#love to be full of rage but with a College Degree

[wellofdean]

OK, I was going to reblog this excellent post by @luckshiptoshore so go read it, because yes. Yes!! YES!!! But then when I got started my post got super long and I felt bad tacking it onto her post and decided to make my own in response to these tags:

#i am actually a bit obsessed by the whole hunting as queerness metaphor#it’s so clearly something everyone involved in the show is thinking about#supernatural

Gurl, me too! Like go back to the start! By the time Supernatural began, the backlash against the Joseph Campbell Monomyth-style mode of storytelling had already begun in the hallowed halls of USC film school, and yo: I was there at the time of Kripke's graduation, and my best friends from college are full scale big giant time filmmakers now, whose names I will not share on main because it's uncool, and I don't want that attention, but... yeah. I am referencing FIRST HAND SOURCES on this.

But, for a real source? The Oxford English Dictionary places the first use of the term "Queer Theory" in 1990, with Queer Studies as an option in the academy by 1992. I know the kids think it's a new-fangled thing, but Kripke graduated USC in 1996 (I graduated in 1995) and it was ALL THE RAGE by then. My friends read queer theory in their Critical Studies courses in the Film School, I read it in the College of Humanities getting my degree in Literature. By that time, you could not get through that school with any degree in any non-STEM subject without knowing about ye olde postmodern lenses, queer and feminist theory, and without knowing how to employ those lenses.

Queer refers to sexuality, yes, but the word's earliest use (again, according to the OED) is in the 1500's, meaning: strange, odd, peculiar, eccentric. Also: of questionable character; suspicious, dubious.

So, ok, in 2005, Enter Supernatural, episode 1:

Presented? Two brothers. One actively seeking credit in the straight world that is not available to him in the bosom of his family: Stanford, law school, hot co-ed girlfriend, the other bound to his fractured, wounded family by duty, yes, but also by love, living on the fringe, alone, fighting monsters, and chasing after his father's approval, and who has long since given up any dream of being 'normal'. Episode 1 presents Sam's call to adventure, which he refuses when it's just familial duty, honor and love calling him, but accepts when the show takes a very straightforward and very telling path by classically fridging his woman. Ok, now he's on board. Like John, whose motivation is another dead woman, his motivation is revenge. So far so straight!

Dean though: he's different. He is already on the adventure and he was not 'called' or given the option of accepting or refusing because he had no agency when his feet were set upon this road. He does not fit the straight world at all, because he is cobbled together out of love, duty, deep guilt, striving, desperation and fear. This is who he is now, in some elemental, incontrovertible way. It was not a choice for him, he was born to it. His mother is dead, and we later learn, she made the choices that brought them all to this fate. Dean remembers her idyllically, but he is not motivated by revenge, more than any other thing, he wants to be worthy. He wants his father's approval, his brother's love.

Enter Supernatural's main theme: fucked up relationships between men enmeshed in patriarchy, which will eventually expand to include fucking GOD HIMSELF.

And like, there are SO MANY CLEAR STEPS ALONG THE ROAD in season one, and I am not even talking about sexuality and gender here, but there is SO MUCH TO SAY about it in season 1. But I am not talking about that -- I am talking at a structural, narrative level, the whole thing is just fucking all the way queered, yo.

The big climax?

At the end of the season, Dean says: "I just want my family back together. You, me, Dad... it's all I have." He is Sam's mother, John's partner! His vulnerability and emotion is feminized and contrasted with Sam and John's more overtly driven by their more masculine/straight heroic revenge quest. John: "Sam and I can get pretty obsessed, but you always take care of this family." Only that's not John talking, it's Azazel, and Dean knows it is because his father would never forgive how soft he is, how he will always choose love and family over revenge. Then, in the end, the show makes a huge point of telegraphing that Sam is finally aligning with Dean by refusing to shoot Azazel because he's possessing John, and Sam just can't do that to Dean.

Sam and Dean are thus bound together and cemented into a marginalised path, living on the road, haunting liminal spaces and cheap motels, confronting the monstrous everyday. Sam is presented as the brains of the operation, he does research, logics his way through things (masculine) while Dean is the heart who acts impulsively and on instinct and intuition (feminine).

It later transpires that Sam has a piece of the monster inside himself, and Dean has to learn to love the monstrous, he has no choice, because Sam is his brother and then Cas... and, and, and!

Like... I could go on and on, citing ENDLESS EXAMPLES. This could be a literal book. Maybe one you need to read with a magnifying glass like my condensed edition of the OED. LIke, the queerness of Supernatural is DIZZYING and MYRIAD.

But basically? FROM THE START, hunting is a queered version of family, and within that, Dean is a queered version of a Campbellian hero. Hunting is a metaphor for otherness and liminality, and that's even before you say a WORD about sex. It starts in deviation from the norms of family, masculinity and expands from there on so many levels both in story and on a meta level. The story is flesh on queer fucking bones.

I'm so sorry, but anyone who thinks queerness was not BAKED INTO Supernatural and more specifically into Dean from DAY 1 has clearly never seen Dean's insane lip gloss in season 1, and vastly underestimates the cultural awareness of people who write shit in Hollywood, and also the other people who put pink lip gloss on pretty boys in Hollywood. Nothing that gets on your screen wasn't a fucking choice made and approved by a LONG LIST of people who know what they are about.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #the queerness is baked in from the word go #like...OBVIOUSLY #and transparently

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

#full-bodied and red #these two shitheads #astarion smut #bg3 smut #tavstarion smut #period kink #astarion period kink #blood kink #vampire shenanigans #these two are so weird #idiots in love #they're both assholes

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 2

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: You have this amazing talent of knocking the wind right out of Steve's chest with words alone.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, mentions of being sick (among other scarier pregnancy symptoms), language

Word Count: 3614

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Rain slammed against the window panes of the Harrington house like bullets. The cold seeped through the walls and ate straight through Steve’s pajamas, and the cup of coffee in his hands was doing little to remedy it. There was zero hint of sun in the sky, it seemed like there would be none all day, and Steve was really regretting coming out from under his covers. 

Steve had only slept in his own house three times over the past two weeks; he’d made quite the home for himself on your couch, living out of a backpack of clothes he’d stuck in the corner of your living room. You had asked him not to leave you alone, and what kind of man would he be if he had said no to that? He probably wouldn’t even have been able to, anyway.

He didn’t know if he would be allowed to sleep in your bed with you, and he had been too afraid to ask. 

While his father never really bothered to care where his son was, and his mother trusted him enough to let him do his own thing most of the time, he was still expected to show his face at home every once in a while. He’d been stuck with the closing shift last night (even though it was outside of his availability, so thanks for that, Keith), and he knew you’d be fast asleep by the time he made it back to your apartment. You’d called the store after you got home at the much more reasonable hour of six thirty. ‘I think I can live with being alone for tonight’ you’d told him. ‘I’ve got a paper to write, anyway.’ 

Fuck, Steve really needed a better job. Preferably one that paid him more and wasn’t open until eleven p.m. on a Thursday night. 

You worked a big girl job at the Roane County Historical Society museum. You were just a secretary, but you had a salary, insurance, and all that other grown up stuff. Nine to five, four days a week, and they helped with your college tuition, too. Come May, you’d have a History degree and a teaching certification, and word on the street said Hawkins Middle was about to have a need for a  new History teacher. Unlike him, you had the perfect five year plan laid out right in front of you. 

Y’know, as long as Steve hadn’t ruined it for you. 

By the time he woke up on Friday, his father was long gone. It was nearing one in the afternoon, and the big empty house felt extra big and extra empty today. Steve glanced out the window as he poured a second cup of coffee and saw the rain collecting in the bottom of the long-since drained pool in his backyard. A handful of stray leaves sat mixed with the rainwater, some stuck in a brown mass on the bottom, some floating lazily atop the puddle. 

He was startled out of his trance by his mother’s voice and nearly dropped his full mug.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, heels clicking along the tiles. “Or, good afternoon, rather.”

Meredith Harrington was the opposite of her husband in more ways than anyone could count. She actually enjoyed spending time with her child, for one, but there had never been an angry bone in her body. She wasn’t immune to frustration, or worry, but it was never unfounded. Yet still, for every wild flame of rage that shot from her husband's mouth, she counteracted with calmness. Or, more accurately, quiet, fearful resignation. Her husband never put his hands on her or their son, but Steve could always tell that she had spent her whole marriage walking on eggshells, waiting for the terrifying moment that he did, as if it was a simple inevitability. 

Steve loved his mom, but fuck, he wished she would just stand up for herself for once.

“God, Mom, you scared me,” Steve responded, leaning against the counter. 

“I do live here, too, y’know,” she poked back with a smile. “When did you get so jumpy?”

If she ever found out the real answer to that question, she would probably never let her son out of her sight ever again.

“Haven’t seen much of you these last couple weeks,” his mother observed. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he insisted. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. She put the pocketbook she was holding down on the marble countertop of the island and crossed the room to lean against it, opposite her son. “I can tell, there’s far too much going on in that big head of your’s.”

Steve snorted at the well meaning insult. 

“It’s nothing mom, I promise.”

“Come on now, you know I don’t buy that,” his mother asked with arms crossed. “Talk to me, kid.” 

“I-I don’t know.” Steve was absolutely, in no way, ready to talk about any of what was going through his head, especially to his mom. ‘You might be a grandma come September’ wasn’t really something he could just drop in the middle of casual conversation.

“Is it a girl, maybe?”

Steve’s quiet was proof enough that his mother was, at least partially, right. She gave her son a knowing smile.

“Tell me it’s not Nancy again, right?” she asked. Meredith was generally a pretty forgiving woman, but Nancy had really broken her son’s heart. So, while she would always show nothing but kindness to the eldest of the Wheeler children, she didn’t have to like her. 

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Steve assured. “That ship sailed a long, long time ago.” 

“Good,” she replied. “Will I ever get to meet this mystery girl?”

Steve just shrugged, deciding it best to omit the fact that the “mystery girl” had lived across the street for eighteen years and swam in their pool every summer for a decade.

“You should invite her over for dinner some time,” his mother said. She leaned forward and pulled a piece of errant lint off of Steve’s shoulder with perfectly manicured nails. “I’ll roast a chicken. It’ll be nice.”

“She doesn’t eat chicken.”

“She doesn’t eat chicken?” she parroted back. “What kind of person doesn’t eat chicken?”

“She’s a vegetarian, mom,” he explained. 

“Ah,” his mom accepted. “Then I’ll make that broccoli cheddar casserole you like. You know, the one I make during Lent every year? Think she’d like that?”

“Yeah, I think she would.” Steve was trying his best to hide his smile, though he wasn’t doing it all that well.

“Alrighty.” She patted her son’s shoulder as she walked past him and gathered her purse. “Well, I have to go run some errands. You’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“No, thanks.”

“Right. You’re much too cool to tag along with mom to the grocery store. How could I have forgotten?”

“No! No, it’s not that, I-”

“I’m joking, Steve,” she assured with a smile. “Make sure that cup ends up in the dishwasher, okay? Not just in the sink.” 

“Dishwasher. Got it.”

“I love you! Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!”

With that, the heavy front door shut and Steve was plunged into the silence of deserted suburbia. 

You were at work, he had the day off with no plans, and the idea of being at all productive sounded absolutely exhausting. He finished his coffee in two big gulps and decided the best way to spend the day would be to crawl right back into bed and wallow in his feelings.

Steve had, very much on purpose, kept most of his thoughts about your current situation to himself. Partially because every time you two did start talking about it, you ended up a slushy pile of tears in his arms. The other reason, though, the bigger reason, was that he was terrified that you would put all of your own wants and wishes to the side and do whatever he wanted you to. The concept of you having a baby you didn’t want just to appease him made him sick to his stomach.

His parents only got married because his mom ended up pregnant at nineteen, and having a baby out of wedlock in 1967 was a social sin of the highest order. So they planned a wedding in two weeks time (a small family affair, exclusively to save face and avoid the questions that arise with courthouse ceremonies), and moved into a big, fancy house so that everyone knew the Harringtons were a normal, run-of-the-mill, perfect American family. His father loved to point out all of the things he didn’t get to do all because Steve came along and got in the way, and his mother. . . 

She loved him. He knew that. He also knew that she had to pack up her life to play house with a man she was always a little bit afraid of, all because of him. His father always resented him for it, but his mom never did. At the very least, she never told him she did. 

The thought of doing to you what his father did to his mom absolutely fucking terrified him, but ‘terrified’ had been his baseline state of being pretty much constantly over the past two weeks.

Steve was no stranger to fear. He’d had extensive experience with the feeling; that sharp heaviness that settled itself behind his ribs and sucked every drop of oxygen out of his lungs. When it came at him hard and fast, that was when he could handle it best. This was not that. This fear was slow and achy, all-encompassing. It sealed itself onto his bones, like some sort of emotional slime. Like a fungus.

And, honestly, most of that fear was for you, not him. The worst thing that could happen to him was that he could end up being a shitty father, and while he would hate that more than pretty much anything in the entire world, it did sort of pale in comparison to your worst case scenario. You could die.

Yeah, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic, but you still could. It wasn’t all that far outside of the realm of possibility. You were already horribly sick, you had been for the past few weeks, and while you had been taking the constant nausea and incessant dizzy spells like a fuckin’ champ, it wasn’t like a positive attitude would be able to save you if you started hemorrhaging. 

Steve really hoped, for your sake, that you had yet to go down this train of thought, but he knew you most likely had. As terrified for you as he was, he understood that you were probably feeling all of it tenfold.

And yet, behind all of that, he was having a very difficult time squashing that tiny inkling of reckless hope that had been planted in the back of his head. He was still a 21 year old dick-head who had zero business taking care of a baby, and he definitely wasn’t allowed to be excited about it. For, like, a million different reasons.

Eventually, he fell back into a heavy-limbed sleep, but was woken up however many hours later by the shrill ring of the phone. A bleary eyed glance at the clock on his bedside table told him it was just passed six o’clock. His mother should be back by now, right? He let it ring.

 A moment passed, and it rang once more. He debated for a moment if he even had the right to answer it anymore, but he begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed and picked it up anyway.

“Harrington Residence,” he grumbled, hoping whoever was on the other side could tell how frustrated he was to be awake. 

“Steve?” Your voice came through the line. It was strained, and he heard you trying your best to disguise the sobs coming from your throat. “It’s me.”

“Hey, woah, what’s going on? What happened?” he questioned, any annoyance gone. 

“Are you able to come pick me up?” you stuttered out between sniffles. “I’m at work. I-I have a flat tire.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course I can,” he said.  

“Okay.”

“I’m on my way, alright? Five minutes, tops,” he told you. He had the earpiece of the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder, and the cord was stretched as far as it could go to reach into his bedroom as he haphazardly swapped his flannel pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans.

“Thank you.” Another sob.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he insisted. “Hang tight, I’ll be right there.”

The rain had slowed back to a dismal drizzle that splashed into the puddles stretched across Steve’s driveway. The drive to the museum was usually short, but the evening rush (as if the barely-there Hawkins traffic could ever be called that) slowed him down just enough for it to be annoying. The museum had officially closed an hour ago, though stray patrons and evening administrative duties usually kept you back after hours. 

Steve saw you shivering underneath the awning that hung over the front doors, comparable to a lost kitten stuck in a thunderstorm. The shoulders of your sweater were soaked through, and as Steve pulled into the parking lot and stopped his car, he could see the angry black rivers of runny mascara that dribbled down your face. 

“What the hell are you doing waiting for me out here in the rain?” Steve asked as he jogged up to where you were standing. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s freezing.”

“That creepy research assistant is in there and I hate being in the same room as him when there’s nobody else around,” you choked out, syllables broken up by wracking sobs. 

“Alec?” Steve asked, and you nodded. He pulled you tightly against him before adding, “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

“Please don’t do that,” you squeaked. 

“Let’s change your tire, huh?” Steve said, though he made no move to let you go. “Do you have the spare?”

“That-” your words were cut off by a pitiful sniffle. “That is the spare.”

“Of course it is,” Steve sighed, though he most certainly should not have, because it just spurred on more crying from you. “Hey, it’s alright. I can take you home and we can get a new tire on it in the morning, okay?”

“I just had a really bad day,” you wept into his shoulder.

“I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“I spilled the hottest tea in the universe all over my legs,” you croaked. Steve winced at the image. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into the top of your head.

“And since it was so hot, I accidentally said ‘motherfucker’ in front of a tour group that consisted exclusively of second graders!” you added. Steve would have laughed at that if you weren’t so wildly upset. “And Creepy Alec was being creepy all day long-”

“My offer still stands.”

“And then I came out here and my fucking tire was fucking flat!” you exclaimed, punctuated by another bout of wailing, the kind that made your whole body shake and your voice stutter. Steve took it the best he could, petting the back of your head and holding you tight, wishing he could go into your brain and dig all of the bad bits out. 

“Let me get you home, and we can get you into some dry clothes and deal with your car in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimpered. 

Steve let you go, but when he went to pull you along to his car so the pair of you could leave, you stayed planted right where you were. You lifted your watery eyes to meet his, and he gazed at you from where he stood.

“Steve?” you quietly asked him. 

“Yeah?” Steve responded. A silence fell between the two of you, though the lazy rain and evening downtown traffic poked holes through it.

“I wanna keep the baby.”

You had this amazing talent of knocking the wind right out of his chest with only words alone.

“That-” came out of fucking nowhere, holy shit!, he didn’t add. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you muttered over a wobbly lip.

Steve was paralyzed. The soles of his shoes had been superglued to the pavement and his arms had been turned to stone. It was somehow both exactly what he did and did not want to hear all at the same time, because deep down in his gut he knew he wanted that too, but there was a laundry list of reasons why it was a bad idea, why it was irresponsible, why it was maybe everything he ever wanted, and- 

“Steve, if you don’t want to do this, that's okay, but I need you to tell me. Now.” Your voice, shaky and full of fear and yet so, so determined, pulled him up and away from his thoughts once again. 

“I do!” he exclaimed, maybe with a bit too much fervor. He regained his ability to move and closed the gap between the two of you in one wide step. “I do.”

You stood silent with your glassy eyes staring bullets into his. 

“Look, I’m gonna start talking, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop, so if it gets to be too much, just shut me up, okay?” Steve said. He brought his hands up to grace your shoulders.

“What?” you questioned, confusion laced throughout your miserable expression.

Steve had spent the last three and a half years doing everything he could to drown out the sounds of his feelings for you, and Robin was right. It was destroying his brain. 

“I’m really, really in love with you,” he said. “And I have been for a really, really long time. Since way before this, fuck, since before Starcourt, and I’m so fucking sorry for not having the guts to say it until now. I’m the universe’s biggest coward for that-”

“You are not a coward!”

“-And I know you deserve better, but for some reason that still eludes me, you’ve stuck with me through all the bullshit, anyway. You could’ve run away whenever you wanted to, you could’ve gone with your parents when they left, but you didn’t, and that has to mean something, right?”

“Steve,” you wept.

“I promise, there is nothing in this world that I want more than to do this with you, alright? Not a single fucking thing,” he assured you. “I meant what I said. Holding your hand the whole time.”

Steve took your trembling hand into his own, fingers fitting together like lock and key. 

“If you’ll have me,” he added.

Your lips wobbled, you let out another shattered sob, and you kissed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Like you would drop dead right on the spot if not for his lips on yours. Steve kissed back, because he knew he would drop dead if he didn’t, and now he had tears to match your own.

“I’m really, really in love with you, too,” you blubbered after the pair of you pulled apart. You had a hand on either side of his face, fingers ghosting over the junction of his jawline and neck, and Steve had his wrapped delicately around each wrist.

“You really wanna do this?” Steve asked you. “You really mean it? You’re not just saying it?”

“I really mean it,” you said definitively. You were still very much crying, though you were infinitely less miserable than you had been five minutes ago. The pair of you stayed swaying in each other's arms, protecting each other from the cold.

“Good, because I really mean it, too,” he responded. 

The thick, foggy haze of emotion was beginning to dwindle, and despite the warm bubble of affection the two of you had created, you were still standing out in the rain. And Steve was pretty sure he could see Creepy Alec spying on them through one of the second story windows.

“Let’s go home. I’ll make you dinner,” Steve murmured to you, and you nodded in agreement. 

Steve drove you both back to your apartment and made a feast of plain scrambled eggs and buttered toast, because it was all your stomach could really handle right now. Turns out, he very much was allowed to sleep in your bed with you, and after he’d finished doing the dishes in the sink, he joined you under the pile of blankets that adorned your mattress. Your cat curled itself up at the end of the bed as you drew yourself into his side. He didn’t remember you being this cuddly, but it was a change he was more than happy to welcome.

After a few minutes, when he’d thought you had fallen asleep, your voice pierced through the quiet of your bedroom.

“You’re gonna be someone's dad,” you muttered into his pajamas. Fuck. He was, wasn’t he?

“You’re gonna be someone’s mom,” he shot back.

“Weird,” you responded. “I think you’ll be really good at it.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Definitely.”

And of course Steve was still fucking terrified. Terrified of the monsters, and of his dad, and of all the different ways this could go south, but he had you tucked up against his chest, and he was gonna be someone’s dad, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care about any of the scary stuff. In this moment, for the first time in as long as Steve could really remember, the underlying current of fear that ran along his thoughts was finally overpowered by just how much he fucking adored you.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @e0509 @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @plk-18 @hoesbloated

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things imagines #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x f!reader

[bleach-your-panties]

Kinktober Day 7 💋 with Shoto Todoroki

Warnings: praise, dirty talk (that's somehow sugary sweet still because it's Shoto), overstimulation (ofc), oral (f! receiving), dacryphilia, fingering, penetration, Shoto uses his quirk (ofc), pool sex, multiple orgasms, swimwear kink? 

—-

▶️: dive in - trey songz

▶️: wet the bed - chris brown ft. ludacris

—-

—-

Ooo, I'm about to dive in 

Woah, oh, oh, oh

---

Splash.

This is your third lap around the school's Olympic-sized swimming pool. You're preparing yourself for UA's upcoming swim meet against Ketsubutsu University.

Along with Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, Kaminari, Sero, Uraraka, and Ojiro, you were quite enthused when UA decided to implement competitive sports teams. It was quite refreshing for you, a business major with a love for sports.

With the breadth of the hero course's curriculum, you really couldn't see how they'd even have the time for sports outside of hero training, but they seemed to all make it work somehow.

Including your boyfriend, Shoto.

He's a part of UA University's Big Three along with Midoriya and Bakugou and also on the men's swim team with them.

That was how the two of you met and started dating. At your first swim meet against Shiketsu College.

Of course you knew of the infamous Todoroki son from high school's sports festivals and the like, but you had zero interactions with him or any of his classmates due to your differing course schedules at the time.

Now that you all are in college, the course requirements cause students with all different majors to mesh together, as they all share many of the same prerequisite classes needed in order to graduate with a full academic degree.

Once you started dating, Shoto's cold (no pun intended) outer exterior began to melt away (also no pun intended) as you began to worm your way right into his heart.

After you finished your final lap, you pulled yourself out of the pool to sit on the stone steps that led out of it.

Wringing out your wet hair, you pulled it off your shoulders and up into a messy bun with a few pieces hanging in your face.

"Well, that should just about do it for today." You triumphantly told yourself, your chlorine-soaked face twisting up ever so slightly into a confident smile as you thought about winning the meet and then going out afterwards to celebrate with all your friends.

And with Shoto.

—

The sound of your gym locker slamming shut echoed around the empty changing room. With your heavy school and gym bags slung over either shoulder, you were ready to make your way back to the dorms.

"Going somewhere, little lamb?"

A deep, sultry voice cooed out from somewhere behind you.

You turned abruptly, slightly startled by the tone of the all-too familiar male's icy tone.

"Hey, Sho. What's up? I didn't know that you guys had practice this evening." 

He stepped from around the corner, his tall, lean, 6'2" frame approaching you swiftly thanks to his long, muscled legs. 

No doubt he's the fastest swimmer on the men's team with those legs.

His bi-colored hair, split perfectly down the middle, was dribbling water down his forehead. A white towel slung over his neck soaked up any remaining droplets as your eyes moved from his forehead down to his heterochromatic eyes, his bare chest, washboard abs, and finally…

His raging hard-on that was all-too perspicuous in those tight, spandex navy blue, white, and red shorts.

A ghost of a smirk upturned his top lip as he watched you check him out. He even shook his head a bit from side to side, making water fly off of his hair in random directions.

"That's because we didn't. Coach had to leave early because of a family emergency."

"O-oh? Well, that's unfortunate to hear." 

"Mhm."

Before you knew it, Shoto had your back pinned against the lockers. His lips ghosted up your neck, while his sneaky fingers went to grasp your right breast, massaging the nipple through your thin white T-shirt until it was hard.

Your hands came up to wrap around his neck, but he grabbed them up in his other hand and pinned them above your head.

"Mmm, Shoto, what's all this, daddy?" You cooed, eyes dilating while watching him.

"Been wanting you all day. When you texted me that you had practice this afternoon, all I could think about was you in your bathing suit. Soaking wet, nipples hardening when they hit the air, and perfectly outlining your pussy. I don't even know how the school allows you to wear these skimpy ass things, but I'm not complaining."

You giggled and angled your face to kiss his jaw, which made him blush.

So he was still your bashful, cute Shoto, even while overcome with undeniable lust for you. Perfect.

"Let my arms down, Sho. Want to blow your big cock, baby~"

Shoto recovered from his blush almost instantaneously and shook his head.

"No can do, beautiful. I have to have your pussy in my mouth right now.

He growled under his breath, almost inaudibly, and moved to pull your athletic shorts down to your knees. You stepped out of them, leaving your fat, swimsuit-covered pussy on display.

"You didn't shower yet?"

Your turn to blush now as you shook your head.

"I was g-going to once I made it to the dorms." 

"Don't fret, darling. I only ask because I want to eat this pussy fresh out of the pool."

Damn was he turning you on! He could eat you however and wherever he wanted to at this point! 

"Go ahead, Sho. Do whatever you want to me.."

He clicked his tongue and lowered himself to his knees, finally letting your arms go. You sighed in relief and threaded your fingers through his soft, wet hair.

"Whatever I want? Be careful what you ask for, pretty. Jump."

You did as he asked; he caught you under the thighs and pushed you further up against the locker, which was uncomfortable, but you couldn't be bothered to care.

Especially not when Shoto started sucking on your lower lips through your swimsuit. 

"Ooooh, Sho, that feels good, daddy… don't stop!"

He wasn't going to.

Shoto balanced your thighs over his shoulders and you let yourself rest on them while he took a hand to move the now-saliva-soaked material covering your pussy aside to rub your clit with his fingers.

You didn't know how long you'd be able to last like this. Shoto's fingers were like fucking magic where making you come undone was concerned.

"Yeah, that feel good, baby? Want me to put them inside?" 

His heterochromatic eyes were locked on your e/c ones as he began rubbing more vigorously, holding your clit between his middle and ring fingers with his entire palm covering your labia.

"Y-y-yessss, shit! So good, baby!" 

"Fuuuccck, you're already shaking. You missed me today, yeah?" 

No answer from you.

"Come on. Blink once for yes, twice for no." 

One blink.

"Good girl~" Shoto took his fingers off your clit and angled them upwards before sticking them inside you.

Your back fell off the locker, but Shoto caught you, chuckled, and positioned you back against it. He lifted your right leg up, pressed it against your chest and let your foot rest beside his head.

"How do you want it, baby girl?" He asked sweetly before he pressed a few soft, wet kisses to your inner thigh.

"Come on, talk to me." He then slapped your thigh, which woke you up from your dumbstruck haze.

"W-want both…want it all…need it all, Sho."

He smirked and suddenly you felt his fingers turn ice cold as he plugged them deep inside your core, making you choke out a few moans.

"Sh-FUCK!"

"Ooo yeah, love it when I make you curse, baby." 

He then switched hands, faster than the speed of light and now you were filled with a satisfying warmth. It wasn't long before you were gushing all over his hand.

"That's one. Come here, baby. Let me lay that perfect body down."

Shoto pulled you off the wall and hoisted you over his shoulder.

"You trust me to try something?" He asked as he patted your butt while he carried you out to the pool.

"Mhm, trust you with my life, Sho." 

That warmed his heart and made him genuinely smile.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, Sho."

Shoto situated you at the edge of the pool. You dipped your legs in while he sat on his knees in front of you, half-submerged in the water.

"So pretty, looking like a fucking princess on her throne." He praised, rubbing your legs with both hands while he bent to kiss your knees all the way up your thighs.

"How long do you think I can hold my breath underwater?"

"H-huh?"

He didn't answer you; instead, Shoto moved his head between your legs and used his teeth to move your swimsuit aside. One hand pulled it and held it out of the way while his mouth ravished you.

You mewled, head thrown back, one elbow placed against the slippery, wet step to balance yourself. Shoto took your leg and brought it to his shoulder again, holding it while he made a mess of your pussy.

Licking and sucking softly, his lips moved like he was French-kissing you on the mouth.

"Sho, shit! That's so good, baby. Fuck, eat me out, just like that~♡!" 

His entire head was in between your legs as if breathing meant nothing to him.

Your thighs began to shake again but he held fast, spreading you open wider as he went wild between them. 

His red and white hair shook from side to side as he ate you with vigor like you were the last thing he'd ever taste.

"SHOTO!"

"Mmmmhmmm.…"

He hummed on your pussy, making it vibrate. That was the last straw for you. 

He had to grip both thighs tight in order to keep you from tumbling over into the pool head first. You squirted again, making his eyebrows shoot up. 

When you came down from your high, Shoto's entire face was drenched, which made you blush.

"So good, baby. You did a perfect job, my love."

He didn't even bother to wipe his face before dragging you by the hips to rest right on the last step. Your lower half was now submerged in a shallow bit of water.

"One more for me, baby. Can you cum one last time on my cock? Hmm, pretty baby?"

You nodded eagerly, though you felt the strength rapidly leaving your body. 

Shoto lowered his swim trunks, your eyes watching his every movement until his cock finally popped out.

It's so long; pretty and thick with a fat, pink tip. Pre-cum ran down the shaft only making you want to get up on your knees and lick it up.

"Spread your legs a little, baby. Just like that. Stay right there."

He gripped it in his right hand, stroking a little before tapping it on your clit, making the little bud jump in excitement.

"Sho, no teasing, please….need you…"

"You have me, baby. Oh God, do you have me…" He whispered softly, eyes totally focused on easing his dick head into your cunt.

A shiver coursed through your entire body once Shoto was inside. He used his left side to warm you up, making your belly flare with heat once he began stroking.

Stroke left.

"Sho…"

He knew you were on the verge of breaking down.

Switch it up, now he's moving slowly, thrusting deeply in you, swirling his hips, making the water splash around your waist as his dick is now as cold and hard as a freezer pop.

"Sho!"

"Yes…" He coached as his eyes watched you like a hawk: your facial expressions, your breathing. Everything. He wanted to see it all. To watch you completely unravel, just for him. Only for him.

Stroke right.

His own thighs were beginning to burn from how much work he was putting in, but with his stamina, he could last another two rounds only if you were able to handle it.

Which you're not.

"God, Shoto…" 

"Yeah, baby. Call for me. Are you cumming?" 

Your stomach was tense, jaw slacked, and thighs sore from being held open for so long.

"I said are you cumming, Y/n? Answer me, baby girl. Do you want me to stop? Stop you from getting that nut?"

Tiredly but eagerly, you shook your head no.

"Then answer my question. Are you close?" 

"Y-yes." 

"What's that?" 

"Y-yes! Yes Shoto, I'm so close! I can't take it anymore, please just give me your cum!" You cried, tears bubbling at your lash line and threatening to spill over.

He had the nerve to chuckle. God, how he loved your tear-stricken face. Loved to see and hear you go delirious on his cock.

"You want my cum? You have to give me something first, precious. You know what I want." 

"I can't, Sho…please..!" 

"You can. I'm going to help you, baby…help you lose it on my fucking cock." 

He spread you impossibly wider, making you almost do a complete split as he drilled his cock into you.

That wasn't all though, oh no.

As he fucked you senseless, he alternated the temperature of his dick with each thrust.

The moans you let out were very hot and pornographic. If anyone out in the hallway was to walk by, they'd most certainly know that you were getting fucked and by whom you were getting fucked.

You couldn't stop chanting Shoto's name, and he wouldn't stop thrusting.

"Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Fuck! That's good…. I feel it, baby, oh shit! Feel you clenching on me, unnghhhh, goddamnit….!"

The water sloshed all around the both of you and you let out one final, long scream of Shoto's name. Your squirt shot out of your pussy and splashed high against his abdomen.

After seeing and feeling you squirt all over his dick, Shoto came hard as hell, filling you to the brim with his nut.

With his last bit of strength, he pulled the two of you up and out of the water and fixed his shorts back up on his hips.

He pulled you against his chest and peppered the side of your head with soft kisses.

"Did so good for me, my baby. So proud of you."

You could barely hear him, but you smiled. You almost fell asleep in his arms until he nudged you back awake.

"What is it, Sho?" 

Your eyes followed his to a black, white, and red sign depicting a stick figure running with a red circle and slash mark going through the image.

Shoto smirked.

"No Running in the Pool Area." 

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

#kinktobercandyshop'23🍭 #kinktober 2023 #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x female reader #todoroki shoto #shouto todoroki #shouto smut #shoto smut #shoto todoroki smut #shotou todoroki x reader smut #shoto todoroki x reader smut #mha shoto #shoto todoroki x female reader smut #shouto todoroki x female reader smut #i was really not liking this while writing it #until i got to the end #now i am somewhat satisfied with it #💗💗🍡°my fics #💗💗🍡°mha masterlist #byp🌹

[offender42085]

Post 944

Kyle Steven Boldrey, Michigan inmate 423368, born 1991, incarceration intake in 2017 at age 25; earliest possible release date 08/25/2038, maximum discharge date 08/25/2066

Murder, 2nd Degree

In 2017, behind the prosecution table, 11 men and women quietly but palpably longed for the two missing men who they would never see again.

Behind the defense table, 11 men and women sat in support of a loved one at the beginning of many years of bars and cement block walls.

Between them stood a young man who, according to police and the prosecution, in 2016 ingested a drug and brutally murdered an elderly man and his own childhood friend.

Another hearing was held in February 2019, in which that afternoon, Kyle Boldrey, 26, was resentenced for the 2016 murders of Keith Atkinson and Trevor Hubbard, murders police said Boldrey committed while under the influence of a synthetic hallucinogen called 25i-NBOMe.

Judge Michael Mack of the 26th Circuit Court handed down a sentence of 22 to 50 years for each of two counts of second-degree murder, to be served concurrently.

The court already sentenced Boldrey once. In October 2017, Mack assigned Boldrey 25 to 50 years in prison, exceeding the recommended guidelines because of the brutality of the case.

Boldrey appealed the 2017 sentence, indicating that he had pleaded no contest under a misunderstanding about the number of years to which he could be sentenced. At the second hearing, Boldrey formally withdrew his plea and entered a second no-contest plea, this time under full understanding of what might lie in his future because of his decision in the past.

A no-contest plea is not an admission of guilt, but an admission that the charges cannot be fought. It is treated as a guilty plea for sentencing purposes.

At the heart of the crime was the hallucinogen 25i-NBOMe, known by it street name of “N-Bomb.” Now fallen out of favor, the drug had a spike in popularity four or five years ago, when it was sought out as a substitute for LSD, according to the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services. The drug sometimes leads to very extreme physical effects, with even minuscule amounts leading to seizures, cardiac and respiratory arrest, and death, according to the federal Drug Enforcement Administration.

Medical examiner reports studied by the DEA, as well as news items out of Britain and Australia, reveal stories of violent behavior leading to death as a result of ingestion of 25i. Teens and young adults have died when the drug caused them to burst into violence, flinging themselves at poles or walls or tearing up the inside of a vehicle before dying with very little internal evidence of the drug’s presence.

In Montmorency County in 2016, Boldrey decided to try 25i. The drug was given to him by Hubbard as they celebrated their upcoming adventures – Hubbard’s impending departure for college and Boldrey’s entry into the U.S. Air Force.

Shortly after ingestion, Boldrey exploded into a rage. He stabbed Hubbard and struck him with a vehicle, then broke into the home of Atkinson, who died trying to defended his wife, Debbie Wells, and Jeffrey Bauer, who was also in the home. Wells and Bauer survived but were beaten badly.

Eyes were dabbed with Kleenex on both sides of the courtroom at the second hearing as Boldrey gave a statement to the court before his sentencing. At his last sentencing, he said he tried to minimize his behavior, distancing himself from the thing he had done.

Now, though, he wanted to take ownership of his flawed thinking and bad decisions, of the fear and hurt that he had caused to strangers and to people he loved.

“I caused a whole community to feel unsafe,” Boldrey said. “It should have never happened. And it’s my fault.”

Boldrey’s attorney, Dan White, shared that, while in prison, his client has agreed to help with a drug and violence awareness program, a law enforcement effort to keep children and young adults from making the kind of mistake Boldrey made.

Behind the defendant, his mother and father watched their son silently, knowing that, whatever Mack’s decision, their child would still walk out of the room wearing chains.

3y

[aureliatm]

victoria justice. cis woman. she/her. ━━ there goes aurelia cortes leaving their home in seagate district. the twenty-nine year old from austin, texas works as a party planner & entrepreneur. i’ve heard that they are exuberant & generous but can also be chaotic & unrealistic. they remind me of the cheer that accompanies a toast in a crowded bar & buying your favorite flowers for yourself as a form of self care.

hi - diddly - do, neighborinos ! your friendly neighborhood maeby (26, they/she, mst) coming in hot and so stoked to be here ♡ i’m bringing my wildest, best time - iest lil pea, aurelia ! so without further ado…

STATS

given name: aurelia ruth cortes nicknames: aureli, reli, lia zodiac: sagittarius sun, libra moon, aries rising identifies as: bisexual, biromantic cis woman favorites: sunset color palettes, extra sweet palomas, metallic letter & number balloons, wheatgrass shots and smoothies loaded with unnecessary boosters to cure hangovers, disco naps, the spot, mama cass elliot, vintage shops & 70s aesthetics hobbies: picturesque nature hikes, karaoke nights, fulfilling the wildcard category on her trivia team, drunken online shopping, throwing the most extravagant birthday parties for her friends, harmless flirting, axe throwing and rage rooms, bartending at other peoples' parties, getting impulse tattoos at lucky four

BIOGRAPHY

(tw: childhood cancer, hospitalization)

No one knows or loves a good time like the Cortes family. Even when it was just the Cortes parents, Mateo and Linda-Mae, before they were parents, every dwelling they occupied was the life of the neighborhood. Aurelia was born in ‘93, followed by her sister Marisol in ‘95, and the party just kept going. Things were hard outside their four cozy walls – heck, they owned a barbecue stand and catering company, two of the most risky business ventures an entrepreneur can undergo. But they never let it impact their life at home.

Then Marisol got sick. The sweetest kid in the entire world, and there wasn’t anything Aurelia could do but watch from the sidelines. One day, something just clicked inside her. She brought all two dozen of her Barbies and GI Joes to Marisol’s hospital bed, and put on the musical theatre production of a lifetime. No longer would she sit idly by and let her sister go through it alone. Aurelia was a clown, a comedian, an entertainer, a storyteller, and anything else she could think of to get a laugh out of her.

Even after Marisol went into remission in ‘07 and Aurelia’s life became more about herself than her sister, she hung onto that deeply extra personality. After spending the majority of the last four years cooped up, she overcorrected and went full speed ahead into a wild phase she never grew out of. At first it was just sneaking out of the house, sneaking into concerts, sneaking a cheeky klepto treasure every now and then, but as she grew older, the petty rebellions just weren’t enough. It had never been about rebelling against her parents and had always been about making the most out of every moment she was lucky enough to have.

College opened all new kinds of doors for our adrenaline junkie, and when she got into UCLA, it seemed she was destined for a truly legendary four years. The prophecy was fulfilled and she left college with a degree (somehow, she’s still not sure), four years worth of insane memories, and all the skills and experience necessary to start planning genuinely extravagant parties in the city. After planning one of her friends’ wedding with the help of her college best friend, a Mellott Beach native who introduced her to the town, she was sure there wasn’t any party they couldn’t handle.

Now, seven years later, business is booming and Aurelia is still in love with the thrill of the hustle. Don’t get her wrong, Aurelia still finds time to spend holidays with family, take vacations with friends, and devote a lavish amount of time to self-care. But after going going going for so long, the hustle was starting to take its toll. Moving to Mellott Beach was a much needed change of pace. The drive to the city was still doable (an hour commute is nothing in Los Angeles), but relaxing her shoulders and just being able to breathe made the burnout that had once been inevitable drift further and further away.

Turn’s out, there’s more than enough adventure in Mellott Beach to keep Aurelia on her toes. And that’s what she calls the best of both worlds.

CONNECTION IDEAS

employees & regulars at the spot, the hanger, or the corner; aureli's favorite hangouts ♡

anybody who's ever hired et cetera events for their parties, weddings, or other celebrations ♡

a blast from the past from their upbringing in austin, tx ♡

the other members of the trivia team aureli is part of ♡

flings, crushes, exes, and anything in between ♡

anybody who needs a friendly face around, since aurelia sees the good (or at least the good time) in everyone ♡

people who really don’t get along with aurelia - she isn’t everyone’s cup of tea ♡

anything under the sun you might be vibing !

#mel.intro #❝ 𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 ⟶ about ❞

[steviefm]

[  chase  sui  wonders,  24,  she/her,  cisfemale  ]    ››   look,  stevie  chen  just  tweeted !   said  they're  going  on  tour  with  thieves  soon,  and  they  can't  wait  to  bump  celebrity  skin  by  hole  on  the  road.  they  mentioned  something  about  attempting  to  run  from  the  cops  in  every  city  too.  the  group's  sound engineer  is  known  to  be  magnetic  but  hot-headed,  so  it  makes  sense  lol.  anyway,  excited  to  see  them.

** tw: mentions of death below the cut. **

stevie chen was born november 12, 1997 in seattle, washington. she was not a wanted child — her parents were both barely 21, entering their senior year of college at UW. a baby was the last thing on their minds. and yet, laura and eric loved stevie deeply as soon as she arrived. they got married a year later, after laura graduated ( eric, try as he might, could not finish his business degree, and ended up dropping out with just a few credits remaining. )

yes, she was named after stevie nicks. and yes, her younger brother, born two years later, was named bowie after ziggy stardust himself. as it turned out, laura and eric weren’t entirely compatible — the sweet elementary school teacher and the grown-up frat boy, who would have guessed? — but the one thing they could agree on was music. 

their inevitable divorce, when stevie was 6, was amicable, and laura got full custody of both kids. eric had begun continued to drink heavily after college, and it was agreed laura could take better care of their kids. 

stevie grew up a bit of a rebellious child, with a lot of energy and nowhere to put it. it didn’t help that as bowie entered school, he was picked on, and little stevie fought fiercely to protect her brother. she got into trouble frequently at school, and laura was not having it, asking her to please think before she acted.

what stevie wanted, more than anything, was to be like her mom — sweet and kind and loving and talented. but try as she might, she had no talent for instruments, and her voice was tuneful but not beautiful. though laura never pushed her into music and performing, stevie could tell she was disappointed, and that hurt even more than when she was mad. 

even so, they were a tight-knit little family, them against the world, and stevie relied heavily on her mom. through her, she developed a love for music, particularly riot grrrl bands of the 90s — laura’s favorite.

however, their family was ripped apart when stevie was 13. on her way home from work, laura was involved in a car accident that put her in a coma. stevie and bowie spent weeks by her bedside until, having been informed that she was unlikely to recover, the family made the difficult decision to take her off life support. 

all the energy stevie had spent trying to be more like her mom, thoughtful and kind and generous? that evaporated with laura’s death. all she was left with was grief, and unending rage. 

stevie and bowie were sent to live with their father, having no other relatives in america who were willing to take on two grieving pre-teens. unfortunately, he intended to do little to take care of his children, leaving stevie to be the primary caregiver for her brother and her father. 

high school was difficult, as stevie worked two jobs to keep the lights on — one at a record store, the other moonlighting in audio engineering at concert events. the basement scene in seattle welcomed her in even with all her fire, and for the first time in a long time she managed to make some friends, including a few future members of thieves. plus, it meant she didn’t have to spend as much time at home. as it turned out, she wasn’t a musician, but she sort of had a knack for sound.  

she went off to college at berklee for two years on scholarship, but dropped out when she couldn’t make the money work anymore. it remains one of the biggest regrets in her life. ultimately, though, it led her back to thieves, and she’s been working with them ever since.

personality-wise, stevie is honestly a bit of a bitch — she’s very blunt, short-tempered, and can be straight up mean to people she doesn’t know. not to be cliche, but it’s a wall that guards away the damage inside and makes sure that her fears or being hurt or abandoned again will never be realized. 

if you do manage to get to know her, she is fiercely loyal and funny, and a truly caring person. she’s weirdly charming despite her negative qualities?? people do seem very drawn to her for some reason.

i will have a bio up soon >:) but here is her stats page and here are some wanted connection posts to inspire u 

#* ╱ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 !

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

TW: bullying, illness, suicidal ideation

Once when I was a little boy, my mother told me that I needed to be careful when I played with other children because I was bigger and stronger and I might hurt them. She said this realization hit me like thunder and I cried for hours and in that moment she knew I was a sensitive soul.

Once when I was a little girl, my mother told me the little boy on the playground who bullied me probably liked me and didn't know how to express it. Years later I sat down with her and explained that whether this was true or not, what I had need in that moment was for my mother to tell me that his behavior wasn't okay, and how how for all this time I had struggled to disentangle cruelty and affection. She cried and held me and acknowledged that she struggled with the same.

When I was a young lady, I brough home a young black man to meet my mother for a third date. She asked him about college and he explained he had dropped out due to years of struggle and to support his family after his father's death. She asked when he planned to return and he said he didn't. Afterwards we went to church and he and I snuch away to kiss in the memorial garden before service. As we sat in service, an elderly congregant told us we glowed with true love. He laughed and thanked her, I blushed and looked away. Ten years later, I introduced the same partner to my mother again, this time as my wife of 6 years. She asked about college again. I told her that degrees are just paper, and my wife is a human being full of love, passion, knowledge, and brilliance.

When I was a young man, a doctor told me she didn't know why I was sick, but I wasn't getting better. She said it was time for experimental treatments. I said I was afraid. She said fear makes sense. We'll do this on your time. But please understand your time is isn't what it once was. My wife held me while I cried and screamed and raged in the privacy of our home. I made her promise that if if my time came to and end, she wouldn't let it be slow and excruciated. She tried to refuse, and in my grief-ridden cruelty I wouldn't let her. She made me promise to try the treatments. They worked and I got better. There was nothing that could heal what I had broken except time.

As I lay on my second deathbed, I listened to the leaves rustle in the birch grove and knew peace I never had. This was slow too, creeping, painful, and without explanation. But I was surrounded by what I loved, and somehow I no longer cared. I lived a lifetime in whatever moments I had. And like magic, it ended as quickly as it began, like being renewed. I remembered the prayers I'd made before as a child and I repeated it in my head until I had the strength to stand.... Mi shebeirach avoteinu, m'kor hab'rahach l'imoteinu....

My world remains full of mysteries, challenges, doubts, and lessons, including many not yet even on the horizon. I face them knowing what I have faced before. Knowing that have been a match for every day this world has sent me so far.

And so do you.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 492, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death

WORDS: 1171

“Quiet! Don’t wake her up!”

I was awake at once, my heart pounding loudly in my chest as I feigned sleep.

THUD THUMP

THUD THUMP

THUD THUMP

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw… look at the cute little baby!”

“Hard to believe that Master Eric took her as his spiritual bride and she married another man!”

A wild gasp flew out of my mouth as my eyes flew open. The first things I saw were three copies of my childhood rapist’s face clustered around me.

“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living!”

I whimpered as one of the cult members reached into Baby Violet Marie’s hospital issued bassinet and took her out, bouncing her in his arms, getting a soft whimper out of her.

“I can see why Master Eric liked you,” continued another man, reaching out to touch my cheek. “I bet your pussy is-”

The next few seconds happened so fast, but the next thing I knew was that a horrifying roar exploded at the door before the three intruders began to fly all around the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DUMB SHITS DOING TERRORIZING MY WIFE AND NEWBORN DAUGHTER?” roared Peter as he battered the celt members around in a full rage.

Security rushed into the room as my older husband bashed two cult members’ head together, snarling and panting as he placed himself in front of my bed, blocking me from my harassers as he cradled our newborn daughter in his muscular arms.

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP screamed the monitor that was measuring my heartbeats, sending a duo of worried nurses racing into the otherwise chaotic room. I was gently forced back into the pillows and had an oxygen mask fitted over my face.

Peter I screamed. I want Peter, I want my husband-

“Sweetheart, oh my sweetheart,” my soulmate whimpered, nudging a nurse out of his way so that he could shuffle in closer to me. “What do you want from me?”

I need to suck my teddy cock.

“Sweetheart…” he grumbled as Baby Violet Marie woke up and started to fuss lightly. “I’ll just be over here, changing Baby Violet Marie’s diaper, okay? I’m not leaving you- I promise.”

I watched as he settled her onto the hospital issued changing station, looking comically out of proportion with my imposing in height soulmate as he changed her diaper, singing and making funny faces at her the whole while.

“Bum bum bum boo budda bum,” he sang out before as he made a face at her and playfully poked at her tummy. “Yabba dabba doo!”

“How long have they been camped out in the waiting room?” I rasped out, loving how affectionate and sweet Peter was being to the result of our neverending love to each other.

“Since the morning after you were admitted to give birth,” a nurse told me, her voice honest and worn. “They have been quite literally terrorizing all who sets foot into the hospital and have been told to leave many times. We also had to call the police on several such occasions to have them forcibly removed from the property, but they still kept returning.”

I removed the oxygen mask from my face once more in order to ask a question. “But if the Eric Dessmor fan club is a terrorist organization classified by the FBI, then why haven’t they all been arrested at this point?”

“Hey there, I have my college degree in nursing, not criminal justice!” teased the second nurse as she pressed a stethoscope to the pulse point in my wrist. “Your heart rate is still a little bit high, but I don’t think that’s really anything to worry about- not with all the unwanted stress that you’ve been under!”

“Thank you, ladies,” Peter sighed, turning back to face me with Baby Violet Marie looking like an adorably snug little bug in a rug from where she was cocooned in blankets against his manly chest.

“Is he truly as big are they say he is?” the first nurse wondered as she was retucking me back into bed.

“Shilo!” gasped the second nurse, smacking her in the backside of her head.

“What? You were wondering back at the nurse’s station!” tattled the first nurse with a huff. “Don’t you dare deny it!”

Shilo was dragged from the room by a bright red nurse, who couldn’t look either my grumbling husband or I in the eye.

I flopped backwards into my throne of pillows, roaring with giggles of mirth.

“I never should have done that fucking PlayGirl spread,” he bemoaned. “It was just a dumb publicity stunt that I did to pump up my music career.”

“Well, you do know that the kids will probably find those pictures one day, and when they do-” I started to point out, bursting out into laughter at the look that shot me.

“NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.” His nostrils flared out as he sulked about with Baby Violet Marie in his arms. “I will quite literally do anything- anything at all- to preserve our kid’s sense of childlike wonder and innocence.”

“But my love, those pictures are up on Google for everyone to see,” I informed him, accepting Baby Violet Marie in for a cuddle and to let her nurse from my tit. “And you know how curious kids can get. We can try our absolute best at shielding the kids from that part of your life, but it just simply will not ever be enough.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he glowered darkly.

I chuckled at his state of mind before turning to coo down at Baby Violet Marie, who had grasped onto a thick strand of bright red curls and was staring up at me with her mommy’s sapphire blue eyes.

“Baby Violet Marie, how old will you be when you first discover you father’s naughty pictures?” I asked her.

“NO!”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

#Real person fiction (RPF) #Tattooed Wings #Peter Thomas Ratajczyk #Type O Negative #Vanessa Rose Pickings/ little girl #Special needs baby #Aria Bradley #Evie Bradley #Deaf #American Sign Language (ASL) #Elizabeth Ratajczyk #Alopecia #Thomas Joseph Ratajczyk/ Baby Tommy #Autism #Katie Ratajczyk #Down’s Syndrome #Baby Violet Marie #Neonatal death #Matching tattoos soulmate AU

[newstfionline]

Thursday, April 6, 2023

Donald Trump, the attention economy’s most potent stimulus (AP) In the currency of today’s attention economy, Donald Trump is the world’s richest man. His media-engulfed arraignment in New York was an out-of-court Exhibit A. In returning to the no-business-like-show-business metropolis that propelled him to tabloid-fodder fame so many years ago, the former president also returned to the very stage where he thrives the most. Love him? Hate him? Don’t care? Doesn’t matter. Just like during his presidency, he commands notice. Still. Thousands of New York City police officers, the U.S. Secret Service and swarms of journalists deployed across lower Manhattan can all attest to that. The American preoccupation with big, loud storylines was on full display Tuesday as anchors, pundits and sources talked and talked and talked. In the arena of the American attention economy, where the fighting forever rages, Donald J. Trump remains a potent force. Commanding attention has been his world, and politics is a realm of attention. Whether the legal realm, which he has successfully avoided until now, will be anywhere near the same for him may be another reality entirely.

Pandemic pounds push 10,000 U.S. Army soldiers into obesity (AP) After gaining 30 pounds during the COVID-19 pandemic, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Daniel Murillo is finally getting back into fighting shape. Early pandemic lockdowns, endless hours on his laptop and heightened stress led Murillo, 27, to reach for cookies and chips in the barracks at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. Gyms were closed, organized exercise was out and Murillo’s motivation to work out on his own was low. Murillo wasn’t the only service member dealing with extra weight. New research found that obesity in the U.S. military surged during the pandemic. In the Army alone, nearly 10,000 active duty soldiers developed obesity between February 2019 and June 2021, pushing the rate to nearly a quarter of the troops studied. Increases were seen in the U.S. Navy and the Marines, too.

Community Colleges (The Hechinger Report) Two-year community colleges have had a rough decade, with enrollment down 37 percent since 2010, down 2.6 million. Community colleges are an important part of the higher ed ecosystem, not only offering education at a substantially lower price point—averaging $3,860 in tuition and fees versus $10,940 at four-year public universities and $39,400 at private ones—but also supporting people who are the first in their families to pursue higher ed, with 29 percent being the first to go to college. There are some issues: a hot job market reducing the value of an associate degree is one, but the other is that many community colleges aren’t delivering for students, with four of five entrants planning to get a bachelor’s degree but only one in six getting one.

For McCarthy and Taiwan’s leader, visit marks historic first (AP) The moment will be historic—a U.S. House speaker meeting with the president of Taiwan for a rare visit on American soil, a high-profile encounter designed to boost support for the island government but already drawing blowback from an enraged China. For Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-wen the meeting Wednesday with House Speaker Kevin McCarthy at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in California is the most sensitive stop on her transit through the U.S. and Central America, a whirlwind diplomatic mission that is delicate, secretive and politically fraught. But for the newly elected House speaker it is the start of his foray into foreign affairs. The Republican leader has focused more on domestic politics at home than international concerns abroad. Outspoken, even bellicose, against China, McCarthy sends a potentially provocative nod of support to Taiwan with the meeting. It is the first known visit between a House speaker and a Taiwan president on American territory since the U.S. broke off formal diplomatic relations with Taiwan in 1979, experts said.

Macron and Europe hedge their bets on China (Washington Post) A curious geopolitical conjunction will take place this week. On the same day Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) meets Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-wen in California, French President Emmanuel Macron is set to land in China on a major three-day tour of the country and meetings with Chinese President Xi Jinping. The parallel encounters offer a snapshot of the West’s yin and yang over China: On one hand, a hardening hawkishness toward Beijing’s one-party regime, rooted in distrust of its ambitions and intentions; on the other, a recognition of the need to engage and maintain partnerships with the rising Asian superpower and economic titan, no matter the political atmosphere. Macron goes to China on a complicated mission, keen to enlist Xi in the pursuit of checking Russia’s invasion of Ukraine while hoping to expand and boost ties on the economic front. Macron is also going in force, joined by both his finance and foreign ministers as well as a delegation of more than 50 business leaders from prominent French companies, including nuclear energy group EDF and aviation juggernaut Airbus.

In Ukraine, the grief-stricken bear the pain of war (AP) Mothers burying their sons, children burying their fathers. As the war in Ukraine enters its second year, men and women have been dying in droves on the front lines, fighting off Russia’s invasion of their country. For them, the fight is over. They paid the ultimate price. But it is their parents, their children, their siblings and their spouses who will carry the pain of war, the tears of the nation. The funerals happen day after day, week after week, in villages and cities across Ukraine as those killed on the battlefield return home for the last time.

UN: Ban on Afghan female staffers by Taliban unacceptable (AP) The U.N. said Wednesday it cannot accept a Taliban decision to bar Afghan female staffers from working at the agency, calling it an “unparalleled” violation of women’s rights. The statement came a day after the U.N. said it had been informed by Afghanistan’s ruling Taliban that Afghan women would no longer be allowed to work for the world body. That announcement came after the U.N. mission in the country expressed concern that its female staffers were prevented from reporting to work in eastern Nangarhar province. The Taliban decision is “an unparalleled violation of women’s rights, a flagrant breach of humanitarian principles, and a breach of international rules,” Wednesday’s statement said. The U.N. statement said several U.N. national female personnel have already experienced restrictions on their movements, including harassment, intimidation and detention.

How tiny, cheap smart speakers unlocked the rise of digital payments in India (Rest of World) Abbas Ali, a vegetable vendor in an upscale neighborhood in New Delhi, started accepting digital payments in 2021. But every time a customer paid online, the 48-year-old, who can neither read nor write, would need to call his son to confirm that the payment had been received. Eventually, a fellow vendor suggested he subscribe to a “sound box”—a nifty internet-connected device that reads out payment confirmation messages. The sound box device has been a runaway hit among small Indian businesses. Most sound boxes can read out payment confirmation messages in English and multiple Indian languages, such as Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, Bengali, and Punjabi. Sound boxes have grown popular in tandem with digital payments. The volume of UPI transactions in the country grew from 20 million in the 2017 financial year to 60 billion by the third quarter of the 2023 financial year, and the value of UPI transactions made in the same period skyrocketed from over $121 million to over $1.2 trillion, the data shows.

China watches Trump courtroom drama: A ‘premium show without paywall’ (Washington Post) The unprecedented scenes of former president Donald Trump’s arraignment in New York and his furious response afterward fascinated the Chinese internet Wednesday, with some seizing the chance to slam U.S. democracy and many more simply binge-watching a “premium show without paywall.” Chinese state media—which generally likes to play up problems in the United States, from school shootings through Black Lives Matter protests to political mayhem that makes democracy look messy—also prominently featured news of the extraordinary 34 felony charges against Trump, who spearheaded a trade war with China during his four years in office. Trump’s arraignment “epitomizes social divide, systemic alienation, and political and cultural decay” in the United States, which is turning into a “Divided Nations of America,” wrote a reporter for the state-run Xinhua News Agency. CCTV, China’s main broadcaster, relayed the latest in its hourly news updates, and all major Chinese outlets sent out alerts on developments. Trump’s remark during his defiant Mar-a-Lago news conference that the United States was “going to hell” trended on Weibo, the microblogging site that is equivalent to Twitter, and sparked suggestions that the United States was on the brink of another civil war.

New images from inside Fukushima reactor spark safety worry (AP) Images captured by a robotic probe inside one of the three melted reactors at Japan’s wrecked Fukushima nuclear power plant showed exposed steel bars in the main supporting structure and parts of its thick external concrete wall missing, triggering concerns about its earthquake resistance in case of another major disaster. The plant’s operator, Tokyo Electric Power Company Holdings, has been sending robotic probes inside the Unit 1 primary containment chamber since last year. The new findings released Tuesday were from the latest probe conducted at the end of March. About 880 tons of highly radioactive melted nuclear fuel remain inside the three reactors. Robotic probes have provided some information, but the status of the melted debris is still largely unknown. The amount is about 10 times the damaged fuel that was removed in the cleanup of the Three Mile Island nuclear plant in the United States after its 1979 partial core meltdown.

Violence in Jerusalem at mosque raises fear of more fighting (AP) Israeli police stormed into the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem’s Old City early Wednesday, firing stun grenades at Palestinian youths who hurled firecrackers at them in a burst of violence during a sensitive holiday season. Palestinian militants in Gaza responded with rocket fire on southern Israel, prompting repeated Israeli airstrikes. The fighting, coming as Muslims mark the holiday month of Ramadan and Jews prepare to begin the Passover festival on Wednesday evening, raised fears of a wider conflagration. Similar clashes two years ago erupted into a bloody 11-day war between Israel and the ruling Hamas militant group in Gaza. The official Palestinian news agency Wafa said that dozens of worshippers who were spending the night praying were injured in the police raid. The Israeli military said one soldier was shot in a separate incident in the occupied West Bank.

South Africa fights to keep phone networks up as lights go out (Reuters) On a recent Friday morning north of Johannesburg, the head of South Africa’s largest telecoms company surveyed the arsenal of backup systems keeping just one of his 15,000 network towers online amid the worst power cuts on record. A diesel generator. Solar panels. A bank of expensive backup batteries, theft-proofed within a block of concrete. “Our costs have gone through the roof,” lamented Sitho Mdlalose, managing director of Vodacom South Africa. As the national power grid crumbles, leaving Africa’s most advanced economy in the dark for up to 10 hours a day, mobile operators are scrambling to ensure their networks stay up and running. At stake: essential voice and data services in a nation where landlines are rare but nearly 80% of residents have access to mobile internet.

#headlines #news

[subjecta5newtella]

alright fuck it it’s been about a week the blinding rage has simmered down into a tasteful anger stew so I’m gonna talk about the crank palace a little. technically this is probably spoilery, but I don’t really go into specific plot points

there’s... a lot of shit I can point to that’s wrong in the crank palace. blatant contradictions to things in the original trilogy. pacing. weirdly explicit descriptions of violence. some truly baffling choices made when it comes to dialogue. newt forgetting glader slang for some reason? everything about how sonya and newt’s sibling relationship is handled, which is still probably something I can’t talk about without going nuclear so i’m just gonna direct you to point 4 on sami newtedison’s excellent post here. 

some of these things just make it hard to read and enjoy from a technical perspective, and some of them show that there wasn’t enough care taken to make sure basic established in-universe facts weren’t directly overwritten. while all of those are warning flags in their own right, the issue at the core of tcp is, in my distinctly less than humble opinion, that newt himself is barely a character in his own novella.

obviously at the point where the story starts, he’s not going to be the exact same newt we’ve seen throughout the trilogy. partly that’s because we’re now actually in his perspective, partly it’s because the flare is progressing so quickly, and that would create some understandable differences. the problem here is not just that he’s kind of different; the problem is he’s hardly an actual character at all.

one of The Most Basic things about characters is that their history has an impact on them. this is not fucking groundbreaking, but I say this because I literally do not think it’s achieved here. aside from his resurfacing memories (which... even then is basically all stuff we already know from tfc) we do not learn anything about newt that is not established in the trilogy, which is an incredible waste. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that when people have expressed interest in newt’s POV, it’s to get information we don’t have from the earlier books, like his time in the glade, conversations he had that thomas didn’t see, anything we couldn’t see or easily extrapolate from thomas’ perspective.

thomas in book 1 has no memories. newt, theoretically, has over two years of them at this point, so why doesn’t it feel like his pre-series past exists any more than thomas’ does? i’m not about to subject myself to a reread just to 100% fact check this, but I don’t think we get any meaningful recollection of his time in the glade before main series canon begins. there would’ve been plenty of opportunities for these kinds of things to be woven in naturally, but more crucially, there are a couple places where I think pieces of his past should have absolutely come up, and they just... don’t. 

newt obviously has leadership experience as the glade’s second in command, and yet in tst is very vocal about not wanting to be the leader. when he’s kind of thrust into a leadership position in tcp, both of those things should affect the way he acts, and yet they don’t really seem to. if we’re looking for places to sprinkle in memories, this would be a really good one. he could be thinking about the point at which he became alby’s second, the reasons he accepted, and the anxieties associated with that, all in relation to his current situation. in tcp, becoming the leader of the group of cranks is just... straight up something that happens to him because he was a WICKED subject, with no real internal strife about it. I do not like the vibe of this whole plot point anyway, but im not gonna get into that. 

in a similar vein, I swear to god dashner forgot newt used to be a runner, because there are times where it should have logically come up. there’s a point at which newt talks about minho as a runner while giving absolutely no indication that he himself also used to be one, even though during the situation in question it would be relevant for him to have the skills and memories of his time as a runner (you could argue this was forgotten in any meaningful way as of tst because a similar thing happens, but i’m not gonna go on that rant rn). this is a crucial fucking character piece! based on a loose timeline, newt was a runner until probably ~6 months before tcp. it should have an impact on the way he acts and the way he evaluates situations.

regarding minho himself, newt’s descriptions of him feel like he read the wikipedia page, not like this was a) someone he’s been through over 2 years of highs and lows with and b) one of his only surviving friends in the first place, let alone one of the only ones from that original group. and minho’s hardly the only one that gets fucked over. alby? newt’s best friend as of the first book, with whom he co-ran the glade and who literally saved his life? mentioned once, as part of a list of the dead. those are the two that immediately come to mind as deserving better based on the way we’ve seen newt interact with them previously, but none of newt’s dynamics with existing characters feel lived-in at all. I think that contributes significantly to the fact that he feels so off, and frankly, not really wildly compelling a lot of the time despite being one of the most interesting and well written trilogy characters (there’s also times where his dialogue is just... weird and ooc, but im trying to stay out of nitpicking to that degree).

and to what end?? was dashner just too lazy to write in anything more than what’s established after this long? was it because creating any too-meaningful relationships with other characters could potentially take away from the thomas/newt dynamic that it seems like he’s relying on in order to stay relevant? even for people who go hard for newtmas, I can’t imagine it could really be considered a bonus to have one character’s past and other significant relationships stripped away. also?? even though he mentioned thomas’ name a lot, I don’t feel like we got that much of a sense of a meaningful connection there either. 

there were parts I liked about tcp, which may come as a fucking shock at this point, but still. keisha was a good character, a good break from the mold in terms of anything we’d seen before in the series, and I did honestly appreciate some of her interactions with newt. some of the minor characters were kind of interesting, and there were a couple small pieces that were... surprisingly well written? i think in terms of word choice and description, his writing has improved from what we see in the trilogy, so there’s my positive feedback. also, newt bitching about the lack of fruit and vegetable offerings at the crank palace was objectively funny as shit. one of the most genuine moments of Personality in the whole thing.

this could have been something. I think some pieces would’ve worked well as a short story, in which case I wouldn’t have expected nearly as much in terms of characterization and utilization of backstory. instead we just get a lot of suffering and not much out of it, because the one thing that could’ve made it worth it was an actual deeper understanding of this character and I truly don’t feel like we got that. 

#the crank palace #if you’re one of the people I’ve already ranted to I’m so sorry but at least this version is... cleaner #maybe #getting back into tmr is kind of fun in that I have gotten so much better at articulating my anger jkhfdsjkhdfjhk #love to be full of rage but with a College Degree #not that this like. Requires a college degree but still. it’s all gotta count for something might as well be this

[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

[marvelcriminalhoe]

Stumbling West

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Chapter 5

What They Say About Bikes

chapter summery: Training, dating, and bike rides.  i.e. season 7, episode 10 TW: talks of blood, death, typical criminal minds case jargon word count: 2,503

Series master list

Your lungs are on fire. With every breath you take, every time your lungs expand and deflate, the fire spreads, getting warmer, hotter. The coldish air still lingering in the morning daze outside does not help with the fire raging inside, and this is all Jack Garrett’s fault.

Though, he would tell you that you actually just need to run more, and he wouldn’t be wrong, but you don’t usually run 5 miles, in 60 degree weather, first thing in the morning. You haven’t even had your cup of coffee yet.

You also don’t run 5 miles in the field, so you don’t beat yourself up too much, for being so winded this morning.

Jack Garrett convinced you to run the FBI triathlon with him in a few months, with the promises that it would A. Be fun, B. Allow you guys to workout together, and C. Give you something to brag about.

But right now you are A. Not having fun, B. Having to workout alone because Jack is on a case, and C. Not bragging, because you realize you suck and instead will probably make a fool of yourself.

You finally finish your last lap around the park closest to your apartment, coming to a complete stop and resting your hands on your knees.

That’s supposed to help you breathe better right? Or are you supposed to put them on your head?

As you are debating the best method of getting the most oxygen back into your body, a pair of black running shoes come into your line of vision. Slowly ranking your eyes up the persons body to see who this intruder of space is, you come into contact with none other than Aaron fucking Hotchner, in all of his amazing glory.

See, your small attraction you had on your stoic, and yet, surprisingly charming boss, has slowly grown into a full blown, am I back in middle school, type of crush. Maybe it’s all of the sarcastic comments he makes under his breath during cases, that only you can here, or perhaps it has something to do with all those late nights you’ve been spending in his office, helping him with paperwork while bonding over Chinese takeout, or maybe, it’s that he is so attractive, and he doesn’t even know it, that it just makes him even more attractive.

He might be the person your closest to on the team. You’re both sarcastic, workaholics, with control issues. You are able to bond over similar trauma in a way no one else on the team would understand, except for maybe Rossi.

You’ve opened up to him a little about your late husband Zack. How you met your second year of college, his last, how you quickly fell in love, and, despite both of your parents wishes, we’re married 5 months later. He joined the CIA a year after your marriage, which would inevitably, lead to the catastrophic downfall of your relationship.

He similarly, opens up to about Haylee. How they met in high school and got married after graduating. How hard it was when he decided to leave his prosecution job and join the FBI. How scared he was when he found out she was pregnant with Jack.

Though, neither of you have opened up about the events of their deaths. The pain of losing your spouses, years before someone should. You both know each others stories, his from the team gossip, and yours from your file. Instead your talks are more about a bittersweet reminiscing, with someone that will actually understand, without the fear that they will push a boundary you aren’t ready for. You know it’s been 2 years for him since he lost Haylee, and going on 4 years for you, since you lost Zack, but theres not this pressure to talk about something you don’t want to. Boundaries were set long before either of you knew each other, and that safety in your relationship, is something you didn’t even know you needed.

He clears his throat, drawing you away from your thoughts, and you realize you’ve been staring at him like a fish out of water. He has a cocky little smirk on his face that makes you either want to roll your eyes or kiss it off.

You go for the former option. Sadly.

You take in his attire, running shorts and a fitted running long sleeve, that’s pushed passed his elbows, he doesn’t appear to be out of breath, and you can’t help but be envious, “Have you just started?”

His cocky smirk turns into an amused grin, “No. Just finished 6 miles.”

You frown at him.

6 miles. 6 miles and he looks like that? Did he even break a sweat? Does he even know what sweat is?

Scoffing, you can’t help but roll your eyes again, “Who are you, Jason Bourne? Why aren’t you out of breath like me? I ran one less mile than you.”

Laughing, he ignores your question for one of his own, “Why are you running 5 miles on a cold morning?”  

You put your hands on your hips, breathing better than a few minutes before, “Garrett convinced me to run some stupid triathlon with him in a few months. But now I’m forced to workout alone because if he’s not on a case, we are.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow at you, “That wouldn’t happen to be the FBI triathlon, would it?”

“Yeah.” You tell him questioningly, before it clicks in your brain, “No way. You’re doing it to? Oh that’s just great. Is everyone that’s doing it as in shape as you? Because I might as well drop out now.”

He laughs, shaking his head at you, “You’re not dropping out, I’m sure you’ll do fine. You still have a few months to train.”

“I’ve been training for the last 2 already.” You deadpan.

He grimaces, “How’s your swimming and biking?”

“Swimming is the best, my dad lives on the lake so I can practice in open water, though I’ll need to move indoors soon with the weather dropping. My biking is okay, we don’t have much time to really do that with our job and it’s faster to squeeze a run in before work.”

He nods along with you, “I feel the same way. My swimming is okay, I go to the Y, but my biking could use some work.” He places his hand on his hips, looking at you up and down, taking you all in, “Do you need some water?”

Oh my god he really is an angel.

“Please.” You graciously accept.

He nods towards the parking lot, silently telling you to follow him to his car. You both make light chatter about your mornings and where you usually run. Apparently this is also where he runs, his apartment being 5 minutes away, yours 10, just both in opposite directions.

When you get to his SUV he opens the back and grabs one of the water bottles from the case he keeps back there, for you, before also grabbing one for himself.

You take it gratefully, the water soothing any left over burn in your throat, before Hotch sets his own water down, clearing his throat, “You know, if you ever want to train together, I plan on going to a bike trail-“ He gets cut off from finishing, when his phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket he shows you the screen. Garcia.

Bad guys ruin everything.

“Wait so you asked her out?” Rossi questions him

Aaron knew he shouldn’t have said anything, Rossi is not subtle, and he has been hinting at him, more like demanding him, for the past few weeks to make a move on you. He’s refusing to take the excuse that Aaron is your boss and that it would be extremely inappropriate.

“I didn’t ask her out, we bumped into each other and she’s training for the same triathlon.” Hotch repeats himself.

Rossi scoffs at him, “Oh come on Aaron, that’s your in!”

“That is not my in.” Aaron deadpans. “I need to focus on my training, not be distracted.”

“Yes, you should be distracted, distraction is good. Office romance even better, take it form someone who’s had a few.” Rossi argues.

Aaron rolls his eyes at him, not dignifying his comment with a response, though that doesn’t stop Rossi from making another one, “And you know what they say about riding a bicycle.”

That makes Aaron give his friend an exhausted look as they both walk into the conference room.

“Who’s getting a Bicycle?” Reid asks from his spot by you. Aaron is praying his cheeks don’t heat up as he watches you look up at Reid confused, not having heard the conversation between Aaron and Rossi.

“Nobody.” Aaron has to try and not clear his throat, that would be a giveaway, “Let’s get started.”

You are sitting on the couch with JJ on the plane, while Garcia is on the laptop cam, Rossi, Reid, Emily, and Derek, at the table.

“Ok, Rossi, out with it.” Garcia draws your attention from the tablet in your hands, “Is Hotch dating?”

Rossi leans forward, “I. Don’t. Know.”

“You know statistically, widowed men start dating much faster than females, but Hotch is refuting the data. It's been two years and nineteen days.” You don’t even question Reid when he gives you the exact amount of time.

“Leave it alone.” You tell the gossip table, going back to your tablet. Honestly, you don’t want to talk about if he’s dating or not. Your stupid crush making you jealous at the idea that it could be true.

Wouldn’t he tell you? Maybe you’re not as close as you thought. Is that what your upset about? No.

Your command doesn’t stop Garcia from continuing the conversation as if she never heard you, “Venus has aligned with Mars which means love is in the air and maybe we will have weekends off.”

You see Hotch out of the corner of your eye, come out of the cockpit from talking to the pilot, and Derek clears his throat to try and stop Garcia, though he’s not fast enough, “What? Is he standing there? He's standing there isn't he?”

He leans down so she can see him, “Hello Garcia.” Before he takes a seat on the arm of the couch by you.

You both make eye contact, yours giving away amusement, his mock exhaustion, before Garcia begs someone to start talking about the case.

“I talked to the M.E. It turns out Sam was hit with a pipe about 10 times. Bruce was beaten over 30.” Reid tells you and Hotch as he walks into the conference room you were given at the precinct.

“That’s a drastic change.” You state, “Could be from the adrenaline.”

Hotch furrows his brows, continuing off of your thought, “Or an extremely high endurance level.”

“Could be overkill.” Derek says walking into the room with JJ.

“Doesn’t that usually mean there’s a personal relationship?” You ask, no one in particular.

Hotch nods at you, “If the victims didn’t know each other, it’s unlikely the unsub knew them.”

JJ crosses her arms, “So what would account for this level of blood-letting?”

“It could be about the blood itself.” Reid supply’s, “If he’s enjoying the killing, then he’s getting aroused by it and developing a kind of blood lust.”

You can’t control how your face scrunches up at the thought, as Hotch side eyes you. You see a ghost of a smile painting his face, his clear amusement for your antics.

Worth being grossed out.

Your at your desk, the case wrapping up fairly quickly, as you see Rossi leave Hotch’s office. He has a satisfied smile on his face, so you know whatever argument they may have had, he won.

You gather your after action report, along with everyone else’s, (they left them with you so they wouldn’t have to face Hotch after the plane embarrassment.) and make your way up to his office.

You knock on the door panel as He hangs up the phone gesturing you in, “Here’s all the reports.”

Raising an eyebrow at you he asks, “How did you get stuck turning everyone’s in?”

“They pulled seniority.” You reply flatly, but there’s no malice in your voice.

He gives you a soft smile and you return one, before turning around to head out the door. Your stopped by Hotch clearing his throat, making you turn back around with a questioning gaze.

“I was wondering, if your not busy tomorrow, if you would like to go on a bike ride.” His voice is soft, and if you weren’t a profiler, you would have missed the slight waver in the beginning.

Is he nervous?

He continues before you have the chance to answer him, “I just know you said you don’t have a lot of time for biking.”

You nod your head a few times, before giving him a shy smile, “Yeah. What time should I meet you?”

He looks almost shocked you agreed, before quickly masking it, “Is 9 good?”

“It’s perfect. See you then.” Really praying he can’t tell how flustered you are by him as you turn away, he only makes you more flustered by the whispered, “See you,” you hear as you walk out the door.

You and Hotch are both competitive. Extremely competitive. And what you were thinking would be a peaceful bike ride, quickly turned into a bike race, which you sadly lost.

But, you did just spend you an hour in the park, with your very attractive boss, who is in very attractive bike shorts, where he was smiling, the whole time. So you’re not too torn up about loosing.

You are now at a coffee shop, splitting a big muffin together, “Oh please, you completely cut me off at the end so I couldn’t pass you.”

Hotch chuckles at you, “You could have passed if you were determined.”

“And get whacked by a tree? No thank you.” Causing you both to laugh.

“I had fun today.” He tells you, very softly as if it was a secret he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

Smiling at him, you speak the same way, “Me to, Hotch”

“Aaron.”

“Pardon?” You question, not thinking you heard him right.

“You can call me Aaron, outside of work.” You can tell he is unsure with himself, so you reach across the table and grab the piece of muffin that was in his hand, before repeating yourself, “Alright. I had a good time with you today to, Aaron.” Eating the piece of muffin you stole.

He shakes his head at your antics, “I was going to suggest doing this again, but I don’t know if I can be around someone who steals my breakfast.”

You lean towards the table, taking another piece of the muffin, “It’s called sharing, Aaron, get used to it.”

And little do you know, Aaron thinks to himself, I already have.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #bau reader

[cevansbrat0007]

Honesty & A Sweet Moment

I know that I’ve been open about my relationship with my father. It’s not a good one, and I’m old enough to know that right now. I love him. He loves me. But to be totally cliche, love shouldn’t hurt. All of my immediate family, we are smart and successful. The only people in our full family, who, as a unit, have gone to college. I’m talking even the damned dogs had degrees.

I had to parent my siblings. More than normal. I’m the oldest.

But the way he spoke to me, to my mother, to even my siblings, as a woman, I realize it’s not okay. I’ve been slapped, choked, beaten, thrown - yes, thrown. Over the most basic shit. I’m talking about getting out late from school at eighteen, after letting him know because a fire alarm was going off and we couldn’t go back into the building until they could shut it off. He said he understood, because my school was thirty minutes away. My sibs and I went to different high schools. Three different high schools. 

I went to help a teacher when we were finally allowed back inside. My Dad apparently waited outside for an hour and then called me, and yelled, and screamed. He told me that I had better get outside NOW! He had a Blackberry. I had a Motorola. With the antenna.  

I told the school psychologist that “tonight was gonna be rough.”

“I’ve been through a hundred emails!” He’s a CEO. Retired now, but it doesn’t matter.

“Dad, you could’ve called me.” You had a cellphone. 

“I’m the parent, you are the child.” And then he punched me dead in my chest. He’s a big man.

We argued the whole way home. And then I told him that we did not have a good relationship. And he told me, “well that breaks my heart to hear you say that.”

After you just struck me. Nah, bruh. Wasn’t the first time. Wasn’t the last. At the end of the day, my father is a woman beater. I don’t care how successful he his. Love, in any form, shouldn’t look like that. I’ve never raised my hand to him, but if he ever tries it again, I will. You don’t hit me. And you don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I’ve had the reading level of a freshman in college since I was eight! They tested me!

It’s not a brag. It’s just the truth. It is a gift I was granted. I'm blessed. That's all. A lot of folks on here are amazing. I'm not special. 

This rant is going to develop into something sweet now. I know what my father is, I’ve accepted it. My mother looked away. It’s part of why I write the way I write. I’m going to share my favorite memory of my Dad. Sounds weird, I know…but most folks who have Dads…you have feelings.

I was sixteen. I played both Rec and Club soccer. I was scouted, along with a friend, after we lost to State. That last game had been hard, we’d been so close to the championship. And then your goalie got hurt. I'd even ran at the girl who’d done it. Stopping myself, just short of slapping her.  The rage was real.

I don’t remember what I said to her, but they were some choice words. Nobody hurt one of your teammates.

But it was while you were playing a club game. Now let’s be honest. Girls are mean. So I talked trash. I’m small, everyone is bigger than me. But I let them know what’s up. I was a team enforcer. Like BiB. I once showed up late to a game and my teammates pointed out everyone I needed to hurt. And I was on it. But here’s the thing, I’m nice. As long as we’re not out on the field. 

I always tried to play a clean, good game. But at this point, I’ve been slapped in the back, tripped (aggressively), thrown. I remember a time where the girl grabbed my jersey and said “I got her, now go!” I looked the Referee in his optic stems and yelled “you don’t see this?!”

Here is the happy memory.

Like I said, I was sixteen. We were playing this team that we were absolutely obliturating. It didn’t always happen, but your team had a pretty good record. This other team wasn’t very good. 

The score was 17 to 0. It was so bad that my coaches, male coaches, ordered you all to stop scoring unless you did a trick. Which was a kind thing. 

“The next person who scores needs to do a handstand!” Rick had yelled. “Or I will pull you out!”

In my role as left half-back, and the occasional left-center half-back, it was my job to defend and I did it. I’d been doing it for more than a decade. Get some.

But see, when we were playing that team that lost so bad…

There was a girl who kept kicking me in my calf…where the shin guard doesn’t protect. She yanked my hair, grabbed my jersey.

My team was nice. We loved each other. Which meant our coaches had to teach us how to protect ourselves. Like, literally. 

So, they’d taught us how to elbow. When the Ref wasn’t looking. I always used my ass and my hips when running against someone - everyone got bigger faster than me! So I had to box them out. Just like in basketball

So that girl who kept picking with me, kept hurting me…

I waited until the official wasn’t looking and elbowed her straight in her gut. And then jogged away like “I don’t know what happened to her. She just fell”.

Of course, the Refs called it and then I hear the opposing coach yell. I almost earned a yellow card.

“I saw you, number seventeen. I saw you!” I threw up my hands. I ain’t do nothing.

One of your coaches, Hank, yells back at the other man. “Hey! You do not speak to her like that! She is a child! You want to have words, then there is her father.” He pointed to my Dad. He was standing up out of lawn chair, arms crossed, ready to fight.

I shouldn’t have hit her. But he was ready to throw. And I am conflicted. This was cathartic.

"Shut up when you talk to my daughter!"

[cixel-jewel]

✨HERE IS EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT MY CHARACTERS!!! ✨

Below is just a quick summary of everyone's story- just straight to the point! This may or may not be updated if I decide to create more characters but yeah! If you're interested in learning more about my characters, please continue below!!! 😌

vvv Ronnie, Eugene, Azai, Neptune, and Solaris's World/Stories vvv

The world they live in: 

In their world/universe, almost everyone has two forms- a human form, and a mythic form. At one point there were only humans and mythic's surviving the world, fending off numerous creatures and beasts that roamed the earth. The humans and mythic were scared of each other for years and have both struggled to survive the magical yet dangerous creatures of their home. After seeing that both of them can easily live together and have better chances of surviving; They came together to have a better future and live their lives peacefully. Ever since then, their genes have combined for future generations - giving most people today two forms they can change into. Because of this, anyone can choose to show their human form or their beast form- or even switch between the two based on how they feel and what they are most comfortable with.

💙

Ronnie: 

Ronnie is a soft-spoken man who often keeps to himself. Surrounding himself with work and not bothering to make friends with anyone. He was used to being alone after all, he has been solo for most of his life. His family paid more attention and love to his siblings, neglecting him most of the time. His parents would complain about him being in the way while his siblings bullied him constantly. Since no one bothered to listen, Ronnie has mostly kept to himself. He is one of the few that doesn’t have a creature form and has to be extra careful when he goes out. With the beasts that still roam around of course. As time went by, he didn’t really see himself staying with his family. With some side hustles and an overnight job, he had enough money to get himself an apartment. He moved out of his childhood home earlier than most folks and quickly had to learn how to support himself. After hopping from job to job, He now works in a library inside a campus to be safe from the beasts and to live on his own. With work being the only other thing he does, he can often get too carried away and forget to take care of himself. 

#cixel_ronnie

💖

Eugene: 

Eugene is a big loveable guy who is full of life. Always looking beyond the horizon to better his life. Things weren’t always like this for him though, he had to work twice as hard to get where he is today. For most of his life, Eugene lived with his grandmother. On the side he worked in restaurants as a cook and sometimes a waiter. Their grandmother was persistent with her opinions on mythic forms, saying that they were unnecessary and dangerous. Eugene didn’t bother to listen to her and wanted to experience his form just for himself. He would start sneaking out at night just to show off his mythic form; Easily making a few new friends while on his adventures. One night, he had an encounter with one of the beasts of the land. Eugene and his friends barely made it out alive, causing them to come back home a whole day later. His grandmother was in a fit of rage, backhanding him with her old ring on and giving them a scar. Eugene was kicked out soon after. With the help of his friends and some extra cash from his old job. He is now going to college to get a degree in chemistry, hoping to build a better life for himself and for those he cares about the most. 

#cixel_genie

💚

Azai: 

Azai is full of energy and can be a bit overzealous. With them being born into the streets, they got used to the chaos. They don’t remember who their parents were, all he remembers is waking up in a warm bed. As a child, most of the adults around them were concerned for their safety. So they were placed in numerous foster homes. Sadly, most of the foster parents complained about them being too much. Hence why they hopped from bed to bed. As soon as Azai turned of age, he was sent out into the streets to fend for himself. Becoming homeless. With what they have now, all they can do is try to survive as long as he can. With being in the streets and his size, they got used to being in their mythic form. They have a human form of course, but it only makes him feel unsafe. Along with that, their mythic form already gave them a lot of energy. So of course it gave them an intense appetite they were rarely ever full. Making their life a whole lot more difficult. They made more enemies than friends, distancing themself from anyone that could try to hurt them. But they eventually found a campus to camp at for a bit. Hopefully to find a place to finally call home. 

#cixel_zai

💟Neptune's and 🧡Jupiter's stories are N/A

Redesigns: Fully Updated --- August, 17 2022

EUGENE: 👉❤👈

RONNIE: 👉❤👈

AZAI: 👉❤👈

Neptune: N/A

Jupiter: N/A

How they meet:

N/A

#cixelramble #cixel_genie #cixel_ronnie #cixel_zai

[bokunosimpfiction]

Kidnapped Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt.5

Summary: You feel emotions other than rage and sarcasm oh my god 

A/N: The reason I took a break from this series was because I had no idea where to take it from that cliff hanger, and I felt that character development needed to be done before we dive head first into the plot. This is part of that, but keep in mind it’s not filler like Chapter 2 became. I think it’s funny that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING ONE SHOT BUT APPARENTLY FUCKING NOT. I’ll be posting another chapter for this series soon. Also feel free to send me asks about this series. I’ve been getting comments on my ao3 that are a) genius b)hilarious and c)heartwarming. Talk to me. Please! Ask and anon should be open right now let me know if they aren’t!

Masterlist link for previous parts:

Link to this chapter on AO3:

Taglist: @localdepressedvampire​ and one person recieving updates via email

The fresh cold late-autumn air made your lungs sting. And the layers of clothes didn’t help fight the chill you didn’t know you were facing. Has it been that long since you’ve been outside, to see the sun? You stick your arms in your armpits under your outercoat. Well, Heisenberg’s spare trench coat. It was much too big, the cuffs of the sleeves going well past your fingertips and the bottom half an inch from the ground.

You were so used to the fluorescent lighting and the warm dry air of the factory, that your body went into some type of culture shock. It felt like an allergic reaction to the outside world itself. Adjusting to it once you escaped would be hard.

“You’ve clearly become less fit since you started living with me,” Karl says in a matter-of-fact tone. You’d be insulted if you didn’t hear him say weird stuff about the other lords or the occasional brain-washed villager who brought up offerings. One had sewed you a wool and fox-fur dress and brought it up in September, in preparation for the winter. He’d thought it dumb at the time, but it protected you from the November chill better than anything you’ve ever worn.

Did they think you were a woman? Whether they were right or wrong, it didn’t change the fact that it was comfortable, warm, and made you feel better than the clothes you’d been wearing before in the factory or even before. You felt safe.

“Of course, I have, I’ve been sitting on my ass,” you retort.

“Still see that sass is intact.”

“It’s something that’ll never leave me.”

“You’d make a terrible house-spouse.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh hard, and you can see the cold air in front of your face, “I had a whole ass college degree before I came here and got my ass kidnapped.”

Karl whips around and looks at you, tilting his head down to peer at you from above his glasses. “You have a college degree?”

“Why are you surprised? Did you think I was that stupid?” Even if the question is sarcastic and witty, you felt a pang of hurt reverberate in your heart. Did he really think you were that stupid? Apparently so.

“I have two masters. One in aerospace engineering and one in mechanical engineering. Double majored in those fields for my bachelors at Oxford on a full-ride scholarship of robotic engineering.”

His mouth drops open. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“It never came up.”

He pinches his nose, “you could have been helping me this whole time in the shop, and I let you sit on your ass and play care-taker.”

“More like forced me.” At this point, you’ve stopped walking, and you’d be able to see the manor of Benviento if it weren’t for the fog.

“Besides the point.” He looks stressed. His eyebrows are furrowed, a deep frown is on his face and his whole disposition makes him look genuinely conflicted and upset. “Let’s just go.” He gestures for you to follow him and stomps up the path.

You follow him, trying not to slip in the mud. Converse doesn’t have great traction, you realized. Maybe you should have worn hiking boots. “Listen, dirty Dr. Doofenschmirtz-“

“I don’t want to listen to your dumb nick-names right now.”

You stop again, and your fists ball up at your side around the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. Your coat. The coat you’re wearing.

“Why the hell are you so mad at me!” It’s not a question. It’s an exclamation of emotion. For some reason, it hurts. Even if you despised him, hated him with all your being, having someone love you unconditionally felt nice. He was toxic at best, sociopathic at worst, and yet he loved you so strongly it tore the both of you so part. To feel that admiration has gone missing, even if for a second, sent you reeling. You can’t explain why you softened towards him.

“I’m not.” He keeps walking before he realized you stopped. He turned around to look at you. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He looks for the words. He’d never been good at expressing himself, you realized. Better through actions than words. But you didn’t want him to act on whatever he was feeling.

You wait in silence, eye-watering, trying not to cry.

He sees and rushes over to you. His left arm wraps around you and his right hand gently grabs your chin, his index finger underneath to lift your chin up to look at him. “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.”

You struggle to take a deep breath, choke on it, and the world feels so much more dangerous. A million malicious eyes gazing into your soul, whispers of panic fill your brain, and flashing thoughts of running right now, of hurting him or you flash through like lightning in a foggy storm. Every damn thing feels hazy and thick and you’re choking on the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want-“

“Take a deep goddamn breath.” You feel his tobacco-scented breath on your face. You can see panic flash through his eyes for a moment. You hate the smell, and it suffocates you even more. “You need to breath.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and your breath shakes like a wasp nest about to fall from the highest branch. “Why are you mad at me?” This time you genuinely ask. You don’t want a reason, but rather a reassurance that he isn’t at all.

His lips form into a snarl that doesn’t come out before he presses them in a tight line. As he thinks. It makes you even more nervous. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fact that I had an opportunity that went to waste.”

You look up at him. “Okay.”

He wraps his other arm around you and places his chin on your forehead. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and breathe.

In. Out.

In.          Out.

In. OUT.

In… out

In.

Out.

 In.

 … out.

“Do you feel any better?”

You wait a moment. “Yeah, I think so.” You ponder for a moment. “I think I had a lot of pent-up anxiety from everything.”

He stays quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard ruffling your hair. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. It’s…” How do I phrase this? “I worked hard for this anger. This anger to love me, to know I didn’t deserve this, to be kidnapped, to have my head ready to be mounted on a stick.” You continue, “if I stop feeling angry, if I forgive you, I’m afraid I’m losing that. That’s why I tried to escape because I loved myself, I wanted better for myself.”

“Was I… Was I not providing enough for you?” His question strikes you like an arrow.

“I-“ You stumble on you’re thoughts for a moment. “It’s less of you not doing enough, but more of the rough foot we started on.” You sniffle. “When I gave up, I felt like I lost a part of myself, all that I worked for. That degree included. I felt all my efforts, all my struggles that I faced outside this goddamn village had gone to waste. That it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it.”

You had promised yourself to keep him at arm’s length, to not give him clues to manipulate you. But you poured your heart out into his. You felt him shake and squeeze you tighter.

“Never. Ever. Feel like you aren’t worth it.” You feel something wet on your scalp. “You deserved better than each challenge that you faced, and each bit of hurt you felt along the way.” It’s his turn to choke on his words. He takes a shaky breath above you, and you can feel his heart pound faster. “You, darling, are worth everything.”

Something small inside you breaks. He’s just as human as you are, you realize. In this desperate attempt to escape, to fuel this hatred that’s worn you down, you’ve villainized a man that’s felt even more pain than you. A broken man, who thinks you’re the glue to put him back together. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to, but you do, because you’ve felt a fraction of the pain he’s felt, that he’s currently feeling, and it’s made your mind and bones ache far after the situation ended.

“And so are you, Karl.”

He unwraps his arms from around you. “Come one butter-cup, let’s go. Ugly-ass-psycho-doll is waiting for you. Says she wants you for a fitting and some tea party with her demented child, Angie.”

“Angie? Who’s she.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

#Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg #Yandere Heisenberg #Yandere #Yandere x Reader #Heisenberg x Reader #Yandere Heisenberg x Reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village x reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8