Dead Plate Oneshots I Like Your Dad

Warning:Age gap

Rody first noticed Estelle in his history class, though not by choice. She was hard to miss with her relentless energy and bright smile, the type of person who found ways to insert herself into every discussion. At first, he found it mildly endearing—someone that enthusiastic had to be genuine, right? But soon, her attention focused squarely on him. Estelle started following him out of class, popping up at his favorite study spots, and finding ways to join him for lunch. She’d tell him how much she “admired his confidence” and “loved his strong presence.” Rody felt his patience wearing thin, especially when it was clear she couldn’t take a hint.

His irritation doubled when their professor assigned them a project together. Rody tried to think of any excuse to avoid going to her house, but Estelle had insisted it was the most “efficient” way to work. Begrudgingly, he agreed, mentally preparing himself for an afternoon of dodging her questions about his “relationship status.”

But as he stepped into her home that first day, all of Rody’s irritation evaporated. Moving quietly in the kitchen was a man who, despite his casual clothes, exuded a reserved elegance. Rody’s breath caught as their eyes met. He was beautiful—pale, dark-eyed, with hair that fell in subtle waves around his face, and a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he registered Rody’s presence.

“Dad, this is Rody!” Estelle chirped, unaware of the charged silence that had filled the room. “Rody, this is my dad, Vincent.”

Vincent’s eyes darted away as he murmured a soft, “Nice to meet you.” Rody felt a strange, intense pull as he watched Vincent’s delicate, almost nervous movements. In that moment, Rody knew he was hooked. Estelle’s presence suddenly became background noise as his focus narrowed on her father. Vincent was unlike anyone he’d ever seen—both graceful and shy, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. He was stunning.

For the first time, Rody found himself grateful for Estelle’s persistence. He started suggesting more frequent project meet-ups, coming over as often as he could manage, finding any excuse to see Vincent again. To Estelle’s delight, Rody played the part of an enthusiastic friend, though his intentions were anything but innocent.

Over time, he noticed how Vincent grew more flustered when Rody’s eyes lingered on him a little too long, or when he’d lean a bit closer than necessary during their brief conversations. It was intoxicating to watch Vincent’s face flush, his lips part as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite muster the words.

One evening, Estelle was out with friends, and Vincent had hesitantly agreed to let Rody stay and finish some work alone. They were alone in the quiet living room, Vincent reading a book as Rody pretended to focus on his notes. But he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, casually draping an arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers grazing Vincent’s shoulder.

Vincent looked up, eyes widening as a blush crept into his cheeks. “Rody… I—”

Rody’s hand slid down to Vincent’s waist, his fingers tracing gentle circles. “You don’t need to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. Before Vincent could protest, Rody leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He felt Vincent shiver, his breathing growing uneven as he shifted under Rody’s touch.

“Rody, this… we can’t,” Vincent murmured, though his voice held more hesitation than resistance.

“Why not?” Rody replied, his fingers brushing up Vincent’s arm, feeling the way Vincent’s body tensed at his touch. “I know you feel it too.”

Vincent’s gaze dropped, his brows knitting in conflict. “This isn’t fair to Estelle. She… she has feelings for you, and she’s my daughter.” His voice wavered, and Rody felt a pang of frustration mingling with desire. He couldn’t care less about Estelle’s feelings when Vincent was right in front of him, looking so vulnerable, so conflicted.

“Estelle’s feelings for me are just a temporary crush,” Rody whispered, his hand sliding up to cup Vincent’s cheek. “And I don’t feel for her the way I feel for you.”

Vincent let out a shaky breath, his gaze flickering to Rody’s lips before he looked away, the weight of his guilt apparent. “This is wrong… she’d never forgive me if she knew.”

Rody leaned in, brushing his lips against Vincent’s, feeling the tension melt as Vincent surrendered, his hesitation dissolving under the warmth of the kiss. Rody deepened it, savoring the way Vincent leaned into him, the soft, barely-there sounds he made, as if part of him was still afraid to let go completely.

But as they pulled apart, Vincent’s face fell, his expression twisting with remorse. “I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered. “Rody, you need to stop coming here. It’s… it’s too much.”

The words felt like a slap. Rody’s heart pounded, a mix of anger and desperation rising within him. He tightened his grip around Vincent’s waist, his voice a whisper as he leaned close. “Do you really want me to go? Or are you just afraid?”

Vincent’s face softened, and for a moment, Rody thought he saw a flicker of longing in his eyes. But then Vincent pulled away, hugging himself as if to shield his emotions. “Please, Rody,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt her… or myself.”

The vulnerability in Vincent’s voice struck a chord, and Rody felt his heart twist. He wanted Vincent—needed him. But he also knew that Vincent’s love for his daughter, his need to protect her from this painful truth, was a wall he couldn’t easily break down.

Rody left that night, but he couldn’t forget the way Vincent had looked at him, the way he’d melted under his touch, only to pull back with so much regret in his eyes. The next day, Rody found himself drifting through campus, unfocused, his thoughts a whirl of anger and longing. He was torn between his desire for Vincent and the painful reality of what his presence in Vincent’s life meant.

But Rody wasn’t one to back down. He resolved to keep his distance for a time, to respect Vincent’s boundaries—at least until he found a way to show Vincent that they could make this work without hurting Estelle. Because he knew, that what they shared wasn’t something he could walk away from.

The days dragged on after that, each one more torturous than the last. Rody went through the motions at school, feigning interest in Estelle’s endless chatter, but all he could think about was Vincent. The stolen moments they’d shared haunted him, Vincent’s quiet sighs and soft touch lingering in his memory like a stubborn ache. He’d hoped that distance would dull the feeling, but it only intensified his desire, turning it into a gnawing need he could no longer ignore.

One evening, nearly two weeks later, Rody found himself standing outside Vincent’s house, clutching his phone as he debated sending a message or just knocking on the door. He knew he was risking everything, but he had to see Vincent again. The thought of leaving things unresolved gnawed at him. Before he could second-guess himself, the door swung open, and there was Vincent, looking surprised—and undeniably relieved—to see him.

“Rody…” Vincent’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide, and something vulnerable flickered in his expression. They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them heavy and charged. But before Vincent could say another word, Rody stepped forward, his voice low and urgent.

“Vincent, I can’t do this,” he said, his gaze intense as he searched Vincent’s eyes. “I’ve tried to stay away, but it’s impossible. I don’t want anyone else. And I think… you don’t, either.”

Vincent’s resolve seemed to waver, his expression softening as he looked at Rody with a mix of longing and fear. “Rody, it’s not that simple,” he murmured, though his voice held less certainty than before.

“Then let’s make it simple,” Rody insisted, reaching out to take Vincent’s hands in his. “You told me you didn’t want to hurt Estelle, and I get that. But what about you? What about what you want?”

Vincent’s gaze dropped, a storm of emotions passing over his face as he took a shaky breath. “What I want… it doesn’t matter,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I’ve spent years putting her first. And I can’t just… stop.”

Rody’s grip tightened, his heart aching as he took in Vincent’s words. He could feel the weight of Vincent’s loneliness, the years of self-sacrifice that had left him guarded and hesitant. Gently, he brought a hand up to cup Vincent’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You deserve to be happy too, Vincent,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “You deserve someone who cares about you, who won’t let you be alone.”

Vincent’s breath hitched, his eyes searching Rody’s face as if looking for something he hadn’t dared to hope for. Slowly, he leaned into Rody’s touch, his defenses crumbling as he whispered, “But Estelle…”

“We’ll find a way to handle it,” Rody promised, his voice firm. “But I can’t walk away from this. Not from you.”

In that moment, Vincent’s last defenses fell. He closed the distance between them, his lips brushing Rody’s in a kiss that was both hesitant and hungry, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime to let himself feel this way. Rody wrapped his arms around Vincent, pulling him closer, the warmth and intensity of the kiss deepening as their long-buried desires came pouring out.

For a while, they lost themselves in each other, savoring the relief of finally giving in to what they both wanted. But as the initial rush began to fade, Vincent pulled back, his expression conflicted once more. “Rody, I… I don’t know how to explain this to her.”

Rody pressed his forehead against Vincent’s, his voice gentle but resolute. “We’ll take it one step at a time,” he said. “Maybe… we don’t have to explain everything to her right away. We can keep it between us for now, see where things go.”

Vincent nodded slowly, the worry in his eyes giving way to a quiet acceptance. “I just… I don’t want her to feel betrayed. She’s been through so much already.”

Rody ran a comforting hand over Vincent’s back, understanding the weight of his words. “Then let’s be careful,” he murmured. “We’ll be honest with her when the time is right. Until then… let me be here for you.”

Vincent smiled, a soft, grateful expression that made Rody’s heart swell. “I’d like that,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

As they stood there in the quiet warmth of Vincent’s living room, Rody knew that their path forward wouldn’t be easy. There would be challenges, moments of doubt and difficult conversations. But as long as he had Vincent by his side, he was willing to face it all. Because in that fragile, fleeting moment, he realized that what he felt for Vincent wasn’t just desire—it was something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to let go of.