then we won't. We'll kiss goodnight and pretend like we'll see each other in the morning." 

"That's heartbreaking, love." He chuckles bitterly.

"I love you, Harry Styles." 

"And I love you, my angel." 

Harry is done crying, instead leans in and kisses her like he should have done earlier as soon as he had parked the car. The kiss is fast, not soft like all the kisses he's used to giving her, no he wants her to remember this kiss. He wants her to feel everything he isn't saying. 

I love you. You're mine. You're my best friend. I will love you forever. He wants her to feel it all. 

"Show me you love me." Y/N pulls back breathless, lips plush begging to be kissed again. Harry knows what she's asking, and he's not one to deny her. 

He stands up, confusing her, but he comes prepared. Harry walks for the blanket he dumped a few feet away from them, grabbing it and spreading it out. Y/N is quick to lay back on the soft blanket. It warms her instantly. She smiles, reaching her hand up as Harry leans over her, his bottom half straddling her waist, her hand intertwining in his soft curls. Y/N brings him down for a kiss needing his touch to be close. 

Harry and Y/N are wrapped in their own world, lost in their kiss; it's always been them against the world, but soon they are going to venture off separately. It's something that neither of them wants to wrap their head around, and they won't not until they have to. 

They will enjoy graduation together, hand in hand receiving diplomas. Y/N will deliver a beautiful valedictorian speech. The joint graduation party will be a joy and one they sneak away from to spend watching the moon reflect over the ocean. It's the one place they feel at peace, the sea being a favorite of both of theirs. The Summer will bring endless days out, travels up the coast of California even as far as making it to San Francisco for a trip. There is not a second where they don't spend time together, and their parents understand; it breaks their heart, but it's their future, and all they can do is support them. Their love will only grow this Summer which makes it more heartbreaking when they say goodbye in August.

But none of that matters because, for now, they have each other, and that is enough. 

Harry pulls back, leaning his forehead against hers, their breaths mixing together. 

"I love you." 

"I love you so much; it's not going away just because--" Harry stops, not being able to voice the words out loud. He can't say it, or he'll start crying. 

"I know, dove." She trails her finger up his chest until they right over his heart. Y/N can feel how fast it's beating; it beats for her. "Maybe a day will come where we can be together again, that's if you don't find someone else, which I understand if you do."

"It's not going to happen." 

"You don't know that," She mutters. 

"Hey, I love you. No one is going to love me like you do. I'd be a fool to love someone else." Y/N settles her chin on his chest. She's staring into his eyes, trying to find a hint of a lie, but there is none. There's only love and sadness in his green orbs. 

"I love you too."

Harry sighs; there's not much they can do to brighten the mood. "You know what we can do?"

"What?" 

"Make a summer bucket list. First on my list is to kiss the prettiest girl I know every day." She laughs, making Harry break out in a big grin. "Lucky for you, that happens to be you." He tells her, booping her nose with his index finger.

Y/N laughs; it's only March. She has the rest of Spring and all of Summer to love Harry. To love him with every bone and cell in her body because that last day will come sooner than she likes. 

_____

The end of Summer arrived, and she bid Harry goodnight with a kiss at the door like normal, like he was going to show up tomorrow bright and early for breakfast and kisses, but that wasn't the case. It was goodbye, even though neither of them could admit it. 

Y/N and Harry walked away from each other; they didn't say no contact, but it was like they both silently agreed on it because there was no letters or calls to each other, no visits to each other's homes, no visiting each other parents, at least not in the beginning

The love was there, but life goes on.

JUNE 1998

After a delicious meal and second servings, everyone sits back stuffed. Everyone enjoyed a lovely home-cooked meal with entertaining conversation. Y/N enjoyed watching it happen, not participating much in conversation. She never was that interesting, she felt, always let her friends carry the conversation. She could feel Harry glance at her from time to time, but Y/N still hasn't recovered, knowing that Harry's most prized possession at sixteen was a book she wrote a note in. 

Y/N wonders if he's regretting that now. 

"Have we overstayed our welcome?" Zac asks, taking Y/N's silence as something terrible.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're fine. I like listening, fascinating conversations going on."

"Come on, share something with us." Zac urges her.

"Uhh… med school has been going well. Have all of the Summer off, might do some sightseeing before going home." 

"Yeah, driving home to Massachusetts instead of taking a plane like a normal person." Sydney winces at the thought, not at all wanting to think about the pit stops she had to make. 

"Maybe not the smartest idea, but I encountered zero troubles; my baby, Twila, runs smoothly." 

"Should get her checked out again before leaving." Harry comments.

Y/N nods. "Dad's been on my ass about that as well, but I've got no rush, especially since all I ever do here is walk around town." 

"Enough car talk, let's talk about the time Zac got his clothes stolen after gym class sophomore year." Sarah sets them off on a never-ending conversation of memories.

As soon as one story is finished, a new one is being shared. Y/N forgot most of these, but as her friends tell them, she feels each memory unlock and surfacing. The conversation goes on forever, with no end in sight because that's how friendship is; it's never-ending. Especially when all they did for four years was hanging out together, creating these memories they now are so fond of. 

It's around seven o'clock, the sun begins to set when everyone decides to head home. She walks them out, giving them hugs and promises of seeing each other again before everyone leaves town. Y/N notices Harry lingering by, but she doesn't say anything.

Y/N waves goodbye to Sarah and Mitch when Harry comes to stand by her. She waits for him to say goodbye, not going to rush him, which is why what he says next surprised her. 

"Do you want help cleaning up?" 

Harry looks shy, asking, and Y/N knows he's about to take it back, so she nods. "That'd be great." 

She walks back in, and Harry follows close behind, making sure to lock the door, just in case. "I'll rinse, and you put it in the dishwasher. Okay?" 

"Okay, yes." 

They begin to work in silence, the only sound of the running water. Y/N wonders if he's going to stay longer or if he's going to leave right after. 

God, she could really go for a glass of wine. 

As Y/N hands him the last plate, she dries her hand with the red dish towel before handing a white one over to Harry, who thanks her quietly. 

She leans back against the counter, debating asking him to stay for a drink or not. Harry catches her staring and smiles, unleashing the dimples. It seems he made the decision for her. 

"Do you want a glass of wine?" Y/N turns around, reaching up for a glass for herself, not wanting to face him just in case he rejects her. 

"Wine sounds great." 

Y/N grabs two stemmed wine glasses and opens the bottle of red wine rather quickly; she's surprised her hands aren't shaking because she's so nervous. She fills both glasses halfway before stepping forward to hand Harry his cup.

"Thank you." 

"No problem." 

Harry takes a sip, humming at the taste. Y/N isn't sure where Zac got the bottle. She's just happy it tastes good. 

"Do you want to sit outside, watch the sunset on the steps?" 

Harry agrees and steps out, holding the door open for her. She sits down, leaving room for Harry. He leaves a small space in between them. 

"I love sunsets, never the same." 

"Same as sunrises." 

"I'm not a morning person as I once was, a bit of a night owl." She shares.

"Oh really, why is that?" 

"I'm not sure." Y/N knows that's a lie; what she wanted to say is because she has no one to wake up to. No one to give morning kisses or morning cuddles. 

"You must still love mornings." 

"I do." He chuckles. "I do three-mile runs each morning." 

"Three!" She gasps. "I'd be tired the entire day; I prefer going on hikes or long walks." 

"Used to it already." 

"Pity, to your partner. Stealing cuddles from them." She mutters, taking a sip of her wine, hoping he didn't hear. 

Harry wants to respond, not sure if she was asking or stating. Oh, how he wishes he could know what she was thinking.

"Didn't know you were interested in medicine, Harry." 

"I wasn't, not until my injury." He rubs his shoulder as if he remembered the pain. "After finding out, I was done for; I just needed something entirely different. My physical therapist spoke about his journey to entering the field. He told me to enter something that captured my attention and something I would never get tired of learning about. It led me to psychiatry. My professors were great guidance." 

"John Hopkins, right?" 

"Yes, the very one." 

"Tough school." 

He laughs out loud, hand on his belly. "You're telling me, miss dean's list each semester. Graduating with highest honors from Harvard." 

"You know me, my head always stuck in a book." 

"Still don't take compliments." 

"Makes me feel weird. I love what I do; I can't wait to start and just learn it all. This sponge I call my brain is ready to absorb it all."

"I'm sure you're going to do amazing." 

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." She pats his knee before quickly retracting her hand back into her lap.

"Where is your residency?" Harry looks at her, a frown on his face. "Don't think I asked you." 

"Well, Harvard medical was a dream, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye, so I accepted Massachusetts General. I really love the environment they have in the hospital." She sets her wine glass down, turning her body to look at Harry. She misses the look of shock on his face. "Everyone is so kind--"

"Y/N," He tries, but she continues on.

"I went for a tour, and it was busy and crowded, but they were so kind with the children. When I entered the pediatrics ward, I just knew it's where I had to be."

"Y/N," 

"I already know who I'm going to be working under, and she's--" 

"Love," Harry tries his gaze on her face hoping to get a reaction.

That shuts Y/N right up; it has been a long time since she last heard that term of endearment. 

Her eyes are on Harry; he has her full attention. He can tell she's a bit stunned, but his news is life-changing. "I have my residency at Massachusetts General." 

"You what?" She was not expecting that news. Harry is in the same hospital as her. "Are you saying?" 

"We would have run into each other if we hadn't come home for the time capsule, yes." He answers for her. 

"Fate," she whispers.

Harry nods, eyes shining with tears. That one word was enough for Harry to know she might feel the same. 

He sees Y/N's eyes flicker to his lips, going back to his eyes, then leans in. He does the same, wanting to feel her close more than ever. 

"Y/N, you left the-" Harry and Y/N spring apart, the moment gone started by her mother. "Oh, hello, Harry."

Harry clears his throat, standing up to offer the woman who startled him a hug. "Hello Lorelai, wonderful to see you."

"How's your mother?"

"She's well. Left yesterday to visit my nephews for the weekend." 

"That's nice." 

The three now stand outside together, Y/N rocking back and forth on her heels, not able to standstill. 

"Truly wasn't expecting to see you," Lorelai tells him.

"We were catching up" Harry smiles at Y/N. "We were keeping each other company." 

"Very kind." 

"I should get going; it's late." Feeling as if he overstayed his welcome. 

Lorelai senses the tension a second too late as Harry is saying his goodbyes. "Well, please do stop by before you leave town." 

"Of course." 

"I'll walk you out." Y/N smiles at her mother as she leads Harry out through the side gate, personally wanting to avoid a run-in with her father.

Y/N, true to her word, walks him to his car; he is about to round his car, heading to the driver's seat but stops.

"Y/N?" His voice was shaky.

"Yes, Harry."

"Let's have dinner together." He rushes out in one go.

"Harry…" She pauses, "I--" 

He interrupts her. "Don't tell me you have a--" he trails off, not wanting to say the word.

"Course not." She replies quickly.

"But,"

Y/N takes a deep breath, taking a moment to get her thoughts together. "I won't do this unless this is it. This is the time I'm yours again. For good." 

"You've always been mine." He steps forward, hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She lets out a sigh, feeling a sense of peace take over her body. "Eight years and no one compared. No one ever will." 

"H." He can see the tears in her eyes. 

"I mean it. I've always been in love with you. I will always be in love with you. It will always be you."

Y/N closes the gap between them; they are the closest they have been in eight years. She searches his face for any sign of doubt but finds none. Only sees love in his beautiful emerald eyes.

"I love you." She confesses feeling a weight leave her shoulders as the words leave her mouth for the first time in years. "I never stopped. I will never stop." 

"Sweetest words I have ever heard. Words I want to hear forever." Harry's smile is one she had never seen before; it's wide, and she swears it reaches the sky. His eyes hold a shine they never have before. 

There's one last thing she needs for this moment to be perfect.

"Please kiss me."

"With pleasure." 

She's never dreamed of this moment in fear of it not happening, but it finally is, and Y/N swears she feels the stars aligned just for them. Harry's lips were getting closer, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She parted her lips and felt him washing over like a wave of warmth. She finally felt at home. Her whole body tingled, the feel of his frame leaning on jets as his arms wrapped around her tightly, afraid that she'd disappear. Y/N's fingers slowly moved up Harry's chest until they tangled with the back of his short curls. She tugged, needing more, feeling her legs buckle at the moan Harry let out. 

All she felt was love, and she wanted to feel it forever. Y/N let Harry pull away; he didn't go far, letting his forehead rest on hers. Their breaths mix together. There's a bashful smile on Y/N's face, but this moment feels too good to be true. 

Harry and Y/N stand there wrapped in each other's arms, lost in each other's gaze as if no one else existed and there was no risk of interruption. 

"I'll be here at noon tomorrow, going to take you out if you'll let me." 

"Yes, H. I accept." She kisses him softly two more times before unwrapping herself from him, putting a bit of distance between each other, or they very well would stand there all night kissing. 

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." She confirms 

Harry steals one last kiss, short and sweet, before getting in his car. He sends her a kiss that she pretends to catch and places it over her heart. 

She knows he is blushing even though she can't see it. 

As he drives away from her, all the hurt and pain of not having him washes away. Harry is hers, and she is his. 

All is right. 

Their paths finally crossed again, and this time there would be no final goodbye. 

_____

Harry showed up the day after as promised. Y/N was eagerly waiting, she had felt time go slow when they had been apart, but it's a monumental day because once again, after so many years, Harry and Y/N are finally reunited. 

She waited on the steps of her house like she used to when she was a teen waiting for him to pick her up and take her out on a date. It was bringing back the best memories. Harry parked right in front, and just as he was rounding his car to go meet her, she was in front of jumping in his car.

"Woah!" Harry was fast to react, only stumbling a little put holding her tight. "This is a nice welcome." He teases.

"Can you blame me? I missed you." She tells him, nuzzling her face in his neck. 

"Missed you too, love. Eight years, I've missed you." 

"Don't start, H. Don't want to cry. We're here now." 

"You're right." 

Y/N has Harry set her down; they stand there smiling at each other, taking each other in. 

"Up for a drive?" 

She nods. "Will you drive me to the moon?" 

"Anywhere you want, angel." 

Harry drives them to one place she hasn't visited because of the memory it holds. She's guessing it's because he wants to create new, better ones. 

"It's still beautiful here." She looks out through the window, not wanting to leave the safety of the car. She wants to stay close to Harry. 

Y/N sits in silence with Harry holding each other's hands, allowing each other to just enjoy this time together. The calmness of being loved and feeling loved. She knows there are lots to talk about, but she settles for the quietness for now. 

She's not sure how much time has passed, but she's now facing Harry, and he's toying with the rose ring hanging on her neck.

"Y/N," he whispers; she lifts her gaze from his lilac nails and hums for him to go on. "I have to ask." She lets his words sit in their silence. She knows what he's asking, the same thing running through her mind. 

"No." She frowns. "It felt wrong. I could never-- it was never you." 

Harry can tell she feels sheepish confessing this. 

She chuckles dryly. "I must sound lame; the last person I kissed was you eight years ago."

"No, it's not." He assures her. 

She sighs, "Harry." 

"It was the same for me. My friends tried to set me up multiple times, but it felt like cheating. No one understood." 

"So you haven't…" She trails off. 

"Well acquainted with my hand." He jokes.

She burst out laughing, and seconds later, Harry is as well. Their joyous laugh fills the car but also their hearts. 

"I love you." She breathes out, trying to catch her breath.

"And I love you." 

"Want to know a secret," she asks him.

He nods.

She turns her head to the window; she can see herself and Harry in the reflection. His eyes on her full of adoration. 

"I wrote you letters, hundreds. I've lost count, really, but I've got a box full; they are locked up in mom's attic." Y/N turns, looking back at Harry; there's a soft look on his face. "I wanted to send them, but I couldn't. I didn't want to interfere."

"Darling, that's-" he chokes up, tears escaping him. "Can I read them?" 

Y/N nods, "Of course, they were intended for you after all."

"Will you read them with me?" 

"Sure, if that's what you want." 

"Do you want to know something now?"

Y/N reaches forward and brushes a loose curl back. "Tell me." 

"Each book I've read, I have written a dedication in it for you." 

"What?" She says, surprised. 

"The new bookshelf in mom's living room is filled with books." He waits for her to nod before continuing on. "All books for you."

"Harry," It's her turn to cry now, it seems.

"Thought about you just as much, angel." 

"Do you think we did the right thing, letting each other go?" 

"I do."

"Why?" 

"It brought us together again. Sure it was the time capsule, but there is also Massachusetts." He reminds her.

"Isn't that wild?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Same residency."

"It was fate, angel. Like you said last night." 

"Yeah, guess fate had a plan, after all, dove." 

Harry chokes up, tears welling up in his eyes. "What did you say?" 

"Fate had a plan."

"After."

"Dove," she breathes out, not even noticing she slipped it in; it came out like second nature. "You're my dove, my kind man, the love of my life." 

Harry grabs her face and connects his lips to hers. It's not soft; it's fast and hot but full of love. She leaned back, feeling the heat in her cheeks. Harry chases her lips, not finished yet. She lets him kiss her as he pressed soft pecks on her lips, liking the feel of her soft lips. 

"Is it too soon to ask to marry you?" Harry asks, trailing kisses down her neck. 

"No, never too soon." She giggles as he kisses a soft spot right under her jaw. "If I recall, I asked you one too many times during high school." 

Harry chuckles, nodding. "Should have accepted sooner." 

She looks at him, not being able to contain her laughter, knowing very well he should have.

"Marry me." He asks, all traces of laughter gone. He holds his breath, waiting for a response. 

"Yes, of course, dove." 

Harry seals it with a kiss. She accepted, and yes, it may seem rushed, but they aren't getting any younger. Their love was put on hold, and now because the time is right, they get to pick up as if no time passed at all. 

They are different people, but Harry and Y/N have only become more perfect for one another. 

2000 DECEMBER - MASSACHUSETTS 

Her eyes snap open, and she quickly sits up, throwing the blanket off herself feeling hot and unfocused, startling Harry making him drop the Pop-Tart he was eating to fall on his chest. 

She looks back at Harry, sitting up with crumbs covering his mouth and half-eaten brown sugar cinnamon sitting on top of his black sweats. 

Y/N can't help but laugh at the sight in front of her, her nightmare now pushed aside. 

"You're laughing." He pouts. "You gave me a proper scare." 

She frowns, "I had a bad dream." 

"Yeah, want to talk about it?" 

She shakes her head no, instead asking him an important question. "Why are you eating Pop-Tarts in bed?" She picks up the broken half and takes a bite, appreciating the strong cinnamon flavor. 

"I got hungry, but I didn't want to leave you alone, and honestly, I'd never willingly leave your cuddles." 

"Did you bring me my own?" She mutters, swallowing the last piece of his.

"Why, of course, I'm no monster." 

"What time are you going in today?" She asks as she opens up the package handing him half since she ate his. He happily accepts. 

"Noon." 

She glances at the alarm clock and sees it is only nine am. She mumbles an 'okay,' settling herself to lay her head on his chest. 

"How are you spending your day off?" His hand running through her hair, always wanting to be touching her in some way.

"In bed." 

Harry doesn't like that. "Still feeling sick." He states.

"Yes, but I'm fine." 

"Okay, but we do work in a hospital." He playfully reminds her.

She lets out a deep sigh. "I'll have Annie check on me tomorrow." 

"Thank you." He kisses her temple, definitely leaving crumbs of food behind.

"I love you, Harry." 

"I love you too." 

Y/N and Harry had come a long way from the Summer of 98'. They got back together and were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Their families were thrilled at the news of them getting back together and even happier when they learned about their shared residency location. 

That Summer led them to where they are now; two years into their residency programs and one year into marriage. 

Harry could not wait; he had wanted to take her to city hall for a quick signature but knew she deserved better. They were wed in the botanical garden under the beautiful flower arch she dreamed of. It was the wedding she always dreamed of; it was small and beautiful. Only their closest friends and family were in attendance. Their wedding photo; Harry gazing at her as if she put all the stars in the sky and Y/N smiling at the camera. It sits framed on Y/N's bedside. He decided it went there, so when he turns to look over at her, he sees all of her beauty laid out for him and the happiest day of his life. 

Harry had fought her on changing her last name, wanting her to be called Doctor Y/LN because she worked for it and was a man who wanted his wife to shine and do all she set her mind to. Harry went as far as suggesting hyphenating but still no. She changed her last name to 'Styles.' Y/N told him she spent years dreaming about it in high school, even years later when he wasn't by her side. It's an honor to share his last name because one day, their future children would as well. 

Y/N has a year left in her pediatrics residency, and Harry has two years to go. She has her fellowship to think about, which will add three more years; her focus on Critical Care Medicine. Harry has decided on Addiction Psychiatry which is only a year-long, but he's got his last two years to worry about first. 

Life has been going well, they've had their fair share of arguments but nothing they can't fix. Harry can't say he doesn't love making up; it always leads to a good time.

They didn't know what life had in store for him but looking around at the photos they have hanging up, a picture of Mitch and Sarah's little boy Nathaniel who only gets bigger every time they see him. A photo of Sydney showing off her engagement ring, face full of tears but smile large; Zac off traveling the country smiling in his picture of him visiting the Grand Canyon part of his trip to visit each National Park and document his journey. 

This group of six friends is living their dreams; at sixteen, none of them know what life would be like twelve years down the road, but if it wasn't for each of them having this friendship and deciding to bury a time capsule, they might not be where they are right not; happier and more in love than ever. 

Harry and Y/N are filled with love and know life couldn't be better than it is; incredibly grateful to be in love and be loved back just the same. 

Little do they know their love will soon have to be shared.

_____

Thank you so much for reading! 

I love you and I hope you loved this story <3

#harry styles #timetravelathon #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry fluff #thank you for reading!

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 3: Earthrealm

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You meet the mythical Lord Raiden. He reminds you of your dad, but nicer, oddly enough. Liu Kang might also be your new best friend.

A/N: Thanks again everyone! This has been such fun. I meant to say earlier that this takes place a couple years prior to the film (also that I know a bit about MK as a game series, so I will include tidbits here and there if I can). ALSO! I am open to any suggestions that you may wish to see throughout this story- either for Liu Kang or Kung Lao. I can't guarantee I will use them but I will consider them. I am delighting in writing this!! EDIT:: lol why did no one tell me there were so many errors in this one. All fixed!

The Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The days that followed were a struggle. Monks would visit and care for your wounds at all hours of the day. You were in and out of consciousness. When you did manage to stay awake, you would meditate and do simple exercises to keep your body strong. That was a struggle in itself. Wounds needed rest to heal but you refused to become weak to them in the meantime. You were ready to fight.

Without fail Liu Kang would visit every evening. He brought books for you to read together. On his second visit he gifted you with a crudely bound leather journal and a pen to take notes with. You were inquisitive and Liu Kang was a wealth of knowledge. On nights where you finished a book or a lesson early, you would meditate together. Other nights you would chat and often times those chats would end in swapping personal stories. You had become fast friends.

You kept a calendar in the back of the journal. Liu Kang helped account for the time that you’d lost to unconsciousness. A week had passed since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple. You circled the x over the day and wondered where Kung Lao was. You’d asked around about him but had been told that many of the Earthrealm warriors were often absent. Apparently, he was frequently gone for long stretches of time. Many of the monks left on lengthy errands. Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm extended far beyond China. You wondered how much of the world Kung Lao had seen. You’d barely ever left your hometown for anything other than martial arts tournaments.

“Miss Y/N?” A monk pulled aside the sheet that had been pinned around the doorway of the small closet-sized space that had become your semi-permanent dwelling. You offered the monk a tired smile and gestured to allow him to enter. The monk bowed politely. “Your presence has been requested by Lord Raiden.”

“Oh?” You had known that you would meet with the man who the temple belonged to eventually. Liu Kang had told you that you would be summoned only after you’d been deemed well enough. You hadn’t passed out in exhaustion for the last 48 hours so you supposed this was as good a time as any. “Give me a moment to change, if you will.”

“Yes, of course Miss Y/N.” The monk bowed and left you with some privacy. You’d grown accustomed to the dressing gowns. They were comfortable and since you didn’t move around much, they worked. You’d been given several lightweight gi for future training and several hanfu, traditional Chinese garments, to wear if you desired. You wished, more than anything, that you’d gotten to pack some of your things before everything had gone to hell. No t-shirts or tank tops. No jeans or leggings. Not even any cute summer dresses. But you were grateful to have anything.

You changed into the soft blue and white hanfu that had become your favorite. It was simpler in design than the others but still long and flowing. You didn’t need anything terribly fancy to have a conversation with someone. You were sure that if Lord Raiden expected you to dress up then you would have been warned. Considering that Liu Kang rotated through the same three tattered gi and was almost always covered in soot, you doubted there was a strict dress code.

After you changed, you pulled your hair up lazily with a set of chopsticks. Then you returned to the monk who was waiting for you in the hall. The monk bowed again and then led you through the halls of the temple. The floor you’d been on had very few windows and only in the hallways. You followed the monk up several ramps and flights of stairs. Endless halls branched in every direction making the whole place seem labyrinthian. You were certain that you could spend weeks exploring the halls and still manage to miss things.

If the monk hadn’t been leading you then you wouldn’t have been able to resist your curiosity. After a good thirty minutes spent walking, you were led into a dark hallway with a rounded ceiling. It disappeared into the distance lit only by odd white statues that stood in a line along its center. The monk bowed and gestured down the hall.

“Good luck, Miss Y/N.” The monk then left you alone. You approached the glass statues in the center of the hall and found their insides sparking with electricity. They were funny in that they reminded you of a sophisticated and silent Tesla coil that fired constantly. Below the frosted glass you could see currents of electricity flowing almost as you imagined lightning would through the clouds. Your fingers brushed curiously over the glass.

“Miss Y/N?” A commanding and deep voice called from the end of the hall. You felt like a child who had disobeyed your teacher and winced. You hurried down the hall as quickly as your legs would allow then bowed before entering the room at its end.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen much outside of the infirmary. I was fascinated.”

The man who stood before you was of average build and height, his face mostly obscured by his hat. You grinned in surprise and recognition but then quickly fought to hide your glee. Raiden’s expression was severe, reminding you very much of your father and the way he’d glare at you when you’d said something un-lady-like as a child.

“There is much to discuss.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the floor in front of where he was seated with his legs crossed so you did. Much to your surprise, he was floating several inches off the ground and while you tried to hide your shock, you were sure your eyes had gone wide. “I am Lord Raiden; the protector of Earthrealm.”

“It’s an honor to meet you. Liu Kang has told me a little about you.”

“I am not surprised.” Raiden had a commanding voice as well as presence so you listened attentively. He explained the nature of other realms though he didn’t go terribly in depth with their origins or existence. Outworld was their greatest opposition with the desire to control earth and humanity. They were brutal warmongers from how Raiden described them. He then explained the tournaments and how if Outworld won a tenth tournament they could lay claim to Earthrealm.

Shang Tsung, a powerful sorcerer, would lead his armies there and take humanity as slaves. You didn’t ask but you wondered if Shang Tsung was the ruler of Outworld. You figured that if it were important then Raiden would tell you. He went on to tell you that Outworld had done this before with other realms and they had been devastated into waste.

Raiden spoke in a way that made it seem as though he had lived through countless lifetimes. While his tone often sounded severe, he also spoke with great purpose. “Our next tournament will not be for a few more years. You are one of Earthrealm’s chosen warriors.” Raiden’s lecture was winding down. “Do you have any questions?” You had known much of what Raiden had taught you that day but still sat patiently through it.

“I think I understand. If I have any questions later then I can ask Liu Kang. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around this craziness, for lack of a better word. He’s been very patient with me. The idea of arcana and how I’m meant to fight warriors from another world is still wild to me but I understand the concept. I think with time and practice I will be better off.” You stifled a giggle and then cleared your throat to stop any further giggles from escaping.

“Is there something you find funny?”

Guilt again. The kind you’d felt exclusively around your parents.

“You’re the man with the funny hat.” Your cheeks burned when he seemed affronted by your description of him. “I don’t mean to come off as rude! Forgive me. My shop is on the edge of town and there are many travelers passing through. I remember you from one of those visits. You chose your words carefully and spoke very little. You required precious stones and, as I often do, I made polite small talk. I asked what you needed them for and you said in the protection of Earthrealm which you quickly corrected to the protection of nature. You opened my eyes long ago to the secrets of the world though I was doubtful there was any truth to it until now.”

Raiden’s expression shifted and he seemed pleased but he was also difficult to read. You hoped he was pleased. Despite his severe and intimidating presence, he seemed well meaning.

“I don’t recall this instance but am happy to learn that there are those who learn the truth without panic or dismissal.”

“So, I have to fight then.”

“More than fight. You must find your arcana so that you may stand a chance against the warriors of Outworld. They are ruthless and possess skills that may seem impossible to you. Without your arcana you will not stand a chance.”

“How do I do that? Find my arcana, I mean.”

“Through trial and adversity. Everyone is different. Your arcana is unique to you.” Raiden stood and so you did the same. “Your training will begin tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure you were ready for that but you bowed respectfully. That was tomorrow’s problem. “Thank you. I promise to work my hardest.”

Raiden said nothing but didn’t look as though he quite believed you capable. You had long ago stopped seeking the approval of others. Actions spoke louder than words and you would do as you promised. Raiden turned from you without another word. You waited for an awkward moment to be dismissed then turned and left. You chose not to linger in the hall with the pretty lightning sculptures that had distracted you earlier.

The path back to the infirmary wasn’t easily found and you wandered aimlessly for a time before asking a monk to help you back to the infirmary. You were exhausted. Upon arrival you closed the curtain to your tiny room and sat on the edge of your bed. Your arms were aching. You were sore and tired. Gravity didn’t agree with your healing wounds. Training was going to be a bitch but you would be better for it.

Retrieving the journal Liu Kang had given you, you made yourself cozy after rekindling the flame of your lantern. You went over the notes from the day before and smiled. Your handwriting was often sandwiched between his. You’d had a difficult time holding a pen for the first few days and your handwriting was atrocious. There had been times where you’d been too dazed with exhaustion so Liu would take over and explain what he was writing down. He was incredibly considerate.

You drifted to sleep leaning against the wall behind your narrow bed, book in your arms. In your very brief dreams you’d been seated with a young Kung Lao in the field outside of your grandparents’ farm. The more you remembered of him the more you could see the man he’d grown up to be.

A knock against stone startled you awake and you jumped upright. Standing in your doorway, peering through the curtain was Liu Kang. He seemed surprised.

“Did I wake you?” He stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him for privacy. How long had you slept? Crap.

“What time is it? Did I sleep through training?”

“No.” He laughed and it was a welcome and comforting sound. “It’s quite late but I was busy today and had no time until now. I wished to see you before bed.” He spoke of you with such fondness that if you hadn’t been half asleep then you probably would have blushed. You adjusted yourself and made room for him to sit next to you on the bed as you often had while reading. He joined you gratefully. You watched as he brushed his thumb over the prayer beads that often went from wrapped around his wrist to his palm and back again. “Tomorrow is going to be difficult, Y/N.”

You guessed that he would be the one training you. He was one of the only warriors with the marking that stayed in Raiden’s Temple besides Kung Lao that you knew of.

“Promise not to pull any punches, okay?”

“I knew you would say that.” He nudged your shoulder with his.

“I mean it, Liu. It’s been over two weeks since this happened. I’m ready to fight. If I’m going to survive all of this… otherworldly supernatural nonsense then I have no choice. Besides that… I want to do this. I want to fight.”

“I need you to promise to be safe.”

“That’s very sweet, Liu, but I’m a fighter. I’ve been fighting for years. I’m ready to help and more importantly, I’m ready to feel strong again. This thing with the poison and my arms? It’s taken a toll on me. I need to be okay.”

“I understand, I think.” He slipped the beads back around his wrist and caught a glimpse of the journal that you’d fallen asleep holding. Then he looked back toward the door. He was nervous. You could feel it.

“Are you okay, Liu?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up the journal and tapped the pages. “Would you like to study?”

“Can’t sleep, can you?”

“Oh, right. It’s late. I apologize. I woke you. I should let you rest.” He stood, bowed, and then turned to leave. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. If your arms hadn’t been aching, you would have pulled him back to you. Liu Kang was very aware of the strain that it would put on you to pull so he stopped dead in his tracks. He was always aware of what was going on around him and your aching arms appreciated that more than ever.

“You can stay. We can keep reading. I’d like that.” You insisted. Liu Kang smiled and so you let go of his hand, realizing that you’d been holding it for perhaps too long. He grabbed a hefty book that had been resting beneath your side table. You’d made your way a quarter through it over the past few days. Then you sat together, leaning against the wall. He read to you and his soothing voice nearly lulled you back to sleep. It provided you with a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a long time. Studying with him, even in your worst moments of pain, had become a fond memory.

The words were familiar and so you snapped one eye open. “We already read this.” You waited for a pause in his natural cadence.

“No, we did not.”

“We did, look.” You pointed to your journal and the scribbles in it from the night before. Your handwriting really was terrible. You could make out bits and pieces of it. Liu had the patience of a saint for trying to decipher it. He squinted at the letters.

“I can’t read that. No one can read that, Y/N.” He tapped the page you had pointed to. “That could say almost anything. Are you bored with the history of the Wu Shi Academy?”

“No! We were just further along than this, that’s all. Look, just…” You shoved the journal in front of the book and he laughed. His laugh was sweet and filled with warmth. “I think that this is highlighting this passage here about the foundations and the energy wells beneath it…”

“You can’t possibly read that. We have established that it’s gibberish.”

“I wrote it! I can sort of make out little bits…”

“We have to work on your penmanship, Y/N.”

“I got all sliced up where the tendons and stuff are. They’re still healing!” You whined and then pouted. Liu took the journal and set it on the bed just beyond your feet. You reached past him and turned the pages of the book, searching for the next chapter. “At least get to the part with the arena. You promised that we would learn about that next. You went on and on about it.”

“I did no such thing. You can admit that you’re bored.” Liu teased. You flipped the pages again without his permission so he tried to tug the book away and you jolted to the side with him, hair falling into your face, chopsticks now useless. Much to your surprise, as you righted yourself, Liu helped you and pushed your messy hair away and tucked some of it behind your ear. Your laughter subsided and you avoided his eyes as his admired you. You swore your heart skipped a beat. “Your hair.” He brushed a few strands between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh?” You dared to look into his dark eyes that were rivers of thought and emotion. You had no aspirations of unraveling them. You liked their mystery.

“The color.”

“Oh, yeah… I uh… I haven’t been able to keep up with dye here and it’s naturally white.” You pointed to the roots that had begun to show.

“White? That’s peculiar.”

“Wow, thanks. Yeah, I know it’s weird.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. It looks nice.” He seemed to realize that his hand was very much still in your hair. His tongue ran nervously over his lower lip while he was lost briefly in thought before he pulled his hand back. “We’ll read about the arena but only because you have chosen to entertain me at a late hour instead of turning me away.”

“And because you realized I was right.” You joked but your stomach was very much in knots. This was no time to be feeling butterflies in your stomach but there they were. Liu Kang made you feel butterflies. Literal butterflies. You hadn’t understood that idiom until now.

“There will be a test, Y/N.” He joked and smoothed out the pages of the book. You retrieved the journal and pen but had given up on writing notes for the night. Your arms were still aching and you were drained. Liu delighted in sharing a map of the ancient arena and reciting battles that he’d won and lost there. His voice was a soothing and familiar drone and before you realized it, you were falling asleep, head falling against his shoulder.

Instead of leaving you there to sleep, Liu Kang continued to read. Sometime later you woke up and the flame in the lantern had gone dim. Liu was still seated next to you, his head now rested atop yours. From his soft, slow breaths, you guessed that he had fallen asleep too. The book was rested neatly on top of your journal as if he had made the decision to put it aside and stay. You should wake him and send him back to his room. He would be more comfortable there. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay. He’d chosen to stay so you decided to let him have his choice.

For the first time since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple, you went to sleep feeling secure and comfortable.

Next Chapter >>

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao #liu kang #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #fanfic #drabble #fluff #mk movie #arcana #female reader #reader insert #liu kang x you #kung lao x you #drama #romance #fanfiction #ludi lin #max huang #liu kang/you #kung lao/you #the oncoming storm #angst #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfic #slow burn

[alt-rose]

a trip to syracuse - colson baker

colson baker imagine

a trip to syracuse - a trip to syracuse leads to a cameo and a heart to heart.

word count: 4.9K (someone stop me)

the scene is in big time adolescence. if you haven’t seen it, i highly recommend. it’s on hulu. 

(this could be considered a part 2 to 21, but it could be read alone)

(GIF from tenor)

it was July. you had spent your last few months working your ass off at SNL before staring as a lead in your first comedy film after your second season of SNL had ended. you had been all over the country in the last few months. you were in New York for work. then, you traveled home to your hometown to visit your family during your first week of the summer hiatus. then, you had to ship out to LA to work on your movie. then, you somehow ended back in your hometown.

you were everywhere. busy. never had time for yourself, or the time to do what you really wanted.

you hadn’t seen Colson since a few weeks after your birthday weekend. you texted back and forth. you called occasionally when you both had time. he made you laugh, and you, of course, enjoyed hearing about all his crazy stories. you looked forward to the random pictures he sent you from the studio or from set. he liked having something to share with someone, or rather, someone to share things with.

the two of you were like two best friends that could share everything with each other without needing to be physically there for each other. you could go days without talking because of your busy schedules, yet whenever you caught up with each other, it felt so natural. your relationship felt impossible to explain to anyone that asked. you felt connected to him somehow, but you couldn’t place the feeling.

--

             colson baker: you should come visit me

that was the text you got at 3 am on a Wednesday, well technically Thursday.

you smiled at your phone as you stared at it. the light blinded you as you laid in bed in your dark bedroom at your parent’s house. it was 4 am in New York. what could he have possibly been doing? you learned not to ask that question often when it came to Colson and Pete. they were night owls and tended to drink or smoke anything they could get their hands on. for your sake, you’d rather not know what they were doing. it helped keep your nerves at bay.

however, 4 am in New York tended to worry you a bit. you opened your phone, squinting as the light grew brighter. you began to type back.

             you: I should?

             you: please tell me you are being safe

you scrolled through your phone as you waited for a response. your phone buzzed with a notification. you opened the message.

             colson baker: safe at pete’s place

ah. Pete’s place was their new hangout. Pete was staying with his girlfriend, AG, as you called her, and it was technically her place. they were getting ready to head to Syracuse in a week or so for Pete’s new movie that Colson was making a cameo in.

             colson baker: you should visit

             colson baker: call me a pussy but I miss you

you smiled at that text. he missed you. your heart thumped in your chest.

             you: I miss you too

             you: text me tomorrow when you are sober and it’s not the middle of the night.

             you: let’s see if sober colson wants me to visit

you watched as the typing bubbles appeared before the message appeared.

             colson baker: sober colson said yes

             colson baker: but, I’ll text you tomorrow about it

you laugh at his message before typing back.

             you: goodnight cols

             you: get some rest

your eyes began to lull shut, but you were determined to stay up for the next ten minutes in case he wanted to text you.

you fell asleep to one finally message from him.

             colson baker: goodnight velcro monkey

somehow the velcro monkey joke always made an appearance when someone was drunk or high. it made them laugh at how the reserved, independent person you were could turn into the clingiest drunk on the planet.

you smiled one last time before shutting off your phone and going back to sleep.

--

the next morning, you sat in your parents’ kitchen answering emails on your laptop. your attention was occasionally pulled away from work as you watched your dogs play in the family room. it was good to be home for a bit, but your parents and dogs were a bit distracting when it came time to work.

             “your phone has been buzzing for the last 20 minutes,” you mom said setting your phone down at the kitchen table. “you left this upstairs.”

             “god, thank you,” you tell her not looking up from your computer.

             “a lot of messages from a Colson Baker,” she gives you a look, raising her eyebrow.

             “who’s Colson Baker?” your dad asked butting into the conversation as he made his way into the kitchen.

you moved to quickly snatch you phone from them. you were an adult now with an adult job, yet they still treated you like a teenager.

             “a friend,” you reply as you opened your phone.

you had four messages and a missed call from Colson.

             “seemed like they really wanted to get a hold of you,” you mom hummed as she moved to make her third cup of coffee that day.

             “why do they want to get a hold of you so badly? seems important,” your dad chimed in.

             “guys, it’s fine. please chill,” you reply. “just a friend. anyway, I have to take this call.”

you got up from the table before taking your dogs out to your back patio. you took a seat on one of the outdoor lounges as you called Colson.

             “hey,” his raspy voice rang through the phone.

             “hey,” you sigh. “what’s up with Syracuse?”

             “you should come visit me in Syracuse.”

             “I know, but why Syracuse?” you laugh.

             “Pete’s doing his movie, and we’re both making a cameo.”

you went silent for a bit.

             “we talked to the director this morning. they need background for my cameo scene, so I suggested you to Pete, and he was cool with it. the director said it was cool if you wanted to join the project for a cameo.”

             “are you serious?”

             “deadly. come spend the rest of the summer in Syracuse with me.”

             “I’ll have to check my schedule-”

             “shut up,” he laughed. “I know you’re free.”

             “you’re right,” you sighed. “my family isn’t going to be happy with me leaving again, but they can just visit when SNL starts back up.”

             “so you’ll do it?”

             “sure, what else do I have to do?” you asked adjusting the phone to your ear. “plus, a week or two in Syracuse with you and Pete would be fun.”

             “YES,” you heard him shout over the phone. “aight, cool,” he finally calms down. “I’ll let Pete know.”

             “alright, Cols. sounds good,” you sigh into the phone.

             “what’s wrong?” he asked after a beat.

             “nothing. I’m just trying to figure out how to explain why a Colson Baker was blowing up my phone earlier to my parents.”

you heard him let out a laugh from his end. you heard him murmur something to someone. you heard him laugh once more before he addressed you.

             “Pete said to tell your parents that I’m your dealer.”

             “tell Pete that my parents might have a heart attack.”

you heard him mumble something before you heard a roar of voices.

             “tell your parents that Colson works as a janitor for NBC,” you heard Pete yell into the phone.

             “you guys are ridiculous,” you sigh into the phone as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

             “but you love us,” Pete sang into the phone.

             “yeah, I do.”

you heard them laugh.

             “you could just tell you parents the truth,” Colson suggested. “I don’t mind your family knowing. the whole reason we were keeping it quiet was to keep you out of the spotlight.”

you thought about it for a minute.

             “and what exactly are we keeping from her family?” you heard Pete in the background.

             “that I’m her best friend now. I replaced you,” Colson quickly replied.

             “HEY,” you yelled sitting up in your seat. “I never said that.”

             “it’s okay,” Pete said louder into the phone. you can only assume he was closer to the phone. “I know you love him more than me.”

             “that’s not true,” you said in a defensive tone. “I love you both equally.”

             “RIIIIIGHT,” Pete drew through the phone.

             “right,” Colson agreed.

             “it’s okay. I know who you text when you’re supposed to be working, (y/n),” Pete slyly said in the phone.

             “knock it off, Pete,” you growl into the phone, causing the guys to laugh. “where’s your girlfriend? can’t you go bother her?”

             “oh shit,” you heard Pete say. “I forgot to bring her the food we made. bye (y/n).”

you laughed at him before you heard Colson.

             “I took you off speaker. he went back into his room with the food.”

             “you guys made breakfast?”

             “yeah, our post-mushroom pancakes,” he said. “totally came down from them a half hour ago. the food’s probably cold as shit now.”

             “RIP to AG’s kitchen.”

             “RIP, indeed.”

you laughed.

             “I can’t wait to see you, Cols,” you smile into the phone.

             “I’m excited to see you, too. I’ll send you a plane ticket.”

             “I can pay for my own plane ticket. it’s okay,” you reply. “you can save that up to buy me dinner when I get to Syracuse.”

             “(y/n) (y/l/n), are you asking me on a date?”

             “too forward?” you laugh.

             “not forward enough. maybe, I could buy you breakfast too?”

you laugh and cover your mouth with his suggestion before you finally calm yourself down.

             “maybe you could,” you reply coolly.

             “NOOOO,” he whined into the phone. “can you come to New York now?”

you laughed together before the conversation lulled into a gentle silence.

             “can I tell you a secret?” you whisper into the phone.

             “shoot.”

             “I’ve been listening to your music.”

you paused waiting for his reaction.

             “oh boy, have I converted you to hip hop and rap?”

             “no, I made an exception for Machine Gun Kelly,” you smile.

             “really?” you could hear him shift around. “got a favorite?”

             “27,” you reply too quickly. “I’m a sucker for the piano. Kiss the Sky and Habit are pretty good too.”

             “next show I have, you’re gonna be in the crowd. I want to perform for you.”

             “for me?” you ask in a posh voice. “you could always give me a private show.”

             “I just might.”

suddenly, your attention was pulled to your mom who was standing at the back door. you raise an eyebrow at her as you listened to Colson mumble through the phone.

             “hold on, Cols,” you tell him. “what’s up?” you ask her.

             “we’re leaving in a half an hour to go to dinner at your grandparents. you need to get ready,” she replied.

you nod to her. she stood in the doorway waiting for you to get off the phone. you raised another eyebrow at her. she wanted to eavesdrop on your conversation.

             “alright,” you sigh. “Cols, I have to go. I have dinner with my grandparents.”

             “fine. fine. call me later?”

             “yeah, I’ll call you later.”

             “bye (y/n), love you.”

you smiled at that. even though the love was platonic, it felt good to hear it from him.

             “bye Cols, love you too.”

once you hung up, you gave your mom a pointed look.

             “love, huh?” she smiled.

             “just a friend,” you mutter before calling the dogs in.

             “just a friend that you love,” she teased.

             “so who is Colson Baker?” your dad chimed in once the two of you made it inside.

             “he’s a friend of Pete and I,” you reply heading to the stairs.

             “what does he do?” your dad asked looking up from his phone.

             “just look him up. I have to get ready.”

once you safely made it up the stairs and away from their questions, you began to rummage through your closet for clothes. you were pulled out of your search by your dad yelling up the stairs.

             “MACHINE GUN KELLY. YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH MACHINE GUN KELLY?”

--

a week and a half later, you were on a plane to Syracuse. your parents weren’t super hip about you leaving so soon, but you argued that it was for work. and, it was. you weren’t lying.

they also were not so happy about your friendship with Colson, or Machine Gun Kelly as they knew him. your mom argued for the tattoos, which made no sense, since they liked Pete, and he had tattoos. they were also not so impressed that he was a rapper.

maybe, you shouldn’t have let them read all the articles about him.

he was heavily misunderstood by the media, and Colson was not ‘Machine Gun Kelly’. he was Colson Baker. you tried to explain that he was so much more than what the media portrayed, but your parents were more of the seeing rather than believing type.

with that all said, you were happy to be out of the house. you were tired of constantly arguing for and defending your friendship. anytime you got super defensive of Colson, your family accused you of being in love with him. were you? hell yeah. but, you weren’t going to admit that to anyone. you ran from your feelings, remember?

once you finally landed at the airport in Syracuse, you texted the guys.

             colson baker: in line waiting for you

             colson baker: north pick up line

             colson baker: black escalade

when you finally made it out the doors with your baggage, you searched for the black escalade. you attention was pulled to the sound of doors opening, and you found Colson on the passenger side of the car as Pete climbed into the backseat. you smiled as you watched the guys. you made your way to them.

             “hi,” you smile.

             “hi,” Colson replied looking down at you.

you kinda forgot what it was like to be around six-foot giants. Colson moved to take your bag from you before putting it in the trunk. after you helped him load up your bag, he took your hand and led you to the passenger seat.

before you could hop in, he grabbed you and kissed you. you moved to grip the fabric of his jacket as you kissed him back.

             “did you just kiss her? what? did he just kiss you?” Pete asked dumbfounded from the backseat as he looked back and forth from you and Colson.

you laughed to yourself as you buckled your seat belt while Colson made his way to the driver’s seat. as he hopped in and buckled up, he turned to you. you laughed before turning to Pete.

             “anyone want to answer me? did you kiss her?” Pete said slapping Colson’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

             “yeah, I did. what are you going to do about it?” Colson raised an eyebrow at him.

you laughed picking at the skin of your lip.

             “what the hell? am I third wheeling this whole trip?”

             “dude, you would have had me third wheeling this whole trip if we didn’t invite her.”

             “how long?” Pete whined. “how long has this been a thing?”

             “since my birthday,” you reply quietly.

             “since your birthday,” he said dropping his jaw. “that was months ago.”

             “I know,” you laugh. “to be fair, we haven’t seen each other much since. we’ve been talking and stuff, though.”

             “what the hell, guys.”

you and Colson both laughed as he pulled out of his spot in line and drove toward your hotel.

             “oh, I told my parents about you, and they googled you. they aren’t very happy.”

             “fantastic.”

--

you spent your first day on set waiting around for the guys in Pete’s trailer before your call time. you and Colson sat and talked, just being close to each other after months apart. once it was finally your call time, you got your makeup and hair done, which wasn’t much considering you were just an extra in a scene.

the director had you placed at a bar table with two other girls. drinks were all placed in front of you. you fixed your hair a bit before the director called action. the scene began and you just kept your head down, while you waited for your cue. one of the guys walked up to your table and began talking to the three of you. the camera panned over to your table, and the guy began his lines. you smiled and laughed at him.

             “I already have a tab open so if you want another-”

             “hey,” Pete yelled catching your attention. “I’m sorry about our friend. we found him in a dumpster. he’s a rescue. sorry”

             “it’s okay,” the girl next to you yelled.

             “aw don’t worry. he’s got all of his shots though, so he won’t bite,” Pete called back.

             “oh,” the girl laughed. “what about your puppy?”

             “who? Mo?”

             “yeah, he looks a little young to be in here.”

             “you look a little old to be in here,” Pete shot back. you had to hold in your laugh.

             “CUT,” the director yelled. “let’s do it one more time, just in case, and then move on.”

you repeated the scene once more before everyone moved on to the next part of your scene. the guys all crowded around your small table. Colson stood behind Pete, who was sitting on one of the barstools.

             “you guys look great. can we get another girl on the other side of Griffin please?” the director asked, gesturing to the second lead in the film. “(y/n), can you move?”

             “yeah,” you reply before hopping out of your seat to sit on the other side of Griffin. you then realized that you were directly in the camera’s line of vision.

you looked up at Colson who was across the table from you. he sent you a wink before taking a drink of whatever liquid was in his glass. you smiled back at him before Pete reached across the table to fist bump you. you laughed at him before getting ready for the scene.

the director moved back and called “Action.”

             “Mo actually got back from the army,” Pete started his lines.

             “yeah?” you respond.

             “yeah, he was there for 16 years,” Pete replied to you.

             “let’s not talk about, yeah,” Griffin responded giving Pete and Colson a look.

             “anyway, yeah, he hasn’t been laid in 16 years. how crazy is that?” Pete said before Colson could interrupt him.

             “aye, to Mo,” Colson said bring his glass in.

             “to Mo,” the table responded crashing the glasses together.

             “welcome back brother,” Colson said.

             “yeah, man.”

             “hoo-rah, right?” Colson said clinking his glass to yours.

             “hoo-rah,” Griffin cheered back.

             “hey, may we all make it to heaven before the devil knows we’re dead, baby,” Colson yelled.

             “YEAH,” Pete cheered back beating his chest like a frat boy.

             “cheers,” Griffin called before clinking his glass to yours.

             “wait. what does that mean?” Pete asked.

             “like, we’re sinners and-and-” Colson nodded his head. “and, bad motherfuckers, and he’s coming to suck us back…” Colson paused to do a little motion before continuing. “he wants us.”

             “isn’t that, like a Buzz Frontier song?” the other guy asked, and Colson looked up at him.

             “who wants us?” Pete interrupts looking at Colson. “what did he do? what did we do?”

             “Satan, motherfucker, wants us,” Colson said moving his head to emphasize each word.

he then bent his head back up before making eye contact with you. one of the other girls began to laugh, which caused the table to laugh with her. Colson sent you another wink, and you smiled back at him.

             “Cut,” the director called. “that was good. let’s do it one more time.”

--

you were sad that your scene was over. you liked working with Pete and Colson. after you finished getting out of your costume, you put your clothes back on before heading to Pete’s trailer. in there, Pete and Colson were lounging on the furniture.  

             “what are you two doing?” you laugh as you close the trailer door behind you.

             “waiting for you,” Pete shot back.

             “what’s the plan?” you asked taking a seat on the couch next to Colson.

he wrapped an arm around you.

             “I have to shoot for a few more hours, but we can meet up later,” Pete suggested.

             “do you want to go out?” Colson asked you. “while we wait.”

             “sure,” you nodded. “what time do you think you’ll be done?” you asked Pete.

             “not sure, but I’ll text you.” Pete stood up from his seat. “I have to get back, but I’ll see you later.”

             “aight,” Colson replied reaching to dab up Pete.

Pete took his hand before patting you on the head.

             “bye Pete,” you call to him as he leaves.

             “bye, be safe,” he laughs back at the two of you.

as you watched the door of the trailer shut, you felt a pair of eyes on you. you turned to find Colson staring down at you.

             “what?” you laugh at him. “do I have something on my face?”

             “no.” he gave you a small smile.

             “then, stop staring at me like that.”

             “staring at you like what?”

             “like that,” you said pointing at his face. “making me feel self-conscious.”

             “can’t help that you’re really pretty.”

             “and that’s my cue to go,” you say starting to get up from the couch.

Colson laughed behind you before pulling you back onto the couch.

             “do you want to go to the mall?” he asked smiling at you. “then I can take you out for that dinner you promised me.”

             “ohhhh, I guess I did promise you a dinner,” you hum. “let’s go then.”

--

             “try it on.”

             “no. did you see how many zeros were on that tag?”

             “jesus, just try it on.”

             “no.”

             “get in that goddamn dressing room and try on the goddamn dress,” Colson mutter quietly to you.

Colson had dragged you into some fancy boutique to “buy you a dress.” you resisted, of course, and the fact that he was so willing to buy you an expensive dress scared you. you were very responsible with your money, and you never splurged on yourself. this, of course, was not going over well with Colson now that you were refusing to even try on a dress that was more than a hundred dollars.

             “Colson, it’s really expensive,” you softly say looking up at him.

             “so?” he shrugged. “please let me buy you something nice.” he gave you the closest thing he could to ‘puppy dog eyes.’

             “jesus, fine,” you breathe pulling yourself from his eyes. “I’m trying it on, but if I don’t like it, you’re not buying it.”

             “scouts honor,” he said holding up his hand.

with that, you snatched the hot pink mini dress from his hands and marched toward the dressing room. you could hear Colson lightly laughing at you as he watched you.

once you made it into the dressing room, you took a seat on the bench. you put your head in your hands before taking a breath. were you doing this? yes, and it went against every bone in your body. after you settled yourself down, you began to take off your clothes before trying on the dress.

once you began to slip on the dress, you couldn’t get it to zip up. you tried every angle possible, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. you let out a heavy sigh before collecting yourself. you peeked through the sliver of the door to see if Colson was outside the dressing room. you found him browsing at a rack of clothes a few feet from your dressing room.

you opened the door by a crack before poking your head out.

             “Colson,” you whisper-yelled to him.

his head perked up before finding you. he began to stalk closer to you.

             “how does it look?” he asked when he got to you.

             “I think I need a bigger size,” you admitted to him.

             “I’ll go grab the next size up, but can I at least see it?”

             “no, it won’t zip up,” you shot back.

             “can I try?”

             “can you try?”

             “jesus christ,” he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “just turn around.”

you opened the door a bit more before turning around. you felt him place his hands on your hips before finding the zipper.

             “this should totally zip,” he whispered in your ear. “the zipper’s just stuck.”

you felt him move the zipper down before pulling it back up. the dress finally zipped.

you sighed once the dress finally fit properly. as you glanced in the mirror, you fell in love with the dress. you looked good. it was almost as if the dress was made for your body. it didn’t gap in weird places, and it wasn’t too snug. it felt perfect, and for its price, you were glad it was perfect. it would be a rip-off if it wasn’t.

             “damn,” Colson whispered.

             “damn,” you nodded.

             “you’re getting it.”

             “I’m not going to fight you on it,” you reply turning around to face him. “now, get out so I can get dressed.”

             “at least, let me unzip you first,” he laughed.

--

four hours and a shopping trip later, you and Colson were sitting in some fancy restaurant together. he was in a fashionable shirt and jacket while you sat in your hot pink mini dress.

             “thank you for dinner,” you say reaching across the table to take his hand.

             “you’re welcome,” he smiled at you after he handed the paid check back to the waitress. “I promised you a dinner, didn’t i?”

             “you did,” you laugh.

             “you wanna get out of here?” he suggests nodding toward the door.

        ��    “sure,” you nod back.

with that, he moved to help you out of your chair. with his hand in yours, the two of you headed to his rental car. he opened the passenger door for you. before you could get in the car, you turned and placed a hand on his cheek.

his eyes met yours, and your heart melted. his hands landed on your waist, and he pulled you close before planting his lips on yours. you leaned up to kiss him back. and there you were, standing in the parking lot of a fancy restaurant making out like a bunch of teenagers.

--

at sunset, the two of you were sitting at the private rooftop patio of your hotel. you were both laying on one of the daybeds watching the sky change colors. you were deep in thought.

             “I’m scared,” you admit staring up at the sky.

             “scared?” Colson quietly asked you from where he was laying next to you.

             “yeah,” you breathe. “I don’t do relationships. I run from them. maybe it’s my fear of rejection or my fear of getting hurt.” you pause for a moment. “I really like you. like really, really like you. and part of me is scared because I don’t want to get hurt, but I want a relationship. I want love, you know?”

             “I get it,” he murmured next to you.

you were both at the point of the night where deep conversations were rolling. should you have been so honest with him? who knows. would you regret it tomorrow? maybe. but, right now, it had been said.

             “and, I want a relationship with you.” he rolled over on his side to face you. “I’m just scared because I don’t want to be just another girl for you. you buy me a pretty dress and take me to dinner with the hopes that I land in your bed tonight, and it makes me wonder,” you whisper.

you could feel his gaze. he took one of your hands and placed a kiss on the backside of it.

             “you and I both know my track record with relationships kinda suck,” he starts. “but, I want this to work.” he brushed a peace of hair from your face. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone, and I’m going to be completely honest when I say it scares the shit out of me. and, if it makes you more comfortable, we can take this relationship at whatever speed you want it to go. I just want to be with you. I want to make this work, and I want to be a part of your life. I want this relationship to be more than just texts at 4 am and kissing you once every three months.”

you were both quiet for a bit. you were processing what he had said. he wants this to work. he wants to be with you. he wants this relationship, and he wants it to be more.

             “I’m gonna fall in love with you if you keep saying shit like that,” you whisper after your moment of silence.

             “good,” he smiled placing a hand on your cheek. “because, I’m falling in love with you.”

your breath caught in your throat. you wrapped your arms around his neck before pulling him down to you. he placed his lips on yours and kissed you. laying there in the daybed, you kissed him back.

             “be my whatever,” he whispered.

             “be your whatever?” you ask raising an eyebrow.

             “yeah, whatever you want to call yourself. just be mine. be mine, baby.”

             “okay.”

and you kissed him once more.

.

.

.

not sure how i feel about this. hopefully, this does justice for a part two, anon. i hope you enjoyed. feel free to send requests. - rose xx

#colson baker #colson baker imagines #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly imagines #machine gun kelly x reader

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part One [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

The sky was grey and the air was wet - it had been raining for 4 days straight. You sat in your car with the heat cranked, your window down slightly so that the humidity didn’t fog up your mirrors. Living on the Alaskan coast was beautiful most of the time but horrible some of the time, especially when you had to waste gas just keeping warm and dry at 6pm in the beginning of ‘Summer’. 

You had never lived anywhere else aside from the summer you spent in Vancouver with your cousin when you were 19. Now, at 23, you were working full time at the local bookshop that was an 8 minute drive from your house in the winter and a 20 minute walk/skate in the summer. Your car was parked street side, waiting for your friend Lizzy to finish her shift at the cafe. The smell of the rain and the Ben Howard song on the radio made you nostalgic about the times you and your friends from high school had spent hours skating down these streets, beers in your backpacks, no helmets, dirty shoes and clothes, no pressure, no responsibilities, no cell service...no worries. 

Since graduation a lot of your friends had moved out of town, either to Anchorage or down to Washington, or further south. Your best friend Lizzy had stayed close to home, helping run her families business and working part time at the cafe. You had stayed local too...your dad owned a fishing guide business and your mom was an admin assistant for the MD in town, but neither made enough to cover all the medical bills you had racked up over the last few years. You figured once the debt was paid off you might leave...but you had no idea where you would go. 

You missed all of your friends, but you missed the boys the most, aside from Lizzy you didn't have a lot of female friends, and your boys had been like brothers to you. You spoke to most of them every few weeks on FaceTime, except Rudy. He had gone to LA for awhile and had kept in touch loosely, but after the first few months he started to drift. 

You felt the loss the hardest for Rudy. He had been your closest friend the longest, you had spent nearly every day of every summer together since you were 9, and every school year you worked the same part time job at the seafood restaurant on the water. Now, the last you heard, he was coming back for the summer to ‘reconnect’. You had low expectations and tried not to let yourself get excited, but truthfully, you wanted him to spend some time at home and be around his own kind again - he had always been a homebody and you were worried that being gone for 4 years would go to his head or change him.

Lizzy tapped on the glass, causing you to blink out of your reverie and smile at her. You rolled the window down and let her reach in and open the door from the inside (the handle had been broken since high school). She threw her backpack and skateboard in the back seat, climbing in and closing her door.

“Ugh.” She grunted as her teeth chattered and she rubbed her bare legs. 

“You know its only May, you shouldn’t even be wearing shorts yet. The snow just melted.”

Lizzy glared at you playfully and put her hand out to do your handshake. You did it, then put the car in drive and started slowly down the street, windshield wipers moving rhythmically.

“How was the shift?” You asked as you checked your mirrors and wiped some humidity off the rear view. 

“Same old” Lizzy leaned back in her seat and pulled the visor mirror down to fix her hair. “That old man Collins from the cannery keeps coming in and harassing me.”

“Jack? The one with the eye patch?” 

Lizzy nodded dramatically as she held the bobby pins in her mouth and started to twist her straight black hair off her face. 

“That guy-“ She finished placing the final pin and slammed the visor closed “-Is an absolute creep.”

You snorted a sarcastic laugh and rolled your eyes.

“He’s like...70. And widowed. Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. Im just...asserting my boundaries.”

“You literally have a 3 foot counter between you at minimum, at all times.” You looked over at her and raised your eyebrows.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is we need hotter men in this town. Like...soon.”

You nodded in agreement and felt your eyes wander all over the road, remembering the time you and Rudy had taken your longboards down it after a torrential downpour and you had crashed and gotten such bad road burn that he had to call his dad to come pick you both up because you couldn’t walk.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening?” Lizzy cut back in, staring at you.

“No, what?”

“I said, speaking of hot guys, I heard Rudy is coming back for a few months.”

You pinched your face and looked at her then at the road, then back at her.

“Rudy is not hot. Rudy is....Rudy. What are you talking about?”

Lizzy looked at you disbelieving and closed her mouth, trying not to smile.

“What!” You repeated, smacking her arm.

“Hey!” She laughed, then shook her head and looked out the window. “Whatever you say man, I just think....” She grabbed her water bottle and began to screw off the lid “I just think...he’s not gonna be the same Rudy that left 4 years ago. He’s like...a movie star now.”

You couldn’t even begin to touch that one. You knew what she was doing...she was always harping on you about going on dates or taking trips with her to the mainland to hook up with the pilots during their layovers. You never went, and always insisted that you were just fine and were not interested. She never listened. Part of that was true...you were fine, and usually not interested. But sometimes, when the water was calm and the sunset was colourful and the fish were jumping and your beer was cold...you wished you had someone to share it with.

“I’m going up to Skagway this weekend with my dad” You said, changing subjects. “He’s short a guide and needs someone to drive the boat.”

“Lucky you” She said sarcastically, screwing the lid back on her bottle. “Another weekend spent with men twice your age who have zero ability to catch a fish and even less ability to smell nice.” 

“It’s good money.” You said flatly, annoyed that everything seemed to revolve around men with her. “And in case you forgot I’m kinda in need of that at the moment.”

Lizzy licked her lips and put her hands up, dipping her head. 

“Alright...noted. Chill out Kemosabe.” She giggled under her breath and looked out her window, drawing a small penis in the moisture on the window.

“Babe, seriously. You need to get laid.” You said, shaking your head.

“I know” She replied, working on the veins. “Trust me. Im in a state of national emergency by this time of year.”

Lizzy was absolutely one of the girliest girls (and most beautiful girls) in the south of Alaska, which was ironic considering the house she grew up in. Her dad was an overweight German restaurant entrepreneur who had opened a world class seafood restaurant in Juneau back in the 90s and had shacked up with her mother who was this drop dead gorgeous Haida warrior woman who you had literally seen kill and skin a bear with her own hands. 

They had forged this chain of restaurants local to Alaska that people flew hundreds of miles to eat at, but still lived in an off-grid cabin that hadn’t been insulated since 1960 and used wood heating. Not really the type of family that screamed southern belle femininity - yet somehow Lizzy came out of that union with a pink bed set, refusing to ever wear camo or sweatpants, and still had never shot a gun - which her mother reminded her of weekly. 

Lizzy had hit puberty at 10 and had used her breast advantage over every girl in your class for the next 3 years like some sort of distinction of better genetics, as if she needed boobs to prove that. Unlike you, she was naturally thin and tall (6ft to be precise), had long, thick straight black hair and olive skin, and perfect hips. You felt like a prepubescent boy standing next to her, with your uneven complexion and your frizz and your awkward thigh fat distribution. You were envious of her genetics - her mother graced her with the body of an athlete and the thick black hair, and her father had given her height and cheekbones that could slice through glass. You looked down at your arms, covered in freckles, pasty white from lack of sun, and cringed, looking back at the road.

You turned the corner leaving the main road and starting on the dirt road that led to your favourite part of beach access. Lizzy pulled her hoodie out of her backpack and took off her seatbelt, leaning forward to pull it down over her head. You leaned forward and looked up, this was your favourite part of the drive. The dirt road which was lined with moss and ferns and other foliage wound along the base of the snow capped mountain that was at least 1000ft in elevation. The mist and fog from the coast was thick and creeped through the tall cedar trees, black ravens and falcons flying overhead stark against the white mist. This was the most idyllic picture of northwest coastal living you could find.

When you parked at the trail head Lizzy slipped off her work flats and into her Teva’s, you grabbed your yellow Vans out of your trunk and slipped them on. You usually drove bare foot, a habit you had started in high school after Rudy had thrown your shoes off the dock at the restaurant and you had to drive home without any. You grabbed your sweater and your backpack which had the beer in it. As you were both gathering the rest of your things...beach blanket, hats, and rain cover, you heard a car pull up behind you. You stood up out of the trunk and squinted to see the car through the fog. It was a black ford pickup you had never seen before. 

“Who’s that?” Lizzy chimed in from behind you.

“No clue” You said as you lifted your hand to wave once. 

The truck had tinted windows and looked brand new. When it pulled up beside you, the drivers side window began to unroll, revealing Junior - your high school (ex) sweetheart.

“Holy” You said, eyebrows up, nodding. “Nice truck - where’d you steal it from?” He rolled his eyes at you dramatically.

“Whatever kid - its a rental. Got it to drive to the airport in.” His chest puffed out and his expression read so proud. 

“Airport?” You said inquisitively. “Since when does Alan pay you to drive new trucks to the airport?” 

“Since Rudy hired him for the pick up service and apparently is incapable of driving his own ass around anymore” Junior snorted and waved at Lizzy.

“Or he doesn’t have a car here anymore” You noted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Either way, I get this bad boy for the next 24 hours and I intend to give her the royal grand tour of our humble town.” He ran his hand up and down the steering wheel, stroking the new leather. “Wanna go for a rip?” He said, winking. You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Well I do” Lizzy piped up from beside you, walking closer to the window. She smiled at Junior and began to put her hair in a pony tail. She nudged your arm as she began to walk to the passenger side door. “Come on, granny. Let’s go!”

She laughed as she climbed up into the truck, but you shook your head again.

“I’m good...you kids have fun. Say hi to Rudy for me” You said to Junior, who shrugged his head and muttered ‘definitely wont do that’ under his breath.

Lizzy blew a kiss at you and waved once before Junior put it in drive and started to go up the dirt road north of you. 

Junior and you had ended on okay terms, but he had concocted a theory that you had broken up with him because of another guy, and the unspoken suggestion was that that guy had been Rudy. Small town guys had a heck of a time with the idea of girls and guys just being friends. 

You sighed and watched as the truck disappeared around the corner, and turned back to your own car. You grabbed your backpack and slammed the trunk closed, walking down the path alone. You weren’t mad at Lizzy for going with him - she was flighty and bailed on you at the bar all the time - but you were mad the beer was going to go warm before you could drink it all. Not that you should even be drinking 6 beers alone by the water when you had to drive yourself home. Doubtful the 2 cops in this town would even be awake to see you though. Whatever.

You reached the end of the path and rounded the corner, revealing the coast line and the rocky beach. It was your favourite place to sit and think, sit and smoke, sit and be yourself. The beach curled in a U shape, giving you a private spot where the rest of the shoreline was blocked from view and all you could see was the ominous cedar forest that stretched up the mountain, the snow caps at the top, and the horizon over the cold pacific.

You had intended to share the joint you had in your pocket with Lizzie, but...well, her loss. You spread the blanket out on the softest patch of sand and rocks you could find (which still meant you were guaranteed to get at least 2 rocks in the ass) and placed your bag down, kicking off your sneakers. You took a deep breath for the first time in a few days and lit the joint, taking one long, deep inhale. You felt it tingle through your chest and your arms and legs almost immediately, relaxing you. Being here alone always sent you into a spiral of memories and thoughts that you worked hard during the day to suppress. Most insistent lately had been thoughts about your health problems. You called them ‘health problems’ but in reality it was just an eating disorder. You could go 2, sometimes 3 days without eating anything, and never felt hungry. It started after graduation.

You had lost weight, dramatically, going from a stable 120-125 to 95 at most and 90 at worst, in the span of a month. And for the next three years you had never gained it back, you had stayed at a relatively stable 95, which still left you looking sickly and too thin at 5’3”. Your frame wasn’t built for that kind of weight drop, you were Scottish and Cree, sprinkled with a little bit of German and Irish. A classic northwest cracker mix. You weren’t naturally small, you always had a bit of something to grab onto, but it was normal to your body, healthy. 

Some part of your brain knew that it had something to do with leaving school...and the pretence that came with that. The expectation...the responsibility. You were never that kind of person, and it never really bothered you, but suddenly it had. You never planned to go to University right away, but you had no back up plan. It wasn't something you and your friends really talked about. But suddenly Jacob had gotten into U of Washington, Dan had left to backpack Europe, and Rudy had not so graciously announced he was deferring his acceptance and scholarship to culinary school because he wanted to be an actor, and flew to LA the next month. You had been left behind, with Lizzy of all people, and it had hit you hard.

You looked around the beach, dragging on your joint quicker than normal, trying to knock the thoughts out of your head. An Eagle screeched above - scaring you - and you laid back on the blanket, closing your eyes. You needed to chill the hell out. This was the first time in a few weeks that you had gotten a night off from helping your dad with his guide business and you didn’t plan on wasting it riddling your brain with anxiety and worrying about your body.

You looked up at the sky and watched the mist and fog kiss the clouds, the sunset colours dancing across them. As it usually did, the rain had stopped just as the sun was going down, the clouds parting briefly and letting the smallest sliver of sunlight through, just enough to burn the grey light out of the sky and allow the pink and orange hues to fade along the horizon. You sat up and cracked a beer, enjoying the fresh smelling air and the rhythmic sound of the waves licking the shore line. 

Two beers in you had put on your jacket and placed your Bluetooth speaker next to you on the blanket, blasting a playlist that Rudy had made you for your graduation party.

Three beers in you took the jacket off, standing up and dancing by yourself on the beach to the music.

Four beers in you laid down on the blanket, balled your jacket up and used it as a pillow, and started looking for shapes in the stars.

Five beers in you fell sleep.

———

Many hours later, as the sun rose and was bright on the water and the early morning bird feed was in full swing overhead, you were drifting in and out of sleep to the squawking when a shadow came across your face, alerting you to groggily open your eyes.

“What’s up, Little Fern?” His voice had gotten deeper. Wait, what?

You opened your eyes and blinked, raising a hand to block the sun. There, in your very awake and very not dreaming state, was the unmistakable silhouette that you had spent the last 18 years dreaming about and 18 years being a friend to.

Rudy.

#rudy pankow #reader x rudy #depth over distance #nakedmossywrites #jj maybank #outer banks #obx

[aprils-arcadia]

By the River

Member: Shownu Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,9k Summary: You watch the sunrise from your favorite place in your hometown, when you are suddenly interrupted by a handsome stranger. 

She was sitting on the little concrete slope near the river. Once it was probably used to let boats into the water, but that had stopped even before she was born. Now it was just one of the nicest places to sit and think. With the river to her right and the embankment to her left she was surrounded by trees in this little nook.  

She used to come here quite often when she still lived nearby with her parents but by now she had moved into the city and the visits to her parents were less frequent than she was comfortable with. Work had taken up way too much of her life and driving home with public transport had always been a hassle. So over time the visits got rarer and rarer, making her miss this place and her parents even more. No matter where she went she always treasured this little fleck of earth in the town she grew up in and spent so many happy years of her childhood. Whenever she came back a smile always adorned her face no matter if it was snowing, bright sunshine, or raining like it just had a second ago.   

It had been a nice summer shower, washing away the dust and the dry heat. Unfortunately it was over before it even really began. Her clothes had already dried within the last few minutes but the remaining raindrops on the embankment still glistened in the now returned sun. 

This wasn’t a famous tourist spot or a hotspot of the local youth, no this was her secret spot. The spot she spent so many hours as a kid, talking to her friends or just being alone with her thoughts. In this little niche beside the river she had her privacy. If she wanted to cry nobody would notice and if she laughed nobody would care. 

It had been the right choice to take the week off, to get away from work and to spend her little vacation here, right where she would always belong. The week housesitting for her parents brought back so many memories, memories that were still ever present in the house itself, be it the old photobooks in her dad’s office or the big framed picture depicting all her family members, her uncles, her cousins and she herself: A young girl forced to wear a dress to look pretty but her hair the usual unkempt mess. She was sitting next to her mom and desperately tried to hide a patched-up finger behind her back but the white bandages still shone brightly next to her dark blue dress.

She stretched her arms into the air and a yawn escaped her mouth. It had been worth getting up at 5 a.m., seeing the sun rise over the horizon, colouring the sky in a bright orange was a sight that was worth every minute of lost sleep. She probably should go back to get ready for the day but not yet, instead she rolled her jacket into a little pillow and layed down on the hard concrete, the tiny stones hurting her back a little but not enough to make her want to leave. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. The earthy smell of petrichor and the fresh scent of the river filled her lungs and she smiled to herself. 

She truly loved this place. 

The sound of the steady waves lapping on to the shore whenever a boat went past, the screeching of the lone seagull that had made its way down south and the rustling of the wind in the leaves around her lulled her into a comfortable nothingness.

Her reverie was interrupted by an unfamiliar smell and the sound of the dry grass being crunched under someone’s feet. Lazily she opened her eyes only to look up at a young man around her age. 

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you.” He took a step back. “I'd better leave". 

"No worries." She sat up and turned around to look at him properly. He was wearing a pair of black running shorts and a black sleeveless top. His hair was disheveled and still wet either from the rain or from the sweat that was also running down his arms making them shimmer in the morning sun. “I wasn't really sleeping and I should probably leave soon anyway."

"I didn't mean to drive you away. It's not like I own the place." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled shyly. 

"True" she giggled. He looked kind and trusting. His eyes radiated a calm and warm aura that made her feel instantly comfortable around him. "Do you wanna sit down?"

"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind." He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, so that it no longer stuck to his forehead but now lay in strands. 

She scooted over and gestured at him to sit down. "Not at all. There’s plenty of room for the both of us." 

He sat down next to her, adjusting a bit so that their shoulders would be far enough apart.

"I'm sorry that this is gonna sound like one of those cheesy pick up lines but do you come here often?" A sweet laugh left her mouth, as warm as the summer sun. "Cheesy doesn't necessarily mean bad, I mean that one's a classic.” 

"No,” He corrected quickly “I just meant that I've never seen you around here." 

"I used to live here when I was younger,” She brushed off the sand from her calves and unfolded her little jacket pillow. “Now I'm just housesitting. What about you?" She looked into his eyes as if it was the most natural thing, somehow awkwardness never crossed her mind.

"I've discovered this place on one of my morning runs.” He leaned forward to tighten the knot on his bright blue sneakers. "And now I always stop by here each morning when I'm done."

"Commendable" 

"If you say so.” He smiled at her, his face losing all its rough features instantly. “I just really like this place.” His gaze wandered over to the water that was slowly receding only to be pushed back onto the shore. "It's nice to just sit, watch the waves and just be for a second."

"I agree.” she said. “Nobody really bothers you, well normally at least." She scrunched up her nose and they both laughed.   

“Yeah, sorry about that.” he apologized, still smiling brightly.

“Soo…” she leaned back examining his broad back and shoulders trying to read the letters that were printed on his shirt. “Sho-”

“-Shownu.” he finished. 

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Shownu? I mean there isn't really anything here.” Her hometown had always been a place for old people, sure they had an elementary school but that was about it. The local businesses were slowly moving to the city and apart from one big company, a few bakers and supermarkets it was pretty much just a residential area. No nightlife, on the contrary even, this neck of the woods still clung to their night and sunday rest rules so tightly that loud music after 10 p.m. could easily be answered by the old lady two houses over calling the police on you. The cinema in the nearest town had gone bankrupt and you had to drive half an hour by bus to even get to a decent clothing store. It was no wonder that everyone moved to the city when they finally got the chance.  

"Well, I got seconded here a few months back. I work over there.” He pointed to the big building visible on the horizon on the other side of the river. “I found a nice flat on this side so I just took it. The ferry isn’t that bad of a commute”

“I loved to ride the ferry as a kid.” She said enthusiastically, remembering all the times she went over to the other side to go to the beach or to walk around with her friends and their dogs.  

“Well it gets old rather quickly I can tell you. But the water and the fresh air is a nice wake up on an early morning.” He leaned back steading himself on his hands. 

“And how do you like it here so far?” she asked, playing around with the little blade of grass she had plucked to her right. 

“To be honest, in the beginning it was quite the change. I grew up in a big city and was always so used to the bustle on the streets and the huge amount of people. This is the complete opposite. I mean I once went a day without seeing another human soul on the streets. It had quite the apocalyptic vibe.” He laughed. 

“It probably just meant that the local football team was playing.” She shrugged. Those had been the best days, when almost everyone was out and no one roamed the streets anymore. As a child she used those days to play badminton in the streets with her brother or go for a walk without ever meeting anyone. It was a nice change of pace each time. 

“That makes sense. Anyway it’s actually really nice to live here.”

“Why is that? I mean I know my reason but I’d like to hear yours.” The blade of grass in her hand was now a tiny ball of knots. She put it down beside her and gave it a little flick, watching it roll down the concrete and into the water. 

“I think it’s quite idyllic. When I lived in the city everything seemed so cold, distant and impersonal. In comparison this place feels unbelievably warm. This is probably gonna sound stupid but it feels loved”

She didn’t answer. Instead she just looked at his profile, at the kindness in his eyes and let his words slowly sink in. This place feels loved. To hear someone else say this made her incredibly happy. 

“Sorry that was a bit weird.” he said sitting back up, looking at her. 

“No, not at all.” She let her head sink between her knees looking out onto the shoreline and the line of grasses which gently swayed in the wind.

“I’m really telling you everything here, huh” he chuckled a little shyly and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Sure seemed that way.” she smiled. 

“Must be this place, makes it way too easy to open up to a complete stranger. Well now you owe me one. What brought you back here?”

“Since we are already on the sappy side of things I can just hop onto the train.” She took a deep breath and sighed “I miss this place. It makes life seem so simple and easy. I can forget about work and the stress of the city when I come here.” She smiled, more to herself that to anybody and her eyes were clouded with nostalgia. “In the end it’s home, simple as that.” 

Without warning a loud ringing tone interrupted their conversation. “Oh sh*t.” Shownu got up, quickly turning off the alarm on his phone. “I’m sorry to just leave like this.”

“Nah it’s fine. Wouldn’t want you to be late for work. I better get going as well.” She got up and wrapped her jacket around her hips.

“Hope to see you again soon” he said and sprinted off. 

Me too, she thought. Maybe just now she found another reason to come back here more often. 

#mx #monstax #fanfiction #monstax fanfiction #shownu #son hyun-woo #shownu fluff #shownu x reader #aprils fanfiction #aprils arcadia

[inspired-by-the-music]

Baby Blue: Kun x Reader

Word Count: 1600

Genre: happy endings here (as usual)

Note: George Strait’s “Baby Blue” inspired me to write this! 10/10 would recommend!

“She always held it deep inside, but somehow I always knew she'd go away when the grass turned green and the sky turned baby blue."

Kun was not supposed to fall in love with you.

It happened all at once a few winters ago, when your family started to rent the house next door as a holiday getaway. After spending all morning shoveling the driveway, he was sent by his parents to invite your family to the New Year’s Eve party that doubled as his birthday celebration. Because it was so late notice— the party was to start at sundown that evening— the invitation was a mere courtesy, a way to welcome you to the neighborhood.

Kun didn’t expect you to answer the door with a bright smile, eagerly accepting the invitation. “I won’t have time to get you a gift,” you acknowledged while stealing a glance at your watch, “but I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

By no means did Kun consider himself shy, but he wasn’t one to flirt just after saying hello. He surprised himself by suggesting, “Maybe you could dance with me tonight.”

While he burned with embarrassment at his forwardness and shifted his gaze away from you, you laughed an airy sort of laugh that belonged in the Springtime— not in those Winter Mountains.

“Okay— you said your name is Kun, right?” Leaning against his shovel, he nodded, and you promised, “I’ll dance with you at your party, Kun.”

If Kun had to pinpoint the moment he fell in love, it wouldn’t be that first conversation that perhaps lit the smallest spark, even though it sent him walking from your door to his wearing a toothy grin that warranted curiosity from his parents. The moment— if there is only one— must have fallen somewhere around when he found you at the party requesting that the DJ play your favorite song. Your smile was polite yet sincere, and it grew wildly when you spotted Kun admiring you, as you dashed toward him.

As you looked up at him, your hair bangs fell back out of your face. “You didn’t forget my promise, did you?”

Kun shook his head. “How could I?” He bit down on his tongue before he could reveal that he had been looking forward to dancing with you all day— that he had been hoping to dance to a song just like the one you requested.

His face turned a blistering pink as you grabbed his hands and placed him around your waist, atop the silky fabric of your baby blue dress that didn’t quite match the party’s silver and midnight blue theme that decided his suit should be an almost-black blue.

“I’m not usually like this,” you mumbled as your hands met behind his neck, as if you owed him some kind of apology. “So forward, I mean. I’m usually . . . different.”

There was nothing wrong with being forward, Kun thought, but he nodded as if to accept your sort-of apology. “Maybe that’s part of the fun of being so far from home,” he thought out loud while swaying you in time with the music. “You get to be yourself— like, whoever you’re too afraid to be around people who know the other you.”

His forehead wrinkled, and just as he started to apologize for making no sense, you smiled. He forgot what he was going to say.

While those words emboldened you to be the brightest burst of color in his life, Kun knew they couldn’t quite apply to him. He always lived in that house in the mountains, and he still would after your family packed up and left. Had he been thinking clearly about the end, that knowledge that he couldn’t follow you would have kept him from allowing you to become the sun in that snowy landscape. Had he been thinking, he would have guarded his heart. You could have had your fun— staying up all night drinking hot chocolate, and making snowmen and snow angels, and having those all-day skiing lessons that included a lot more falling and laughing than actual skiing— but in a way that didn’t shape his identity. In a way that didn’t somehow change him until he couldn’t remember who he had been before he spent his hours with you.

But Kun didn’t think.

He didn’t realize how much of his heart you held until you carried it all the way back to your home (who knows how many) miles away. He didn’t realize how much he had come to admire your smiles and laughter until they didn’t accent his every day. He didn’t realize how many details of the day he saved for your conversations until, gradually, they stopped as you each became too busy with your individual lives to schedule calls or respond to texts.

He didn’t even realize how much he missed you until you appeared on his front porch on a winter morning to knock on his door and ask, face all rosy from the crisp, biting mountain air, “Are you having a party this year?” You must have run to his door straight out of your parents’ car— you were shivering, wearing a floral jacket that wasn’t nearly thick enough, hair tied up in a tropical braid.

Kun blinked at you, thinking only that this was how you really looked: sun-kissed and floral and warm and beautiful. He couldn’t speak. He only nodded.

You took advantage of the silence. “Can I dance with you again?”

He told himself not to imagine that you had also been dreaming about that dance all Spring, all Summer, all Autumn. This time was different from last time. Now that you stood before him, all he could see was the impending good-bye. All he knew was that the moments were already fleeting, and there wouldn’t be enough time, and there was no way to chase the seconds that had already passed. Not trusting himself to speak even if he could find his voice, he nodded again.

And so the cycle repeated for the next few winters, with Kun choking back his feelings because he knew you would leave once the snow stopped falling, because (if you loved him too) he didn’t want a long-distance relationship to limit your opportunities back home, because he thought you didn’t want your Winter life to seep into your Spring, Summer, and Autumn life. There were moments when his admiration was too overwhelming to conceal, so he would grab your hand when he taught you how to ice skate even though you didn’t need the support, he would hold you closer during his birthday dance, or he would drop a few tears during your goodbye before you had closed yourself into your parents’ car.

Generally, though, Kun had grown to be more appreciative of your time together because it was limited. He was as comfortable as he could have been with the lack of change until your sunny voice broke through the late-night winter chill to say, “I have to tell you something.”

Since you yanked him out of the party and onto the back balcony just after your dance, Kun assumed that your news was urgent. Good news is never urgent. “Okay,” he frowned and set his nervous energy toward tracing into the snow on the railing. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up to catch you glancing down at your silver wristwatch. “I have to get your reaction to this quickly. The clock strikes midnight in, like, two minutes.”

“What happens at midnight?” Kun tilted his head quizzically, forgetting in his panic that the global new year and his birthday started at the bell’s toll. Even as he facepalmed at his stupidity, heart fluttering at the sparkle of your smile, he didn’t understand why the conversation had to end before the start of the new year. He was too flustered to ask.

“Hey, stop that!” You pried your hands from his face. “I need to see your face when I tell you that I’ve been accepted to the university just a few miles away.”

“You— what?” His forehead wrinkled. As he tried to understand— you never talked about the future— his heart leaped to conclusions. “The university? You mean— the one I’m going to?” He pointed, “The one just seventeen miles east?”

As if you could see the school from where you stood, your gaze followed his gesture. “I mean, I’m not so sure about the direction, but—”

Kun didn’t mean to interrupt; he was too excited to control himself despite his efforts to suppress his hopes. “You’re not going back to your hometown?”

“No, I am.” You frowned to mirror his disappointment at your response, quick to explain, “I have to— at least until I graduate. I’ll be back in the Summer. Mom and Dad finally bought the house next door after I’ve been begging them for years— ”

Kun gasped and turned from the railing to fully face you. It was incomprehensible. Too good to be true. “So you’re going to be living here? With me?”

It wasn’t quite accurate, but you nodded enthusiastically anyway. You matched the excitement bubbling in his stomach by beaming, “Yeah! And maybe— maybe now—”

You were interrupted by booming cheers from the party and erupting fireworks overhead. You didn’t have to look down at your watch to know that midnight had arrived.

Emboldened by some invisible force just as he had been at your first meeting, Kun stepped closer. Catching you around the waist and, tracing his fingers along the baby blue fabric of your dress, he hummed, “Maybe now?” His head tilted to the side, and his lips pouted as he looked for you to finish your sentence.

“Maybe now—” you reddened under Kun’s stare. You squirmed under his touch so intensely that he would have considered you uncomfortable were it not for your blossoming smile— “we can be together.”

Although Kun had learned to become good at goodbye, now that he had what seemed like an invitation to kiss you, to call you his for more than just a Winter, he didn’t let the opportunity pass unseized or unappreciated.

#wayv drabbles #nct drabbles #kun drabbbles #wayv imagines #kun imagines

[bellafarella]

Begin Again

Summary: Patrick Brewer knew from a young age that he liked boys. Well, he liked one boy. His name is David Rose.

Notes: Saw a post on twitter and decided to write it. Hope you enjoy! 💖

Read here 

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Patrick Brewer knew from a young age that he liked boys. Well, he liked one boy. His name is David Rose. They first met in the first grade and became fast friends. They would always ask to have playdates where they would spend their time playing outside if it was nice but David didn’t really like the outdoors much so they would play inside with some video games – Patrick would let David win because he got so happy when he won. Patrick didn’t like to lose, but he liked how happy David got more than his own loss in the game. They would play with action figures and dolls. They would watch Disney movies together and sometimes they’d want movies that were too mature for their age but that only happened when Mrs. Rose fell asleep watching them and David would switch the channel to something else. 

David liked to have playdates at Patrick’s house because his parents were really nice and Mrs. Brewer always made the best snacks. She would give them healthy snacks too but she made cookies herself that always put a smile on David’s face. David didn’t usually smile all that much when they spent time at his house. He didn’t like that his parents were never home. He had Adelina, his nanny, she was really nice. David told Patrick that he loved her because she took care of him and made him feel better that he was always alone. David had a little sister but she was a baby when Patrick became friends with David. David loved his baby sister, he loved to touch her soft head and kiss her big cheeks. Sometimes when they would have playdates at David’s house they would just sit in her room and watch her sleep. Patrick didn’t mind. He liked to see David so happy and sitting there watching Alexis sleep made him happy. 

Five years later, in their last year of elementary school, Patrick started to realize how much he likes David, more than just his best friend. He knew when he was younger that he liked David, but he just never knew what any of it meant. Some of their other friends were getting girlfriends or boyfriends, and they started to learn about that stuff in school so it really made Patrick think. His mind immediately went to David when thinking about who he likes. His mind immediately went to David for anything. 

Christmas was coming up and Patrick knew that David didn’t always have the best time on the holiday. Patrick was never able to accept the invitation to come to his family’s parties because he spent the holiday with his own family – with aunts and uncles, and all his cousins. David didn’t like the parties because there were so many people around and they all were friends with his parents and he and Alexis just stayed together off in the corner not enjoying the night and when everybody finally left, his parents still didn’t pay attention to them. Christmas wasn’t a fun holiday for David like it was for Patrick so he wanted to get him a nice gift to hopefully make him feel better and special. Patrick went to the store after school with his mom and found a set of four silver rings while she was looking at the jewelry counter. The rings caught his eye right away. The woman told him that they were adjustable and can be kept for a lifetime. Patrick thought that they would look really good on David so he begged his mom to get them for him and take it out of his allowance. 

At the end of the school day, the last day before winter break, Patrick gave David the gift bag and told him, “Merry Christmas, David.”

David smiled so wide when he was handed the gift but then he pouted and said, “I didn’t get you anything though.”

“That’s okay, I don’t need anything,” Patrick told David. “Open it.”

David grinned and opened the gift. He found the four silver rings inside and when he looked back at Patrick it lasted a few seconds before he ran off. He was ultra-embarrassed. He saw the small pinkness to his cheeks before he ran off. Plus, he literally ran away from him. Patrick smiled and laughed to himself before heading out to meet his dad. 

Patrick’s parents teased – well, not so much teased but they talked about that moment a lot, of Patrick giving David the rings and him running off. They thought it was “very sweet” but all it did was make Patrick blush. He didn’t like to blush, he became all red when that happened.

Patrick didn’t see David until after the winter break. After Christmas, David and his family went on vacation so Patrick had to wait two weeks before seeing his best friend. When they got to school, David came to his locker and gave him a hug. Patrick asked him how his vacation was and that’s when he noticed David wearing the rings. Patrick couldn’t stop smiling, so much that David asked him, “What?” Patrick shrugged it off and said, “Nothing.” David had a small smile on his face, like he knew what Patrick was smiling about. 

Patrick found out that David wasn’t coming back to school next year. They had planned to be in high school together and protect each other. David’s parents had opportunities elsewhere so they moved away. They had one last summer together before David moved and Patrick never saw him again. They would write each other letters at first but then that stopped with life getting in the way, but there hasn’t been a day that Patrick hasn’t thought about David Rose, the first boy he ever liked. 

 Patrick’s been through a lot in the past fourteen years. He survived high school by dating a sweet girl named Rachel, she was his best friend. He told her that when he was younger he liked a boy. They thought that maybe it was just a phase. They dated throughout high school but Patrick didn’t feel right being with her. He told her the truth and they just remained friends. Patrick moved out of the small Canadian hometown to a bigger city for university. He finally finished and got a job working in a company in his hometown, where he can put his degree to work. 

It’s the night of his welcome home party. His friends that stuck around and some of his cousins decided to have a small get together at the local bar to celebrate Patrick being home again. 

Patrick’s so happy to see everyone. He hadn’t seen his friends since high school and only saw cousins for family events he came back home for. Even Rachel is here for him. He feels so overcome with emotion to see everybody he cares about here for him, celebrating his return. They’re ordering another few pitchers of beer for the tables when Patrick hears his name. He turns to the source and is shocked. “David?” He asks even though he knows it to be him. They haven’t seen each other in fourteen years but he’s kept up with him – well, as much as he could by way of the internet, and his family, they were very wealthy and then lost it all. They covered the tabloids for weeks. 

“Hi,” David says softly, just like he used to greet him every morning at school. 

Patrick grins and stands, pulling him into a hug. David hugs him back tightly, his big hands rubbing his upper back. “What are you doing here?” Patrick asks him when they pull apart from their long hug.

“I moved back a few weeks ago, well, we did - my family. Not like we really had a choice…” David trails off and looks away, embarrassed.

Patrick puts his hand on David’s bicep and squeezes. When David looks back at him Patrick says, “I heard what happened, I’m really sorry, but the upside…” David waves his hand in between them telling him to hurry up making Patrick chuckle. “The upside is, I just moved back also.”

David twists his mouth to the side, his cute little smile Patrick can’t help but grin at. “Is that so?” He asks.

Patrick nods and turns to see that his friends and family are watching them. He looks back at David and says, “Join us, please.”

“A friend is supposed to be here soon, is it cool if she joins too?” David asks. 

“Of course,” Patrick says. 

“Oh she’s here, just one sec,” David says before going to the door and informing his friend of their change in plans before heading back over. Patrick’s cousins move to let David sit next to Patrick and his friend next to David. David introduces Patrick to her, her name is Stevie and she runs the motel that David and his family are living in temporarily. Patrick likes her immediately, she’s funny and sarcastic - she’s a female David.

Patrick spends a lot of the next hour just watching David talk, the way he moves his hands as he speaks - he catches the sight of the rings he got him all those years ago still on his right hand. It makes Patrick grin and David asks him, “What?” so Patrick just says, “Nothing,” causing David to smile that sweet little smile just like that day all those years ago. David looks down at the rings on his hand and then back to Patrick who is still looking at his face. How could one man be so beautiful? David says to him, “I’ve really missed you, you know?”

“Really?” Patrick asks, a little shocked but very pleased.

“Are you surprised by that?” David asks him.

“You stopped reaching out and it’s been fourteen years since we last saw each other, David,” Patrick tells him, turning a bit more in his seat to face David.

David notices the change in his body language and does the same. He says, “You also stopped reaching out, but life… it got complicated. I wish we never moved. It - it’s been a rough fourteen years, Patrick.”

“You’re back now though,” Patrick says with a small smile, hopeful that this life can be better for David than the last fourteen years have been.

“So are you,” David says pushing at Patrick’s shoulder with his ring clad hand. 

One of Patrick’s cousins steals his attention, but only momentarily. His full attention can’t be on anyone else, not when David Rose is sitting right next to him laughing at his jokes, talking about the music he loves - Mariah Carey (he’ll get a pass for that), Tina Turner’s The Best is his favorite song and Patrick can’t stop smiling at him. “The lyrics! You have to listen to the lyrics!” David exclaims when saying why he loves the song so much. Patrick smiles and agrees with him, “It’s a beautiful song,” causing David to smile that sweet little smile directly at him.

Patrick Brewer is smitten.

It’s been a bit over a year and Patrick can’t believe his life. He’s spent the last year loving the man of his dreams, David Rose, opening their own store, Rose Apothecary, and moving into a great little apartment together.

Patrick takes David on a hike, one he used to do a lot during high school. He would think about his life and where he wants to go, who he wants to be. It’s only fitting he take the love of his life there to propose.

It wasn’t the easiest journey up to the top, David is still the same old David not liking the outdoors, there was a lot of complaining but they finally made it up.

“It’s beautiful,” David says overlooking the view. 

“Wouldn’t have brought you up here if the view wasn’t worth it,” Patrick tells him as he sits on a rock watching his beautiful view admire nature's beautiful view. David turns back to look at him just to stick his tongue out at him. 

Patrick laughs and goes about setting up. David helps him by laying out the blanket and finding the champagne. “Oooh la la,” He says before putting it down. Everything is out of the bags and on the picnic blanket so they have a seat. 

As David turns to look at the view again, Patrick gets the box out of the front pocket of his bag and gets on one knee. David turns his head back to look at him and gasps, “What’s going on?” he asks, filled with emotion.

“So I used to come on this hike a lot after you moved away. I’d come up here and think about my life - where I want to be, where I want to go, who I want to be, and most importantly, I thought about you, on every single one of my hikes. I thought about you for the past fourteen years, David, and when I saw you a little over a year ago standing there in front of me, after I had just moved back to town that day,” He stops overcome with his own emotion. “It was fate, David. We were meant to be together and we finally got put back into each other’s lives so we could be together. So… this felt like the only place for me to ask the love of my life if he will marry me?” He opens the box to reveal four gold rings, just like the four silver rings he gave him fourteen years ago.

David chokes back a sob, grinning from ear to ear. He asks, “Are you sure?”

Without hesitation Patrick says, “Easiest decision of my life.”

David nods his head and Patrick stands before helping David up who then pulls him into a hug, holding him tight. He pulls back to kiss Patrick on the lips before their crying stops them both. “Are these 14-karat?” David asks and Patrick looks at him blankly before David adds with a wave of his hand, “It’s a yes, I love you so much,” before kissing him again and hugging him tight.

They laugh and hold each other close before pulling away from the embrace. David looks at the four silver rings on his right hand and says to him, “You know, I’ve never taken these off. Well, only to shower and sleep, but I’ve worn them every single day since you gave them to me.” 

Patrick smiles at him. “You ran from me when I gave them to you,” He reminds him.

David laughs. “I did… I - I liked you so much and I didn’t know how to handle the emotions I felt when you gave them to me so I just ran,” David finally explains. 

“You’re not running now,” Patrick tells him.

David steps closer, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders as Patrick wraps his arms around David’s waist - a position they’ve come to love in the past year. He says softly, “I’m never running from you again, Patrick Brewer,” before kissing him just as softly on the lips.

Patrick holds him close and vows to never let him go again. 

#my fic #based off a post on twitter #for megan #david x patrick #david x patrick fan fic #david x patrick fan fiction #ao3 fic #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #also read on ao3 #sc au #sc fan fic #sc fanfic #david rose #patrick brewer #friends to lovers #childhood best friends #schitt's creek #schitts creek #not edited

[jamielea81]

Homecoming

A/N: This is for @xxloki81xx 200+ celebration. Congrats again love! This one shot was written with the above moodboard in mind. 

Description: You have dreamed of a life away from your hometown. After moving across the country for college, you realize that home is where you belong. 

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader  Various others x Reader (platonic)

Warning: Feels. A boyfriend getting handys, but nothing extreme.

Word count: 3,600+

Time is a funny thing. The years slipped by fast, but at the same time, they dragged on, as did you. It was time to admit defeat. Time to pick yourself up and accept the help that had been offered over and over again. You were never one to willing give up. Nor were you the one to easily accept that people loved you. That no matter what, you can’t push away family. Especially the ones that choose to be your family.

Milford Springs is where you were born and raised until you left the mid-sized town after high school. You studied hard, applied for every scholarship known in existence, and said goodbye to your mom, brother, and the friends you had known all your life. Including Steve.

Steve wasn’t always your friend and he wasn’t always the love of your life. All through elementary school and junior high, he was kind of your enemy, except, he didn’t know it. He was always on the small size, but his personality was big. Always getting into fights and preaching right from wrong. You hated that. Hated it because you weren’t perfect and he made you feel even worse. He was friends with your brother despite your brother being a year older than the two of you. Your brother was perfect, still is. The son that could do no wrong, your mother’s favorite even if she did deny it. The two of them always seemed to be on a crusade and didn’t want anything to do with the likes of you when they were together. You were the one getting into trouble in class for talking and gossiping. Natasha was the bad influence, although she always seemed to side step any punishments that were being handed out.

It was sophomore year in high school when you learned that you no longer despised Steve. Natasha and Bruce were on a double date with you and Brock. It was technically only your second date with Brock despite knowing him for the last few years and hanging out with him in group situations. After watching your football team lose horribly in their season opener, the four of you decided to grab a late night bite at Rosco’s Diner. It was always a popular spot, being located only a few blocks from your high school. Plus, they had great milkshakes.

Natasha and Bruce had just finished their burgers and were getting ready to leave.

“My dad changed my curfew, I’ve got to split,” Natasha said.

“Naaaattt,” you whined. “Don’t leave me.”

“Bruce has been keeping me out too late,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Dad’s been cracking down on me getting home before midnight on weekends.” She shrugs her shoulders and pushes Bruce out of the booth.

“Me? Keeping you out? I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Bruce said. He throws his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

They are so cute.

“Fine, fine. Go home. Call me tomorrow,” you grumbled.

Brock stuck out his hand and Bruce shook it. You and Brock chuckled as he was clearly going for a high five.

“Night guys,” Brock said.

Your milkshake arrived a few minutes later and you eagerly dug in, using the spoon because it was far too thick at that moment to drink with the straw.

“Slow down, babe. You don’t want to get a stomach,” he says, nudging your side with his elbow.

“Gee, thanks, Brock,” you sassed, taking another large spoonful of ice cream goodness. Brain freeze be damned!

You already weren’t the most confident person, but to hear the guy you’re interested in say that, it hurt.

When the inevitable brain freeze did happen, you pushed the glass away, to allow it to melt a bit. Brock put his arm over your shoulder and pulled you until you were snug against his side, kissing the top of your head. After his comment about your stomach, you weren’t into the affection he was offering. You attempted to pull away, but his firm grasp wasn’t leaving any room. He curved further into you where there was zero space. With his free hand, he cradled your chin and pulled it to him into a kiss. As soon as his lips touched yours, you moved your face away.

“Knock it off Brock, I’m not in the mood.”

It wasn’t your first kiss with him, no, he eagerly kissed you outside your house on your first date. That one had been exciting. Brock was a senior and pretty popular in school. The fact that he wanted to kiss you, just an average sophomore, set your world a blaze.

Ignoring your request, he leaned in further nuzzling your ear, keeping you close with his arm around your shoulder. You pulled your head to the side to get out of his reach, but that only gave him more access. With his free hand, he trailed his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt, skimming your stomach.

You slapped his hand away. “Stop. Brock, I said stop!”

With a little momentum, you were able to shove off of him and push him to the end of the bench.

Enter one, Steve Rogers.

“I think the lady said stop,” Steve said.

“Get out of here Rogers. Mind your business,” Brock snarled.

Brock had a few inches on Steve in both height and size, so it was a good thing Brock was still seated. Before Brock could utter another word, Steve socked him right in the nose. Blood trailed down his face. Brock grabbed napkins from the table and covered his face.

“You’re dead Rogers!” he roared.

Thinking fast, you grabbed your milkshake and dumped it on Brock’s head and then proceeded to push him out of the booth. Now the entire restaurant was watching with fellow classmates laughing.

“Were done!” he said, pointing a stiff finger at you. “And you’re still dead, Rogers.”

Brock stomps his way out of the restaurant and all you can do is laugh. Steve takes one look at you and changes his angry face to one with a smile. After your giggles subside, he holds his hand out for you to grab. You get to your feet and contemplate calling your brother for a ride. You don’t live far, but the thought of walking home alone is a little unsettling.

“How about I buy you another milkshake and then walk you home, doll?”

Heat instantly rises to your face and by the dopey look on his face, you know he can see it too. Rather than risk saying something stupid, you bite your lip and nod your head.

Over the next few weeks, you fell head over heels for Steve and he with you. Steve was your everything that year, your first make out, your first over the clothes touching, under the clothes touching, and the first person you had sex with.

The two of you waited until school was out for summer before taking that next step. You were going away at the end of June through the end of August to a math and science camp for elementary aged kids. Neither subject was your favorite, but you did well enough in both classes that you applied for the minimum wage job figuring it would look good on your college applications. As much as you loved Steve, you still wanted to get out of Milford Springs.

The time away was hard and you often spent hours at night crying because it was your decision to leave. Steve wrote you letters twice a week and you responded to every one of them. He told you about life at home. How your brother liked having his friend again and how Bucky often felt like the third wheel. He told you about Natasha and Bruce still being the old couple of the group and the new kids, Wanda and Pietro who had just moved to town. You missed home quiet a bit, but really you just missed him.

Coming home from camp was both a blessing and a little heartbreaking. You and your mom had never really gotten along. You often blamed yourself as the reason why your dad left. You had heard from other relatives by accident that your parents wanted to wait a few years to have another child after your brother was born. And while it wasn’t your fault you existed, you still felt like it was. Your brother had talked about what a great summer he had and how light hearted your mother had been. Except now that you were home, you couldn’t help but notice her sullen mood. Money had always been hard growing up, and you supposed having only one other mouth to feed over the summer had helped that burden. Now here you were in need of new clothes and spending money for school. You did what you could to help that burden by often eating at friend’s houses, working as much as you could by babysitting in junior high, getting a job at the diner shortly after turning sixteen, and the summer camp this summer.

Shortly after junior year had started, you quickly became friends with both Wanda and Pietro. Wanda easily fit in with you and Natasha. The three of you going to each other’s houses when the boys were together. Much to Steve’s dismay, Pietro often joined the three of you. You had assured Steve that there were no feelings there and that it was probably a twin thing that made Pietro want to hangout with the three of you.

The diner was only able to give you hours twice a week, three times if you were lucky. The lack of hours allowed you to spend time with Steve as well as your group of friends that was ever expanding. It seemed to always be you, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, Pietro, and Maria hanging out for hours in someone’s backyard after school. Sometimes your brother would join your group, but being a senior this year, he often spent time with his own friends.

Your rather large group of friends had been through a lot together. Wanda and Pietro’s parents divorced in the middle of junior year and there was a time they were worried about being split up with each living with one parent. That didn’t happen, but that fear lasted almost a year while the divorce was in process, especially when their mom moved thirty miles away. Maria and Sam got together at the end of junior year and were off and on all summer. It often split the group during their off time, but it never had a lasting effect. By the time classes were back in session, they were friends again and it stayed that way. Natasha and Bruce broke up for a very long four month period senior year, only to get back together right before graduation.  

Through all the ups and downs of those formative high school years, Steve was your constant. The two of you had several deep conversations in the months leading up to graduation. You had gotten a few scholarships that would cover most of your college years, but they would bring you to California. Steve was joining the Army and would be starting basic training in June. The two of you were going your separate ways. There were no promises of writing or calling. There were no hopes shared of being together over summers or even when college was done. You loved each other and didn’t want to break each other’s hearts if those promises weren’t kept. The night before he left, he spent the night in your room. The two of you making love, holding each other, sharing memories, and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

You were flying out to California with nothing more than two suitcases of clothes. You planned to find a Target or Walmart when you got there to purchase bedding and things like shampoo and body wash. Most of the money you saved was used for your airline ticket as well as transportation to your university. Of course, you had additional funds to help with the cost of food and things you would need throughout the year. You planned on getting a job on campus to keep that savings fund going. You and the girls spent the weekend together at Natasha’s house pigging out on pizza and popcorn. They talked about flying out to the West Coast in search of movie stars and a nice tan, but you didn’t get your hopes up. All of them were staying in your home town, a few going to the nearby state college or community college in town. It was expensive to fly across the country and the fact that you would have a roommate meant they wouldn’t be able to stay with you.

Sam drove you to the airport. The two of you had become close over the last year and he was the first to volunteer. He knew that Steve wouldn’t be in town and he wanted to make sure you had someone strong to say goodbye to. While you were happy that your goal of going to college out of state and somewhere warmer was coming true, you cried. You were never more thankful that Sam Wilson was there to hold you together and tell you to wipe your nose before going to the check-in counter.

During your junior year of college your brother had called you late in the night. His voice quivered and he could barely make it through the call. Your mom had passed away in the middle of the night. The doctors said it was a heart attack. You were numb.

You found a cheap flight, a middle seat, for the next night. You e-mailed all of your professors to explain why you would be missing class for a week and a half and they understood, promising to e-mail you assignments and send you notes.

You didn’t cry when your brother picked you up from the airport, nor did you cry when you went to your childhood home to clean it out. Your mom had been renting it for years and although the landlord understood, he needed to put the place back on the market within a month. Most items were bagged up for trash and a few boxed up for your brother to store in his garage until you could retrieve them.

The nights leading up to the funeral were spent thinking about your mom. How you wished that you and her could have been closer. How you wished you would have told her you loved her more. How you wished that you would have listened to her when she begged you to come home the last three Christmases and summers. But still no tears.

The day before the funeral, Natasha had stormed into the house. Fiery red hair pulled back into a messy bun, eye makeup smudge. She was upset that you hadn’t called her when you got to town. Rightfully so as she had left you numerous messages, but you just couldn’t return them. Despite her anger, she took one look at you and wrapped her arms around you. It was only then that the emotion you held inside was released. A sob broke from your body that you didn’t even recognize the sound of. But it was you. She held you in her arms and encouraged you to cry, telling you that she would yell at you later, but now wasn’t the time.

The rest of the gang funneled in throughout the day bringing pizza and beer. Well, everyone but Steve. Wanda told you he was in town on leave, but he had a girlfriend now and figured it wasn’t right to stop by. Your heart of crushed. You knew he would eventually move on, the two of you making no promises of waiting. Even you had dated over the last three years. Nothing serious, but there had been a few men that had kept you company from time to time. But he didn’t come.

With Bucky’s well-placed threats, Steve did show up to the funeral, sans girlfriend. He didn’t speak to you before the service, but pulled you into a hug at the small reception after. Steve Rogers had changed. He was taller than you remembered and certainly had gained pounds of muscle. But those blue eyes were the same and it took everything in you not to breakdown at the sight of them. With soft spoken words of “I’m sorry”, followed by whispers of “I miss you”, you pulled away from him offering nothing but a thank you and a tight smile.

Back in California you finished out your junior and senior year with a few more phone calls to Natasha and some of the gang, but you were still distant. You didn’t hear from Steve again, but you also didn’t reach out. He had a girlfriend. Contacting him would only break your heart more.

After graduation, you accepted a job at an advertising firm. It’s what you’ve always dreamed of. You and Natasha would spend hours talking about what you’d be when you grew up and now that you finally had, you felt like you had no one to share that with. Even though the two of you still spoke, it had become harder to connect. She had a job of her own as well as Bruce.

The job you accepted was for an assistant with promises of a quick promotion of having your own accounts and working directly with a team. The first year you took in stride. Most of your days were spent on errands, proof reading, and making appointments. The job paid the bills and then some, but it wasn’t fulfilling.

One year turned into two and it wasn’t getting any better. You knew you were stuck, but you didn’t know how to get out.

Over those first couple of years, Natasha and Bruce got married but you couldn’t getaway from work to make it back to the East Coast. Part of you knew you didn’t try hard enough. Wanda had gotten married to Sam Wilson of all people, but you missed that wedding too. Bucky had a baby boy with a girlfriend he started seeing shortly after your mom had passed. You always sent a card and gift for these life moments, but it wasn’t enough. You missed your family.

When the third year of being a glorified assistant at the advertising firm was more than half over, you had enough. You called your brother who was still as painfully single as yourself and asked if you could come home. He called you stupid for even asking and told you to get your butt home. Lucky for you, your landlord agreed to let you out of your lease.

Giving your two weeks’ notice never felt so satisfying. You sold your furniture and boxed up the items you wanted to keep to have them shipped to your brother’s house. It took you seven days to drive home, stopping when you were tired or just needed a break from the road. You didn’t tell anyone you were coming back, mostly embarrassed that you failed in your endeavors. But you should have known your brother wasn’t quite so secretive.

You called him when you were a few hours away to make sure he’d be home because all you wanted to do was sleep in his spare room. Pulling into his driveway, you were suspicious to see so many cars in the driveway and along the street in front of his house. Grabbing just your backpack, figuring you could grab the rest of your stuff later, you made your way up the walk and knocked on the door. The door opened quickly and you were pulled in by the petite redhead with a swollen belly rather than the lanky arms of your brother.

“What?!” you screeched.

“I could say the same for you. Maybe call me back a little more.”

You bashfully nodded your head and wrapped your arms around her.

“I’m glad you’re home. Couldn’t have you being out of state when your God Daughter is born.”

And just like that, you were crying. “Are you sure?” you sobbed, still embraced in a hug.

She pulled back and looked you in the eyes. “You’re family and we’re glad your home.”

Natasha smacked your butt and you yelped, proceeding to climb the stairs.

Everyone was in the living room with a few in the kitchen. You were passed from Bucky, to Wanda, to Maria, to Bruce, to Pietro, to your brother who took your bag, to Sam who held on to you a bit longer than the rest. When you tried to pull away for the 3rd time, he stopped you, and leaned into your ear.

“Steve’s here. He’s in the kitchen.”

Your heart stopped and you couldn’t speak. You shook your head no and tried to figure out if you could escape to your new room without him seeing you.

“He broke up with that girlfriend shortly after your mom’s funeral. I don’t think he’s been with anyone serious since. You should talk to him.”

“Sam, I don’t know,” you replied, shaking your head again.

“Even if nothing comes of this, your both family and I want my family to be able to be in the same room.”

You sighed and nodded. He was right. Sam squeezed your shoulder as you made your way into the kitchen. Steve sat at the island with a beer bottle in his hand.

“Hey,” you said.

He quickly lifted his head, bright eyes on display and a dopey grin. You missed him so much.

“Where’ve you been? Feel like you’ve been away too long,” he teases.

Steve stands and takes the three steps it takes to get to you. Hesitantly you reach for him and it takes him no time to accept your embrace. You pull back with your arms still on his waist.

“You know, I think I’ve found my way home.”

Forevers tag: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @mywinterwolf @ab-baybay  @rda1989

#xxlokixx200celebration #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #marvel au #marvel imagine #Avengers #avengers au #natasha romanoff #wanda maximov #sam wilson #bucky barnes

[yeswritingsandwritings]

COVID Diaries; Pennies

It is March 2020 and I’ve channeled the spirit of Paul Revere. As Los Angeles erupts into rioting and mass fentanyl suicide, I dive headfirst into the cabin of the Mazda, and gun the packed ship upwards along the vacant I5 corridor. Every smouldering city under Gavin Newsom looks further gone than the last. The navigation takes me on some perverse fantasy detour thru post-apocalyptic San Francisco. It’s been a long time coming but now it’s solidified. The mayor and her delegates have chomped their cyanide pills and now the streets and bridges offer rotting cars beside silent, beautiful Victorian manors. Still in full color, the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, gleaming indifferently. I am nervous about San Franscisco County. The shelter in place order says no one shall be out on the street without proper reason. And, proper reason or not, I have a pharmacy of drugs in the trunk of my car. Will it be enough to wait out the pandemic in my mother’s house? Enough to keep me sane tucked in the basement of the compound on Cougar Mountain, Issaquah, Washington, for GodKnowsHowLong? My very own Bavarian Alps.

For years in LA I have lived for high speed and hard sex in a blackout frenzy which no young American could denigrate without looking like a nerd. In our culture of excess I sought the most insane, unexplored corridors. Chavionistic romps through the bitter forests of lust, contamination, too-young suicide, too-good blowjobs that leave explosions on this cast of characters flown from every corner of the globe, all with the same indelible fever. I come to now, in this chaotic month handed down by God, March 2020, and I’m withdrawing from all of it in the penthouse on the side of the mountain.

In this moment the fantasy is fading fast, like being jolted from a wet dream by a home invasion. For a lot of people the American dream was already a flickering ember in the distance, a relic of some stupid pilgrimgrage for egoic glory, a blind propaganda puzzle piece with no jigsaw to belong to. But I had formed my own relationship with the concept, and, until now, had believed wholeheartedly in the myth in America; or at least that myth’s capacity to spur significant action, which could abolish hunger and pain, mistreatment and misunderstanding, which could deliver us from evil and unto the kingdom of heaven.

I am not, to many of her 300 million pairs of eyes, a portrait of traditional American success. I am the starving artist archetype. I’ve lived in abandoned buildings and shot cocaine into my veins in the speeding bathroom of many an Amtrak carriage. These may be my most definitive traits, save for the music I somehow manage to draw out of all of this. Albums worth of potential answers to the impossible questions. Sometimes I think I’ve reached the peak, with the LSD and the naked festival girls. I am 26 years old and feel incompetent. I go to pay a traffic ticket or am electric bill and find myself paralyzed at the entrance to the website. In a moment of otherworldly strength I call the bank and my debit card has been cancelled. I stare at the parking ticket in my pod, which has been rented from a company called Up(Start), and is arranged in a row with twenty others. At least I’ve made it to Los Angeles.

Up(Start) is a strange place. I find most people don’t last very long in this community. They leave back to their hometowns or find apartments. The ones who stay haunt this place like ghosts, with no discernible goals and mysterious incomes. I’ve learned not to ask how these life-longers pay the rent. The answer is not translatable.

Willow is one of these life-longers. She always talks about moving out; sometimes to an apartment in LA, most recently about some nebulous palace in France. She says her grandmother died and left her everything. She shows me a suitcase full of watches and rings that still can’t fully convince me of her story. She drinks vodka when she wakes up and convinces me to fuck her when Jesse leaves us in his room alone.

Jesse found his way out to a beautiful house in Silver Lake. He had been at Up(Start) for a year before that. He is the nicest guy I know, offering the coat off his back for nothing but a swig of your vodka in return.

I left these characters behind, keeping a steady 65 on the interstate and stopping only to black out in a hotel room in Redding, CA. Summer, inspirational barista and blowjob queen, dared me to stop and see her in Portland, but my body was crawling from scabies from Lucy, (who was also in Portland and, I would later learn, infected with the virus) and I sped right through.

My younger brother Jon was at the house and had been awaiting my arrival. I instantly understood why. My mother had become a figurehead for the national panic, and shoulder-hugged me with her mask on. She is, as we speak, sterilizing the place.

I’ve gotten to spend a good amount of time with Jon, and am somewhat surprised to find that he faces the same existential torment as I do. This is not something we talk about, but I can feel it on him. He is super into Xanax, and orders pressed bars off the darknet. I share the drugs I’ve brought with him. Kratom, weed, and, —most enticing— Flubromazolam. I learn that he has been kicked out of UW on academic probation. I ask him about it in front of my mother and stepdad. With a casualness that shocks me he says he just didn’t care about any of his classes. But he’s got reaccepted to the school and he says he’s going to make it this time.

I show him how I order my drugs online. I show him the designer benzodiazepines on the clearnet, pennies per dose. We place an order for O-DSMT. It’s an insane solution to our problems, but I guarantee you it works.

I tell Jon about my life in LA with the stuff. Taking it and driving weed deliveries all day. I don’t tell him about the long nights with Lucy, telling her the love I feel from the opiate is sourced from her, then failing to get hard.

Jon, for his part, tells me about the peak of his Oxycontin habit, poppin 7 OC30’s a day with his buddies at Rolling Loud. I was just a few blocks away. I didn’t know he was in town.

We order the O-DSMT to his apartment in the U District, stopping to and snag it on our sole vacation to Dad’s for dinner. Two packages have been delivered. We have the save pavlov response. We carry the packages to his apartment on the top floor and split the bubble wrap with a butterfly knife. Out of a manilla envelope comes 100 green Xanax bars. From a bent UPS envelope comes a gram of O-DSMT and 250mg of 4-ACO-DMT, a bonus for me (Jon says he hates psychedelics).

We set to the scale and split the gram, dosing 50mg then and there to get through dinner. The next day he visits me in the basement, saying “Yo, this O-DSMT shit… it’s dope.”

I say “I’m with you.”

My days are spent deep in the dream flow, recording songs for a hopeful fourth album. The third one is still far from complete, but I can’t go back and meddle with those songs now. Wouldn’t dare touch their Los Angeles essence with the hand of the evergreen state. They will go to Rob and Twon and Andy as they are.

I’m back to guitars for the new album. Cardinal sin AC/DC type songs. I think it may be a double album, quarantine permitting. I want an exploratory, unstructured, throw paint at the wall and see what sticks, White album/Life of Pablo situation. I want solo piano pieces and Aphex Twin-esque 808 excursions. I want the label to release it on white vinyl with extensive liner notes. Indulgence. I want this album to be the one where I say “indulge me.”

If Rob is vehimently opposed to the idea I had the fantasy of making an easy album. Taking songs like Parade Owl, See You Tomorrow, Miss Can’t Sleep and putting out a whole album of them. Good rock music. Take a step back from the frontlines; the cutting edge. We’ll see what sticks to the wall after this quarantine is over.

Weeks drift by. There’s a trade route for all the beer that gets brought into the house. It goes from the garage fridge to the basement fridge to my eager hand, to my mouth, to my blood. Night by night the ritual recurs, til my mom takes out the downstairs trash and finds all the empties. She makes some subtle comment. I tell her to buy more White Claw.

Despite the drug flow my inspiration seems to be drying up. Rob took a listen to the twenty five songs I’d completed since arriving in Issaquah and said they sounded like Dogs. The old band. The old rock and roll band we’ve been trying to move away from. I was disappointed to hear him say it. I was disappointed he wasn’t excited about the songs. “Fuck it, should I scrap them all?” I asked myself. Then I started to look around the house and understand that if nothing came of these songs… I must be insane. I must be losing it. The stupid research chemical stimulants don’t help. I thought they would. Productivity and all… but I’m just jittery, texting strangers on Instagram for hours, all the while feeling like I should be doing something else. And the television is on in the background, and I told myself I was going to do so much to day. And I did it. And people on Instagram say “you seem busy.” They’ve always said I seem this and I seem that. I never agreed with any of it, but they probably know me better than I do. How could I see myself? I look for myself through a fog and it’s only a ripple of a shadow. A microcosm a million miles away through a hellscape with no up or down, no east or west. They say I’m social. They say I’m a socialite. Really I just get drunk and unleash all my nervous energy on the party or, nowadays, the Zoom meeting.

Today I drink Modello. Ma and Chuck went to the Seattle waterfront for a picnic or something. I didn’t get the details. But the sun should be going down now, and she’s texting me asking if I want to play a board game when they get back. I say yeah sure I do. My temper when I’m off these amphetamines analogues, though… I worry I’ll flip the Pictionary board. Slam dunk the wine glass onto the wood floor. Now the cliffhanger; will this Modello calm my nerves?

This morning I went with mom to buy plants for the garden. I thought we were going to get seeds but she wanted the already grown ones. She was ready to be angry. Nothing made her happy. We went to three different garden store. I think she got some tomatos. How the hell am I going to get out of this one? Feels like the walls are closing in. I feel like I’m in the freezer in the back of McDonalds. I feel so sad for her, but I also feel so sad for myself. I feel cut off. I feel short of breath. I feel terror. It is Friday, April 17, 2020. Dread, terror, paranoia… I’m sure it’s been felt a million times by a million people, but here’s my version of it. In this McMansion on the side of the mountain, feeling less like I have a mission than ever. Calling nobody. Freezing. Yeah I’m freezing.

My brother and I both have drugs to get through this crisis but I’m planning to get off them. I sold him half of my etizolam and half of another shipment of O-DSMT the other day. He wasn’t at all interested in the 2-FDCK, an analogue of the dissociative Ketamine. I am still not really sure what dissociatives do to consciousness. They can move you into states profound darkness. You feel like your life is a black and white film and it is raining outside. And it drips off the palm trees and you sit in traffic on the way back from the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, where the boys and girls wouldn’t listen, they’d just go off into their own worlds. I wonder how they’re all doing now, tucked into their parents houses in Calabasas.

Anyway, I said to Jon “I’m getting off the stuff.” And I intended to. This journal finds me at a crossroads between fantasy and reality. What is my life going to be for? Where do I cast this fishing pole? Well the pole’s been cast. It’s out there in the middle of the ocean. But at the same time it’s in my hand, in this very moment, and I can chose where to dip it. I’m not trying to catch a fish in this scenario, I just like the serenity of the bay.

The question on everyone’s mind is: “If not drugs, then what!?” That’s a great question and I’d be bullshitting if I said I could answer it. I don’t know what lies on the other side of this life. I want to find out. Do I truly? I have to truly. Love, sex, work, victory… I’ve seen all these things before. And I keep turning to these substances. They fill up my days and my hours and all the music is informed by them. They move my hands to play the guitar and my voice is scratchy when it comes out. I’ve formed an identity around these drugs to a certain extent. That idea of me has to die. It does. I’ll have to mourn it. I’ll have to mourn a lot. I guess I don’t know what to be afraid of. I know a lot of stuff is going to come up through this process. The drugs numb it all out. People say that but it’s really really true. Bad news doesn’t don’t hit you as hard. Most things don’t hit you at all. You’re in your world. You’re off in a cloud. You’re unaware of the world around you. You’re afraid to engage. Why?

It’s easier not to ask why. It’s easier to get the immediate relief of a squirt of etizolam tincture. Or a gross tossing of O-DSMT powder into your mouth and a quick washdown with water. In this way you don’t have to answer any questions. In this way nothing hits you. And guess what else? All your heroes did the same thing.

But a lot of them died doing it. And you don’t want to die. You really really don’t want to die. You want to live a long life, with kids and grandkids, and see what happens to America and what music turns into. You don’t want to die, but what do you have to live for? You know you can make things up. Everyone’s always making shit up. All of this is made up. The culture, the value of a dollar, the value of a Benz. We just decide on it. And that takes a lot. But you know what takes a lot less? Deciding how you want to react to each moment. This one and this one and this one. Do you know what I mean? They say a lot of stuff about the world. The world’s fucked. They say the world’s burning to the ground. They say we can’t leave our houses. They say America won’t be a super power by the end of all of this. But they’re making shit up. And I’m making shit up too. I’m whipping up like a chef. Throwing dishes out from the kitchen, but the dishes are words and actions and the kitchen is my mind. What kind of food am I throwing out? What kind of food am I serving the world? Let me serve love and hope. But for that to happen, let me cultivate it in myself first. Let me nurture it like a child. Let me see it sober. Let me take the steps in the right direction. It’s simple. It’s simpler than you think it is. What are you going to do right now, after reading this? Or while reading this? How are you going to face the world?

Jon told me he got into Xanax from the Famous Dex song “Japan.”

“Baby girl, what you doing, where your man? I just popped a xan, fifty thousand in Japan”

He told me his friends heard the song and picked up some Xanax because of it. They liked it and reached out to him “You’ve got to try this,” they said. My little brother, in the throes of this batshit demon force that will bury him. It might bury me too. The jury’s still out. Mom, just let me withdraw in peace. She brings down a space heater. I grow to love it. I lay down on the wood floor that the spiders sometimes dash across. The space heater comes close to burning me, but I’m ok. I stand up, dizzy from all I’ve done to try to combat the withdrawls. Way too much etizolam, way to much kratom, getting to the point of way too much weed and alcohol. But hopefully it’ll all be over soon, and I can call my friends in peace and not want to slam down the phone whenever there is the tiny threat of silence, or whenever I speak, or whenever they speak. I can’t any of it sober, that’s what I think. Life is hard sober; it’s a breeze when you’re floating thru it. A good dream. So why get sober? They say it’ll kill me. Well, I said that. In this very same paragraph. And maybe it will. But when you’re withdrawing like this… all you want is a moment of peace.

Oh God, at dinner tonight I started to go off about my own mental state to the family. I should have known it was a big mistaken, but on my way home from Doordashing a rainy Issaquah I stopped at QFC and got a bottle of True Eagle American Spirits, Kentucky manufactured vodka. And, helping myself to serving of kimchi,  I said to them “I think I’m losing it.” And the conversation spiraled until my mother asked me “Are you suicidal?” And “Are you struggling with drugs?” Jon, between us, must have felt betrayed, but I just wanted to feel understood. I feel Chuck does not want to understand. I understand what he’s sacrificed for the life he has, but what value does that life has to him? He has a tumor in his jawbone, and it’s eating away at him, and no one can do anything. And they can’t get out to the specialists on the East Coast, and they won’t do the invasive surgery. He’s too busy. I know, in some capacity, he understands. Because he blows these things off like they don’t matter at all, when anyday he could have a stroke like Grandma had, fall to the floor of the kitchen while dishing up his kimchi, or pulling a slice of pizza out of the carton. I feel the same way. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I know that I am mentally unwell. And I avoid the questions about my drug use and about my suicidality. I miss girls, ma. I miss pussy and parties and not giving a fuck. The way I don’t give a fuck now is in these terrifying sound collages drafted on the latest of nights, in the deep dark depths of quaratine. What was I saying in the last one? Something about how I didn’t wanna kill the crabs on the beach on Whidbey Island as a kid. Holy shit I’m losing my mind. But it’s all fine, isn’t it? As long as the music comes out fine.

What could I possibly do to get healthy? I feel so far off the deep end. You have no idea; I feel like crying. My best friend, living with the girl I thought I could always go back to. We don’t talk. I mix these ketamine analogues in with that cheap cheap vodka (plus etizolam) and cry tears onto this plastic table. It’s pointless to keep up the tinder courtships. I feel like this will never end. And it started with such a bang. I was such a part of history. Now I’m a nobody; I’m a junkie, holding on by the thinnest thread. No energy to pray. I feel like Cobain, and I know so many people do… but I really do. I can only imagine. But I’m only listening to Mingus, Lana Del Rey and Radiohead (Kid A thru Hail to The Thief).

Should I throw weed in the mix? Lord knows I have enough of it. It’s my number one priority. I’ve made enough songs now that we could workshop what I’ve come up with years. What else is there to do? Mingus ripped the piano strings out of some pianist’s instrument in front of a live audience, then stormed off the stage. Where the fuck is that in my life? I’m in front of the computer, weeping because America has come to a close. You know they sent jazz to the Soviet Union as a WEAPON? A weapon of freedom and democracy and individualism. What the fuck happened? It all makes me want to cry. It’s all too much; this world. These people I’ve known and loved and lost. This music I’ve made that they promise me will be something, but I don’t know if I believe them. I don’t know if I want anything to do with this life. I can’t engage with my culture anymore… my history. I feel like I’m not a part of it. I feel so disconnected. Who’s rippin the strings out of MY piano? Or who’s piano am I ripping the strings out of? We’ve lost so much… I mean… I’ll do my best to work with what we still have, but we’ve been so fractured. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the end. Of America. Of our culture. Of our music and our hustle and bustle and industry and lover’s lanes and rites of passage. I feel like I’m mourning it now. Mourning my culture. Maybe mourning the illusion that was sold to us. Believe me, I was first in line to buy. That’s why it destroys me so deeply to see it collapse.

I guess we’re all one people. I’m crying writing this. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Grieving. You know what grieving is. I remember what’s-her-name in the pool. We went to every hot tub, each a different temperature, in the Desert Hot Springs Resort. Then Lucy’s friend’s new boyfriend told us Bernie Sanders had stayed there when he had visited DHS. I laughed so hard. Lucy ordered me another drink. She didn’t mind the cost. She liked me to be on her level. And I didn’t mind. I was proud to sip. We went back to the hotel and did god knows what. Feels a million lifetimes away.

This was back when anything could happen. When America was a blank slate and no one could predict anything. When you could go outside and say “What the fuck is up?” and get in adventures. I mourn the loss of that. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe that’s still there. But I’ve emotionally severed my ties to it. And I wish I didn’t. Because I love it. I love it so much. It’s not a myth. I swear to god it’s not a myrh. It was a reality… until all this happened. You have no idea. I mean, if you’re reading this and weren’t around before. You have no idea. I mean… I don’t know what things are going to be like after this. But not the same. There’s no way they could be the same.

You know I hope I get this shit. I hope I contract COVID-19. Lay in this guest bedroom bed with the scabies I may or may not have gotten from Upstart Creative Living… and which wouldn’t die off. I hope I can’t breathe. I hope I’m immune. I want to walk the world. Maybe I should go out, get it, isolate, heal, be immune… if that’s even possible. At this point we don’t even know if immunity is a thing that happens with COVID. But even if I could walk the earth without fear of it… everyone else is cowering, and they pull away from, seeing I’m not wearing a mask or gloves, or even if I am… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would all end this way. I would have done so much more. Focused so much more on each kiss. Even every note. I did my best, I guess. It feels like it’s all coming to an end. It’s Thursday, April 23, but that doesn’t mean anything. You have to understand how little dates mean in this time. It’s like we’re living in one of those time capsules buried beneath the walkway at WWU. Stagnant… yeah we write songs and poems and do our work and keep the economy from faltering completely… but there’s a different angle to look at it all now. The world is over. I mean, aha, to use the words of Rem… “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.” Key words: “As we know it.” I had no idea this would happen in my lifetime… I couldn’t even conceive it. If you would have told me this would have happened six months ago I wouldn’t have believed it. America seemed so stable. And now it feels like it’s in shambles. It really did feel stable. You may think I’m insane for saying America in September, 2019 seemed stable… but shit, we were free. And we were headed where we were headed. This throws a wrench in all of this. And it could be the end. And I thought this was the greatest country on earth. Happiness is a buttery, try to catch it like every night.

I’ve been fascinated in American history since I could understand it. Most specifically, I’ve been fascinated about how history is still happening. The closer you get you the current day, the harder it is to get a straight story. FDR did what he did and we won. That’s fact. That’s cement. Nixon? Everyone agrees he was a crook. But what about Reagan? What about Bush Sr? What about Clinton? The closer you get to the modern day, the more difficult it becomes to discern what is real and what is fake.

[ellixthea]

Unpredictable Part 1

A/N: Hi guys! I’m finally posting the first part! I hope you’ll like it! To be honest I’m really excited about this series ahah. Btw this part is quite long because i needed to settle the story for some reason so don’t worry if you only see mgk appears towards the end. He will definitely be a lot more present in the next parts 😉

“You can put your pen down. It’s over.” Your teacher told you. You did what you were told and gave a finally look at your paper before handing it. You were done with exams and school, at least for that year. You would get the result in a month and so you would know if you would be able to do your third year in university. You were still surprised how far you had come but you were quite happy about it. You walked outside of the building when you saw your group of friends waiting for you. “So how did it go?” asked one of your best friends, Lara. Lara and you applied to be in the same university in San Francisco and you were more than surprised when you both got the news that you were accepted there. “I think I did okay. What about you guys?” “I think I messed it up.” Replied your other best friend, Chris, that you have met during your first year. “Ohhhh come one! You always say that and end up getting the best grade.” Said your other friend Luke. It is funny to say that you all came from Ohio but only met in a different state. “I think we all deserve a reward. What about an ice-cream by the lake?” You suggested to your friends and they all agreed.

               You were all sitting by the lake, enjoying your first moment of summer when Lara started to talk about what activities you could all do when it hit you. The 4th of July was coming, and your parents were organizing a party and told you that you could invite some of your friends. With exams and all, you completely forgot about it even though it would be the next week. “Guys! My parents are throwing a party for the 4th and since it happens to be a Saturday it will be during the whole weekend. You guys can come if you want to.” “I’m definitely down!” Shouted Lara, obviously very excited about it. “Yes!! How about you guys?” You asked them and you could see Chris was disappointed. “I’m so sorry but my parents have planned this family trip and I have to go.” You could tell he felt bad for not coming but you totally understood. “I can’t either Y/N. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay guys don’t worry. We will still have the time to see each other though.” You replied and you all spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and enjoying ourselves.

               It was around 7p.m when you came back to your dorm. Since it was officially summer break. You had to pack all your stuff. You already had started since the beginning of the week, so you just had to put the remain books and clothes in your suitcases. As you were packing your books, the door opened and it was Autumn, your roommate. You were with her since your first year and to be honest you could not have asked for a better roommate. You would miss her during summer. She was standing by the door with a sad facial expression. “I hate goodbyes.” She told you and gave you a warm hug. “You know it’s only for a few months, right?” “I know but still.” She answered you, still hugging you. Even though you knew you would see each other in two months, the fact of not seeing her during all this time was making you sad. She became a good friend and you were so glad that she came into your life. She would be back in her hometown in Arizona while you would be back in yours in Ohio.  She eventually let go and looked at you in the eyes. “Try not to forget me okay?” She told you in an amused way, but you knew deep down that she really meant it. “Forget you? How can I?” You replied and you both laughed. “I better get some sleep; my flight is at 7a.m tomorrow.” You told Autumn before checking the clock. “Oh right! I was just passing by to say goodbye, mine is in 3 hours. Have a safe flight Y/N.” She told you and hugged you again. “Thanks, you too.” You replied and then she was gone. You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth before laying on the bed and eventually fell asleep.

               The alarm went off at 4a.m and all you could say was that it was too early. Your eyes felt heavy and it was hard to keep them opened. Even though you only wanted to go back to sleep, you had to get prepared to catch your flight. You took a quick shower, got dressed in very comfy clothes and put your hair into a bun. You did not bother to do your makeup because once again, it was too early for that. You got back in your room to take your suitcases. You gave a final look at the room, in case you would have forgotten something. You called an uber and soon you were on your way to the airport. When you arrived there, you grabbed something to eat and you waited for what felt like ages. When you heard throughout the speakers that you could abroad, you made your way to the door written on your ticket and then you were on your way to Ohio.

               It was 10 a.m. when the plane landed. You waited to get your suitcases back and then you were looking for your parents. You spotted them with a little paper with your name written on it and you could feel a smile growing on your face. You hugged each other and you could have sworn you saw a tear in your dad’s eye. “We missed you so much!” Your dad told you with a huge smile. “We did! Look at you! You look great Y/N!” “And tan.” Your dad added to your mother’s sentence and you chuckled. “California’s sun is something else.” You chuckled again. “and I missed you too.” You said and soon you were on your way to the house. You missed Columbus. San Francisco was amazing, but you missed being home.

               When you opened the front door, you were gathered by your dog Buck when you heard your big sister, Jo yelled your name. “Y/N! Oh my god it has been a while!” “Jo! I missed you so much!” You ran at her and hugged her. Jo and you were very close. Of course, you would argue sometimes over sister stuffs, but you could not stay mad at each other for too long. She graduated two years ago, and she was working in a fancy enterprise. “We have so much catch up to do!” “Yes, we do.” You laughed and hugged her again. It felt good to be back home.

               It was Friday which meant that the 4th of July party would start tomorrow so you would not be able to rest that much. Your mother explained to you what you had to do today, and you could not see how you could do all she said in one day but well you did not have a choice. Jo would help your mother by cleaning the house, preparing the rooms and all while you would go do the groceries with your dad. When you all knew what to do, your dad and you did not lose any more time and you were on your way to the grocery store since it was already 11:30 a.m. You got all the food you needed which meant meat, fruits, pasta, French fries, chips and drinks which were sodas and alcohol. You also got everything that was needed for the barbecue and some fireworks and with all of that done you stopped by to get something to eat. You ate outside of the Macdonald’s and you chatted a little bit. You missed having time with your dad. “I am glad you will spend summer with us. It was weird when your sister left but when you also did, the house felt empty. Having you girls for the 4th is very great.” Your dad told you as you took a sip of your drink. “Aw dad, even though we are far from you, nothing will ever change. It’s good to be back home.” You replied and gave him a smile. There was a moment of silence before your dad spoke again. “So, did you find any boy in California?” He asked you and you almost chocked on your French fries. You would not talk about those things with your parents, especially your dad. Not because you did not want to but because you were quite shy about it. You would more share those kinds of things with your sister. “Oh, um nope. I’m not interested actually.” You simply replied. It was half true though. Your ex-boyfriend was great well you thought he was but towards the end of your relationship, he became weird, distant and he eventually cheated on you. But even with what he did to you, seeing Lara with her boyfriend kind of made you want to feel loved again. But it was not your priorities. You quickly changed the subject to avoid any more embarrassment. “Oh god, it’s already 2 p.m. We better go.” “Oh, you’re right. You don’t want your mom to kill us.” You laughed and you were on your way back home.

               The rest of the day went by quicker than you expected. Jo and you spent the evening together, but she left to spend the night with her boyfriend Mike. He was a good guy, you liked him. You were exhausted so you decided to go to sleep.

               Your alarm went off at 9 a.m. You didn’t have to lose any time since the first guests would be there at 11:30a.m. You jumped in the shower and got dressed. Since it would be a hot day, you decided to wear a short and a cute tank top. You were doing your makeup when you heard the doorbell rang and your mom said, “she’s upstairs”. You knew it was Lara. “In the bathroom.” You let her know when she was upstairs, and she got in. “Hey! Dang! You look cute!” she told you, and you gave her a weird look. “I have done half my makeup.” You chuckled and kept doing your eyeliner. “Still!” “Well thank you. You’re not bad yourself.” “I know.” She replied and you both laughed.

               It was 11:30a.m and the first guests were arriving. Lara was with your dad outside, your mom gathering the guests and you were bringing the food outside. You were coming in the kitchen when you saw a group of people coming and you spotted Jo. You assumed it was her friends. Yes, she had a lot of friends. You took the plate of meat from the fridge and you were making your way to the garden to give it to your dad when a tall figure kept your attention. You had never seen him before. You knew all Jo’s friends but not him. He was thin, blond haired and his arms were covered by tattoos. You couldn’t stop starring at him. You were brought back to reality when you heard your dad call after you and that was when you realized you were standing there starring at him with the plate in your hands. Your dad calling you caused your sister and her friends, including him, to look at you and you panicked and went outside quickly. The rest of the guests arrived, and you said hi to everyone but your mind where somewhere else.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk imagine

[delicatefury]

Looking back

The start of this decade was the start of the worst period of my life.

Hands down, no arguments, January 2011 was my lowest point. It was the start of what was supposed to be my final semester at college. The easiest semester of all of them. 3 months of light course loads and parties with friends.

It was the deepest, darkest, most despairing point of my longest battle with depression, triggered in early October when the days grew shorter and shorter. I had spent a hellacious Christmas break wracked by guilt from missed deadlines and lies of “I’m fine” even as I had nearly debilitating anxiety attacks. And when I got back to campus, I spent a week in abject dread before I finally broke down. I won’t get into details, but the crux of the matter was this: I had flunked 3 courses. I had to go home. I had a year to get myself back together. A year to prove that I could function, that I could handle courses, that I was getting healthy. If I could do that, get good grades at a local college (1 semester of transferrable credits), and pass an interview with my psychiatrist, I could come back and finish my degree.

2011 was hard. My mom and older sister had to fly overnight to come get me and help me pack up whatever I could. What didn’t fit on the plane and couldn’t be shipped cheaply I had to give away or sell. I came home broken and broke to a tiny town of people who knew I was supposed to be wrapping up my ivy league degree and were concerned about why I wasn’t.

2011 was hard. But I got better.

I claimed the family rabbit as my own and caring for her got me through the worst days. I drew. I wrote. I failed to get a lot of jobs, but then I got a temp job. Then another one, then another. I took courses at one of the local colleges an hour away, three days a week over the summer. Courses that I’d always wanted to try but felt didn’t fit the Ivy League image I had been trying to craft. I learned to bake and really committed to learning to knit. It went from a sometime hobby to a skill.

My first niece was born. The deepest, darkest, period of my life and my older sister is handing me this tiny little thing that I loved right away because she was part of my sister and part of my brother-in-law and part of my life now.

And I wasn’t going to let that damned Ivy League college beat me.

I reapplied. I sent in my new transcript and I met with my school therapist and I wrote several impassioned letters on how my depression was not going to define me (it had, it did, it does. But not in the way it felt like it always would. It’s just a facet. One detail in millions. I knit. I write. I bake. I have brown hair and hazel eyes. I have depression. I paint.) 

Then 2012.

I went back and I never retook those flunked classes. I had failed them. I had hated them. I had taken them because I was supposed to/because I was told to/to punish myself. I took the second half of astronomy for non-majors instead. I took Dostoevsky, History of the Anarchy Movement, and a couple of PoliSci courses that required bravery. I reconnected with friends who hadn’t graduated (younger students, grad students, students who voluntarily took time off). I got comfortable eating alone, took on more responsibility at work.

The rabbit passed when I was home on break. A stomach problem common in the species that struck her too quickly to cure. I mourned and thanked her for helping me when I needed it most. My parents took in a new dog, given up by her owner who chose her boyfriend over her pet, given to my dad by the owner’s father who knew him in passing through work. The dog has thrived at the farm.

I went to my therapist every week, called my Dad every Sunday, took my meds and still had bad days, but now I emailed my dean when I did and asked for his help.

I went out on a limb and applied for internships way out of my comfort zone. And I got one. I spent the summer in D.C.

Then I went back and finished my final semester. Sat for the LSAT a second time to see if not being in the midst of a total break-down made a difference. (It did. Two points).

I walked for my degree in May of 2013. Officially graduated the same year my little sister did, although I’d actually finished school the December before. Before then was a couple of months down time while I applied to Law School. I got in. I moved to a new city, but this time I had someone already there. My little sister.

Law school was better than college, but worse in some ways. I never made friends in law school the way I had in undergrad. Most of the students were locals who already knew each other or had shared experiences, and I was still fighting off my ghosts.

But my grades stayed, well, not great, but I kept a 3+ average.

I got Terrapin the summer of 2014, a stiped gray fuzzball with a grumpy face.  My sister got Lagertha early spring of 2015. I dated, briefly. I got coffee, often. My family went through one of the worst periods of our collective history, but we got through. A little scarred, a lot scared, but we got through. I fell in love with my hometown all over again. We rescued two dogs, a friend kept one a pair of nice strangers took in the other. I interned: at the public defenders’ office, at an asylum, with a professor. My second niece was born. I started writing The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars.

I graduated law school. I took the bar exam. I became a lawyer. My first nephew was born.

My sister and I moved across town and lived with the friend who took in the rescue. Our brother joined us. I worked as a host while I applied to firms, but could only get temp work. Lawyer temp work, but temp work all the same. Somehow my interviewers knew I wasn’t looking for their kind of permanent. My brother got a kitten.

I started posting the Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars.

My sister and I decided we were done with this city, our brother decided to follow where we went. I took the bar for the second time in February 2018, for my home state’s neighbor. I passed. We moved back home. No jobs lined up. Little savings. Student loans due. I got another temp job while I applied elsewhere. I hated it. 

So many applications. One interview. Months of silence.

I finally returned to going to Mass every Sunday instead of every other week or so.

In December 2018, a job offer. From the firm where I interviewed. Not in the big city, but the branch office on my side of the state line, a smaller city literally down the highway from my parents’ farm. I’d have to take a 3rd bar exam as soon as possible, but the job was mine if I wanted it.

January 2019, I started at my firm. January 2019, nephew #2 was born.

I started writing Grey Dawn Breaking.

I bought a house. I took my third bar exam. I passed.

I started posting Grey Dawn Breaking. The Dark Path Lit passed 50,000 hits.

I took depositions, I wrote Motions, I answered discovery. I befriended my coworkers, my secretaries, my boss. I found a new favorite coffee shop.

My nieces and nephews turned 8, turned 5, turned 3, were born. My parents celebrated 35 years of marriage with a second honeymoon. I’m going to Hawaii to spend time with the three people closest to me.

There are still bad days. I still use light therapy every morning. I still struggle with anxiety and imposter syndrome and phantom pangs from a hellacious month that ended nearly a decade ago.

But where I am now is a place I never could have dreamed I’d be in January 2011. During the last 10 years, my life has changed for the better.

And may I say the same December 31, 2029.

#Fury's life #Personal I guess #Personal I know #Very personal #A retrospective of my 2010s #which covers almost the entirety of my 20s #Depression #Anxiety #but Hope #always Hope #Even when it feels there is none

[xseildnasterces]

The end of 2019.

So that’s it. Here we are at the end of another year. I have so many unfinished blog posts from over the last couple of months and I hope I will get the chance to finish them soon but things are so busy at the moment and to be honest, I haven’t had the energy or motivation. 

I have a lot to say about 2019, but that warrants a post of its own. For now, I just want to address my annual goals. I want to see which goals I set for myself this time last year have been achieved, which haven’t and then reflect on what goals I want to set for the coming year. 2020. Crazy. I really hope they are the roaring 2020s. I’d like some good things to happen. Perhaps to find myself and work out a lot of things causing my depression, anxiety and constant heartache.

Anyway, onto the goals of 2019 and here is exactly what I wrote this time last year:

1.     LET PEOPLE GO. IF SOMEONE WALKS OUT OF MY LIFE FORGET THEM, or at least try to. E triggered this. I have tried so hard since she left but this year was a huge turning point for me. She had a baby, I had no idea, I tried to meet up on several occasions. I sent a card at Christmas and nothing. Not one thing, not one word, no thank you. Just nothing. I am over being pushed aside and walked over. I will not make contact with anyone this year if they do not also make an effort with me. People who are meant to be in your life will stay, and those who aren’t will disappear and were clearly a lesson or something else, but not everyone is meant to be in your life forever and I think that is something I need to learn to accept this year.

Did I accept this and forget people? Yes and no. I haven’t made any effort with E this year at all. She messaged me on my birthday which was actually a shock but then nothing. Am I over it? No, not fully. I miss her, I still have no idea what happened and when I see photos or she crosses my mind I feel sad that we are where we are. In terms of E, I think I have managed to accept it though. In terms of other people, oh hell no. I am trying my very best to accept it, but I just cannot. I cannot come to terms with the fact someone I want in my life might not meant to be. So no, I cannot accept this for everyone that walked out of my life in 2019 because there is one person who I don’t think I will ever be able to accept this about - and there is zero chance of ever moving on and forgetting them.

2. READ ONE BOOK A MONTH. Here I am again attempting to do the 12 books a year challenge. One per month for a whole year. I always start off well and start to dwindle and then fail when things get busy, but this year I want to do it once and for all. Third time lucky after all.

Complete fail. The exact same thing happened again. I started off amazingly, and then life got in the way and it came to a standstill. I have a book currently half-read sitting on a shelf and I’ve pretty much forgotten the first half of the book. This will certainly be my challenge again next year. I need to complete it. It has got to be done.

3. GET A NEW JOB (PREFERABLY IN AN INTERNATIONAL ORGANISATION). This year my contract will inevitably end at the European Central Bank. It could be over at the end of February when my current contract ends, it could be over a few months later if I am lucky enough to be extended, or it could end in September – but whatever happens it will end this year. So, I hope that I manage to get another job for my current one ending. I know it won’t be an easy task but I will do my very best to get somewhere else I want to be.

Success! I got two job offers for two incredibly big international organisations. I accepted one and moved to Washington DC. Career-wise things went pretty well in 2019 and I am pretty proud of myself. I also got two other interviews, both for other international organisations which I didn’t go to because I’d already accepted my current job. 

4. SLEEP EARLIER. Basically, get to bed earlier. When I first moved to Frankfurt I was getting into bed at around 10pm every single night. I slept better, I felt better and all around it was just better for my productivity and my body. I don’t want to set the goal of being in bed at 10pm every night because I know there is little chance of that happening. But for now, if I can be in bed before 11pm I’ll be pretty happy with myself.

Complete fail. I do try to be in bed at around 10 but I’m usually still awake during the earlier hours. So yes, I get into bed, but I don’t sleep. So not a success.

5. ORGANISE MY FINANCES. Before I moved abroad my finances were in excellent shape. I knew where everything was. Everything was saved in separate accounts for different things and they were all-round healthy and I knew what everything was for and where it was. Now, however, since moving abroad and being paid in another currency – it’s all over the place and I really want to make 2019 the year I get all of this sorted. I want the right savings in the right accounts and I want to know its safe, and correctly organised.

Nope. Another fail. It never happened. I had too much to do and started getting paid in yet another currency. My money is all over the place and needs sorting. Perhaps another goal for 2020.

6. USE MY PHONE LESS. I want to try and stop being tied to my phone all the time. I want to stop using my phone when I’m with other people, try to be more in the moment and enjoy the situation or surroundings that I am in and enjoy the company I hold rather than constantly scrolling and texting away. It’s rude and I hate it when other people do it, so I need to stop, or at least try anyway.

Achieved. Not completely through choice, but achieved non the less.

7. GET OUTDOORS MORE. I love being outside. I love hiking and I love nature and I want to make much more effort to get outside and walk and spend time in nature. I want to take photos of my adventures and I want to see new places and things. I want to stop spending all my time cooped up inside and actually spend my time doing something worth doing.

Yes. I’d say have achieved this. I spent a lot of time outside in 2019, from travelling to new places, spending time with friends, going on walks and reading outside. I had amazing weather in Frankfurt during the summer, spent almost a week in DC whilst attending my interview and spent every single day outside and also spent a lot of Autumn out in DC with H, F and M.

8. TACKLE MY ANXIETY. I have struggled with anxiety for probably longer than I realise. I think its always been there, from the smallest things when I was little when my dad would try and send me into the shop on my own and I would panic and not want to do it, to the big things like when I’ve had a panic attack from being in my old hometown city centre to heart palpitations for blood tests and other stressful situations. I don’t think I ever recognised it before I started having to take medication for depression but now I no longer take medication for this I have realised more and more just how bad my anxiety is, so one of my aims for this year is to try and combat or at least control it in some way or another.

I’m currently still tackling my anxiety. I don’t know if I will ever have fully tackled it, but I worked hard this year. I started taking medication, I saw a therapist once a week and I feel like talking about a lot of things, although somewhat uncomfortable for the most part... helped. Currently, my anxiety and panic attacks are better than they have been for a very long time. I haven’t yet got myself a therapist in DC but this is something I really need to do soon because otherwise, all the hard work of last year will come undone. 

Usually, I always write 10 goals, but for some reason, I only have 8 for 2019. Here is to making goals for 2020 and hoping that I have more success than I appear to have done this year.

#goals #2019 #end of the year #reflection #thought #feeling #feelings #thoughts #journal #me #diary #personal #lifestyle blog #new #new year

[speciallymary]

Autoimmune disorders- Alopecia and Underactive Thyroid: Friends/Enemies Since Forever

I'm on the rollercoaster of trying to love myself while Alopecia is in complete control and deciding how fast new bald spots are popping up. I want to tell my story.

When I was in preschool, I started showing signs of thinning hair, but my mom didn't take much notice because I was constantly growing it back relatively quickly. She did notice that parts of my scalp were extra tender, and when messed with enough, caused redness and tiny bits of swelling to occur. She chalked it up to me being rough with my hair and her braiding my hair a little tight (which was never the case in reality).

Kindergarten: I started to complain of always being hot, being so incredibly tired, and quarter size bald spots start popping up. This is when my mom takes notice and starts bringing it up with doctors. Doctors say I may have a slow metabolism, causing my tiredness, I was a little bit bigger than most kids my age (but definitely NOT fat when looking back at my flat stomach and not touching thighs), so I retain heat easier. The doctor said I could be pulling my hair without my mom knowing, and said to come back for my next yearly checkup with concerns if it gets worse.

1st grade: the exhaustion hits me like a truck. I can barely make it through a full day of school without falling asleep in class. As soon as I get home, I sleep until I need to wake up the next morning to go to the babysitter's house. Most of the time, I sleep through dinner and breakfast, leaving only lunch as my actual meal of the day. My teacher, nurse, and mom come together and make a plan, I take a 20 minute nap towards the end of the day if I need it, the class gets more time to do homework in class, and I only am graded on the work I complete, even if I don't actually finish assignments. My dad was still alive at this time, and did not like that I was asleep all the time, but no matter what they did to wake me, it never worked. He then dubbed me his Sleep Beauty. My mom only recently told me that the school started questioning if I was being hurt outside of school, and apparently did involve a caseworker, in which I was interviewed during a play therapy session (which I don't remember) and my mom had medical records sent to show that the doctor knew the symptoms I was having and that they weren't from abuse.

2nd grade: The year my doctor realizes my diagnosis of Alopecia, but knows that something else is going on and refers me to a specialist, refusing to see me as he didn't feel qualified for my case since I was so young. This is when I was diagnosed. I met with a team of specialists from all over my state at a Children's Hospital an hour away from my hometown. They immediately know what it is what they walk in the room, but require blood testing to back up the diagnosis of Underactive Thyroid, which would take a few days after the visit to receive. They then tell me that my Alopecia isn't a stand alone diagnosis, and that I don't have a primary diagnosis with a secondary diagnosis. My alopecia is stand alone, but also entwined with my underactive thyroid. They hoped that the alopecia would only last a year, and that if they got my underactive thyroid under control, that it would help reverse the effects of the alopecia. I got to meet 3 endocrinologists in the state, and fell in love with the one that worked in the hospital that the meeting took place in. We made our first appointment with her, were given a wide variety of pamphlets, and sent on our way. The specialists did make one mistake, though. They thought my alopecia had just popped up, but I had it for at least 2 years at this point, which they would later realize when their theoretical year ended. This was the year that I lost A LOT of hair. I had to cut my long, straight locks to a short bob cut to help my hair look fuller. This was when I started asking questions about my hair dying, what an autoimmune disorder was, and if I would be able to beat it, whatever it was. This was also the first time I got to break a school rule: by wearing hats in school. My mom met with my principal and teacher, and I was allowed to wear a hat in school and would be encouraged to wear one outside during recess and outdoor activities to protect the fragile skin on my head. By the end of the year, I didn't have much hair left, but I had my baseball hats and bandanas, so I was okay. This was also when my class/school was told of my diagnosis with my mom and I's consent, because it was easier to explain it once and know what slightly new expectations there were.

3rd grade: This was the year I started the process of getting on the right medication and medication levels. It was determined that I was not a candidate for the shots in the scalp, which would have been once a month for me, and the only alternative at the time for me was medication. I had never had to take pills before, so my mom had to get creative in crushing pills for my crying self to be able to take them. This was also when I lost all my hair the first time. I felt a little naked sometimes, but I always had a color coordinated bandana or hat at the ready, so it was an easy comfort blanket at the time. My teacher spent a lot of one-on-one time with me, helping me with anxiety, self-esteem, and body perception issues. She also kept me inside when UV rays were high, because even through a light hat, my skin would still burn at times. 2nd and 3rd grade were the years that I learned to write out feelings through assignments for the first time, any way I could.

4th grade was a big year, in a good and very bad way. I gained about half my hair back, then lost my father in March of that school year. I almost instantly lost all of my hair from the stress and grief, but my teacher, class, and school were so incredibly supportive. I missed a week and a day of school, for the passing, viewing, and funeral of my dad. My teacher was also my first male teacher, and helped me learn to express myself to people other than women and feel comfortable doing it. He instantly became a pseudo-uncle for me, and helped me through the few bouts of grief that I experienced in his room. This was also the year we went on a camping trip to conduct science projects. An anonymous donor funded my trip, and all of the supplies I needed for the trip, as no one wanted me to miss out on the BIG school field trip because of the passing of my dad. I got to learn what family meant in every sense, and knew I was in a supportive community. This was also when my friends started answering what my diagnosis was for me whenever someone asked. It was uncomfy for me to say the same thing over and over whenever someone new met me at school, so my friends took over, and whole classes talked about what it was so that they didn't have to ask me, which I greatly appreciated.

5th grade was rough for me emotionally, and to be honest, I don't remember much past my emotional breakdowns, frequent visits to the counseling office, and regularly getting sick from medication changes that required me to miss a lot of school. A lot of good things happened that year, and my teacher (another male), was super supportive, and was okay with me randomly crying in class, or darting out to cry in a stall for a few minutes before returning to class with freshly dabbed eyes. He owned a floral and decoration shop downtown at the time, and ended up getting a stuffed animal from his store that I particularly loved and having everyone sign a card from the store to give to me during Feb/March in the school year, the first anniversary of my dad's death, which was one of the hardest. This was also the year that I became a library ambassador, so I got to spend lunch/recess in the library reading to kindergarten kids and helping them learn to love reading as much as me! (Tbh, I honestly don't remember how much hair I had that year, but I know I did have some growth, but lost it at least once during the school year). This was also when my endocrinologist realized I was not going to outgrow the Alopecia, and changed her perspective on my diagnosis. I was moved from a mild-moderate diagnosis to moderate-severe, which I have stayed ever since.

6th grade: I lost my hair yet again, but also became eligible for my first wig. This was also the first year that new kids arrived in my grade and didn't know what I had or what it was about, but everyone in my grade and below knew, but wanted me to be the ones to tell them. We actually gained the new classmate(s) the first week I had my new wig, and my teacher had to miss that week, so they couldn't help with making those connections as well. This was also the first time I lost friends because of my hair loss, as when I told these new people, they were shocked, but processed it and continued to be friends with me for a while before telling me that they didn't want to be around me anymore because I was bald and "had holes in my head." Most of my class didn't support them in these actions, but continued to be friends with them because of other connections and similarities. This was also when I had anxiety of going to middle school and having to explain my hair situation all over again and being judged. My teacher had a lot of conversations with me about this worry, and it was noted in my records so that I had "proper supports" in middle school.

7th grade: the year from hell. I was bullied from the few friends I had from elementary school, as I went to the other middle school than most of my elementary school friends. I had a plan ready, but knew that I would do it at school if I did it, because my mom had just gotten comfortable in living at home without dad for the first time that year. My exhaustion got worse, I lost a lot of my hair growth from the summer, and my symptoms were all over the place no matter the medication changes due to the amount of stress and anxiety I was under going to and attending school. Classes and the library were my escape, as those bullies were not in the honors classes that I was, and were mostly too loud for the library in the morning and during lunch. I had break downs every morning going into school, and my mom would have to drag me into the wrong door of the building to meet the principal and nurse at the doors, then have me wait with staff until the counselor came in to talk with me about what was going on. No one believed me that I was being bullied, and all thought I was grieving my dad's passing, but the librarian offered me a position in opening and closing the library every day with her and joining her during lunch hour after I finished my lunch. This is what saved me, and this kick started my hair growing back, and my stress levels dropping, which helped with my underactive thyroid.

8th grade: I had a whole new group of friends through the connections the librarian made naturally with me, and I was so happy and supported. A lot of personal stuff also happened in middle school, so this helped tremendously in me living a better life as a fully functional student with natural supports built in. My teachers were aware of my diagnosis and my loss at this point, and whenever I struggled, would encourage me to write out my feelings, walk me to the counselor personally, or have me complete assignments in the library with my now pseudo-aunt, the librarian. I also gained most of my hair back, and for the first time, it was shirley temple curly! Everyone was astounded, and the endocrinologist was excited at how much growth I had in one year's time, as no one in the midwest had seen that in cases similar to mine.

High school: my hair came and went a few times more, but I never hid anything except maybe wear a hat outside during marching band. I had a completely new set of friends because of band, and fell in love with the peer tutoring program in the special education department, so I had support in all forms. I did have some bad autoimmune flareups in which I got very, very sick very, very quickly. But living with a chronic illness, I was sick most of the time and wouldn't say anything about it because it was/is my normal. So the nurse knew that if I went to her office, something was really wrong, and most of the time ended up with me leaving school immedoately for a hospital or emergency doctor's visit. I wore my hair all natural from my memory, and I only grew my hair all of high school, except for one cut (which was one bigger trim of about 6 inches taken off in total). My senior year, I did have a little more thinning in my hair overall, and was afraid I'd lose it all at the end of high school, but my hair never had the straw-like consistency that it did in my younger years whenever I lost all my hair.

Freshman year: I grew it out more, to almost my butt, when I chopped it off to about collar bone length during spring break. That was so freeing to feel like I could do things with my hair again.

Sophomore year: I had my hair cut again right before I moved back to school for band, and the hairstylist was one I had never been to before but at the same studio I went to, and cut it to my ears. For a while, I was worried that it was too short. Everyone told me it would grow out, but I'm not guaranteed the time for it to do that, and explained that to people. The time I had in high school and the start of college was a gift, but the doctors always tell me that if I lose my hair, there is no guarantee I will get it back at all. Looking back at my band pictures, I was cute as hell, and didn't have to put my hair up under my shako, just pin back the front part of my hair to keep it out of my face.

Junior year to now: oh boy, I noticed spots popping up that I hadn't had in a really long time. I was always used to having at least 2 small spots now, but the spots started popping up all over, have joined into bigger spots, and now I currently have about half my hair with about 9 spots taking my hair away at different rates. It'll grow rapidly in some areas then randomly slow down. I am actually getting married next year, and I want my hair so I can have a fun hairdo, but I'm preparing for being patchy, in which I have agreements with people I trust that if it gets to a point in which I can't cover everything anymore, I'll shave it and do alternative gemstones on my head in place of a veil and hairdo for the wedding. I did all natural in childhood, and looking back at the pictures, I don't have the confidence to do long patches of hair again. I'm trying to accept the loss of hair again, but also love myself in my current state, as I may never be in this spot ever again in my hair journey.

I have been completely baby-butt bald, peach fuzz bald, patchy halos bald, full head of hair with minimal spots, and a fullish head of hair with major spots. My hair has been perfectly pin straight, wavy, curly as heck, and for the past several years, an exact 50/50 of either wavy and curly or straight and curly. The split is literally one half is on texture, and the other half is a different texture.

My doctors have told me I would never get my eyelashes or eyebrows back again, and that's mostly true. I have very faint eyebrows that are very thin that may or may not randomly grow in more full/darken in color, and I actually prefer no eyebrows for myself, as I actually raise my eyebrows in all pictures as a natural response to open my eyes more, and I don't look as crazy compared to penciled in eyebrows doing the same reaction in a picture.

I have never had and mostly never will have hair on my armpits, and I constantly surprise myself in how much hair some people have on their armpits, but support all the armhairs or lack their of!

I only recently learned how to shave my legs, because up until then, I would mostly lose my leg hair in the summers due to more exposure to elements and gain more of it back in the winters.

I have "thyroid syndrome of the eyes" in which my underactive thyroid affects my eyesight in not only blurriness, but also double vision and other visual impairments that have just recently finally started to be corrected with added prisms in all directions to my glasses that I had to first start wearing in 7th grade when I suddenly couldnt see much at all.

I get migraines and headaches easily, mainly because of the part of the brain that works with the thyroid and when my medicine is off, it affects that part of my head. I also have been way more light, sound, and motion sensitive in the past couple of years, but much more compounded in the last year.

But it is who I am, and whenever anyone asks me if I ever want to take my autoimmune disorders away, I confidently say no. Why? Because it makes me who I am today. I matured and still mature within myself which helps me accept others' differences as well. I connect with the individuals I work with in the special needs community that my coworkers, peers, and typical individuals cannot. I'm upfront with those I interact with about my disorders once we have an established connection and I feel safe telling them the information.

Yes, I do have problems with anxiety, trust, self-esteem, and body impressions of myself. But my alopecia and underactive thyroid know when to kick me in the pants a little bit to get me to realize different life lessons. It's made my heart so much bigger because of my struggles that I've gone through, am going through, and will go through.

I've been on the same medication since 3rd grade, with varying levels of prescription. But my tolerance is high, yet I can't change prescriptions due to me having horrific reactions to the other medications. There will most likely come a day in which my thyroid will stop working and I will have to have surgety to remove it and be on hormonal medication the rest of my life, but I'm always going to be on some sort of hormonal medication for the rest of my life anyway.

Also, I've struggled with getting the help I needed medically with anxiety and depression and being on a hormonal medication. My doctors wouldn't put me on any depression or anxiety medicine until I started college because they didn't want to effect my thyroid medication. So I have been in and out of counseling almost all of my life, and most likely will continue throughout my life when I need it. Now, I have the help I need with supportive and safe network, a counseling program, and the medicine I need to be my best. I also have connections to social workers and other specialists that can make immediate arrangements if my needs are not met ever again.

This isn't even my full story, but the thread of consciousness that I wanted to share right now about my autoimmune disorders. Thanks for reading all of it!

#alopecia #underactive thyroid #hypothyroidism #autoimmune disorder #mental illness #life story #my life #no armpit hair #prefer no eyebrows #stream of conscience #stream of conscious writing #stream of thought

[mugsywrites]

Fic Update

Friends I’ve been out of town the past week because my uncle died and I had to drive my dad (who’s in terrible health himself) back to our home town for the funeral. I haven’t spoken to my uncle in over 10 years and we were never close but I’m still heartbroken for my dad. Plus I fucking hate being in my hometown (the locals aren’t quirky, they’re racist and the town is so small every time I go out I’m at risk of running into my fucking ex).  So I haven’t gotten around to writing much. But here, have a taste of something I started because I was in a negative frame of mind: (eventual Jaaryl)

The Unquiet Grave

Over thirty years after Daryl Dixon was murdered a small fleet of construction trucks show up on the ridge just above his grave. He isn’t sure of the exact date until one day while drifting through the site he sees an open newspaper—September 21, 2010. Boyd Guthrie and the rest of the Savage Sons had beaten Daryl to death behind Willie’s bar on October 5, 1979.

Daryl keeps waiting for the construction crew to uncover his bones but much to his relief they never do. When he first died he’d been trapped in his body—one minute the world was slowly fading out as Boyd stomped the back of his head again and again the next things snapped into focus. “Oh geez Boyd,” Ashley Morrow was saying as he stared into Daryl’s dead face, “You killed him.”

“Fucking queer deserved it,” Boyd replied.

“Merle ain’t gonna be happy.”

“He’ll get over it,” Boyd said easily.

They wrapped his body in a tarp and threw it in the back of Ash’s pickup truck where Daryl spent several terrifying hours in blackness before hearing Merle’s voice screaming, “I want to see him! I want to fucking see him!” The tarp vanished and Daryl was looking up into his brother’s tear-streaked face. “Oh my sweet Jesus,” Merle whispered. He laid a shaky hand on Daryl’s cheek and Daryl realized he could feel it. Could feel the whiskery kiss that Merle pressed against his forehead. Boyd was jabbering away, saying he was sorry but what did Merle expect him to do when his queer brother tried sucking his dick? What the fuck was any man supposed to do?

Daryl could see Merle’s eyes, could see that Merle didn’t believe the bullshit coming out of Boyd’s mouth and that even though he said, “I understand. Tried beatin’ it out of ‘im myself since he was little,” that Boyd was not forgiven. Merle kissed him again and tenderly replaced the tarp over Daryl’s face.

After that was hours of driving over bumpy back country roads. They stopped and he could hear the scraping of earth, then he was dragged out of the truck and thrown into the ground. Daryl had calmed down a bit but started panicking again at the first feeling of the weight of earth thrown on his remains. The men burying him said nothing but Daryl still knew one of them was Merle.

No Bubba don’t let them, he screamed internally as the weight of earth grew greater, in his panic reverting to his childhood word for his big brother. More weight, the noises from the outside world fading until he could hear nothing. He was imprisoned in darkness and silence and could do nothing but scream helplessly and pray for madness oh god this was hell, worse than any fire or demons or—

The world shifted and Daryl was standing outside in a dark woods at night. Merle was kneeling down at Daryl’s feet, palm flat against the disturbed earth and breathing raggedly.

“Merle?” Boyd’s voice, “We best be on our way.”

“Need a minute,” Merle said in a thick voice, “He was my brother even if he was a queer.”

“Fine,” Boyd muttered, “I’ll be in the truck.”

Daryl was too relieved to be free from the earth to be angry. He could move, he could turn around, and when he looked down he saw he was dressed in the simple black t-shirt and jeans he’d worn to Willie’s that evening.

“Thank you fucking Jesus,” Daryl muttered. He heard the door to the truck slam shut, “If that prick didn’t want to waste his evenin’ up here he shouldn’t’ve bashed my head in.”

Merle let out a choked sob, hand going to his face. Daryl reached down and squeezed his shoulder, surprised that he could do it, surprised that he could feel the leather of Merle’s jacket beneath his hand. It didn’t go both ways; Merle took no notice of his brother’s comforting gesture. Merle’s fists balled up into the earth and he growled out, “Fuckers will pay for this, baby brother. I swear to you on everything.” Then he was getting to his feet and walking back to the truck.

Daryl never saw him again.

He watched the truck as it faded off into the distance. The woods were black but Daryl could still see, and he drifted over to his grave. There was a bit of metal flashing in the moonlight, and Daryl bent down to examine it. He saw it was the Zippo lighter Merle’d brought back from ‘Nam; on the side a hand-engraved skull and the words, 15 KILLS IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY FUCK YOU. He’d laid it on Daryl’s grave as a miniature tombstone, and later Daryl would wonder if that simple act had been what had freed him from the ground.

He supposed he’d never know.

Three decades later he watches the construction crew trample over his grave again and a-fucking-gain he wonders what would happen if his bones were ever discovered and given a “proper burial”. Wonders if he’d pass over into the Great Beyond or start haunting whatever pauper’s grave is his new resting place. Neither option is particularly appealing—he knows where he’s going if it’s the former and it isn’t the place with the harps and angels floating on fluffy clouds. If it’s the latter he’s not interested in hanging around for eternity in the graveyard of Mountain View Baptist next to his Daddy. He doesn’t know if graveyards are full of ghosts or if he’d have to actually talk to Will Dixon and isn’t interested in finding out.

Daryl is perfectly content to stay where he is. He’s not exactly happy, but he’s at peace. The area around his grave is a beautiful spot, and Daryl can think of worst places to spend eternity.Daryl spends his days wandering through the woods cataloging the flora and fauna and marveling at the endless variety of life teaming in this corner of the Southern Appalachians. He finds everything from black bears to blue ghost fireflies; the latter flickering to life for only a few weeks in wet summers.

On the rare occasions he feels lonely he goes to the stretch of the Appalachian Trail that is just inside the boundary of his haunt. It can get fairly lively depending on the time of year, there’s an overnight shelter in Daryl’s range. Solitary hikers stop and sometimes read and Daryl can look over their shoulders. He only gets a chapter or a two at a time this way, random glimpses at a larger story he’s cut off from. Still it’s something. Whenever he gets bored or depressed he just switches off for a bit and when he returns to the world days or years later he’s refreshed.

Daryl would like to switch off for the duration of construction but he can’t, much to his annoyance. There’s too many people for too much of the day. He’s not sure exactly what causes him to come back to the world after switching off—there’s no rhyme or reason to it—but having people around seems to have something to do with it. He’s never had this many people around, never had them this close to his fucking grave. Heavy workmen’s boots tromping everywhere as they tear down his trees and scare off his animals.

Daryl can affect the physical world. It requires a great deal of sustained concentration and effort for not a lot of results but since he can’t fucking switch off he has nothing better to do. Workers lose their keys, are startled by loud bangs, equipment breaks down, wood piles are toppled over. He follows the construction foreman around, placing his hand on the back of the man’s neck. This is the hardest thing to do and he doesn’t always succeed but when he does the foreman stops dead in his tracks and shivers all over.

“Tobin?” says one of the crew, “You alright, boss?”

“Something just walked over my grave is all,” the guy replies, looking spooked.

“Motherfucker you’ve been tromping over my grave all fucking month,” Daryl snarls, “Let’s see how you like it.” He places his hands on the back of Tobin’s neck and pours every ounce of concentration and anger he has into it. He breaks out the big guns, remembering the night he was murdered, every thrown punch and desperate attempt to survive before he was overwhelmed.

“Boss!” the worker says, and lunges forward to catch Tobin before he can collapse. The beefy guy is pale and his eyes are glassy and he looks on the verge of passing out. Daryl feels savagely triumphant, but only for a moment. It’s replaced by guilt so intense he’d give anything to be able to just switch off and not have to deal with his thoughts or the bright lights of the world any longer. Wants these people gone so he doesn’t feel the pull of his grave so strongly and can leave. Wants to just be able to fucking rest. It’s not this fucker’s fault, he’s just doing his job.

“Sorry,” Daryl mutters, even though the guy doesn’t know he’s there and can’t hear him even if he did, “I’m bein’ a dick.” He decides to leave them alone from that point on, wandering among the fringes of the site, following what animals haven’t been scared off. Watches the building come together—it’s a log cabin with enormous picture windows looking out over the valley.

In the end it turns out to be a good thing he can’t switch off. He might have missed when Aaron showed up for the first time if he had been.