#Fives: I fear i may have made a mistake introducing these two

[written-mishaps]

About the Echo thingy:

Fives: Congrats Fox you got a two for one deal on little brothers

Rex: *in the background* HOW DO THEY KEEP COMING BACK TO LIFE

Fox: *looking at his data pad with Echo just chilling*

Domino Twins? More like the Zombie Twins

Also what do you think Echo’s and Fox’s dynamic is like?

LMAOOOOOOOO Fox and Echo would actually get on so well like Fox would drop a dry sarcastic comment and Echo would respond with one of his own and they'd look at eachother like WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE. But yeah, genuinely would love to put those two in a room, Fives would find it cool that his brothers were getting along....for the first five minutes....and then he'd realise that some people become too powerful when they meet eachother 💀

[suuho]

Now that you finished Hospital Playlist may I ask who is your favourite character and which aspects did you like about their personality as well as their ark through the show?

hey!! funnily enough, i did kind of immediately go back to rewatching it, because my brain is built that way, i guess. embarrassing to admit, but it is what it is, and i am putting it here in case i might add something later on, after the rewatch. a new comfort show has entered my life, and is sitting firmly in my top 3, right along with twenty five twenty one, which is incredibly high praise coming from me.

first of all, everyone around me was actually surprised that it took me so long to watch it. my favorite tv show growing up was grey's anatomy for the longest time, it's one of those shows i put on in the background of doing anything. like, when i write, i will have an episode of grey's anatomy playing. it soothes my brain. anyway, hospital playlist has been on my watchlist for like two, almost? three years? now, i think? around the time the second season premiered. i just never gave in, lol. huge mistake, turns out, because this show is like everything i love wrapped into one. it is like the most kaz-esque show ever, everything is so specifically catered to me, i cannot believe it even exists.

i thought my favorite characters would either be ikjun (i have seen jo jungsuk in hyung (with kyungsoo in a co-lead as a blind judoka) and he made me sob buckets, so i was already a fan and i know that man can sing like it's nobody's fucking business, my moritz and hedwig... i used to audition with moritz material, so naturally he is dear to me.) or seonghwa, because she is the only neurosurgeon in the main squad. fun fact, i wanted to be a neurosurgeon up until my ophthalmologist ruined all my hopes in 9th grade when he told me i could never be a surgeon. rip. i never cried so much in my life up until then, it really changed my life forever. sigh. that's what you get for having absolutely no depth perception!

so, imagine how surprised i was when i was naturally drawn to kim junwan. i love the fact that he was introduced as a cold-hearted and strict character but is revealed to be actually quite soft and very dedicated. that we see him as brutally professional and occasionally cutting, but rarely actually harmful. it is not often we find a character depicted like that, and i could relate to him in many ways as someone people seem to fear on first glance, and always having to convince them of the opposite. he is insanely smart, but not as smart as ikjun, and he is so fiercely loyal while intensely, yet quietly, emotional. so many aspects of his character were gradually revealed and it felt less like a change of his core and more like aspects of him we have earned to experience over the course of the show. i love a reflection of characters that is caused less by a seismic shift in their lives or daily events, and more like just us being allowed a window to sit in and navigate their narrative like real people. hospital playlist felt very much like that.

so many little things i've loved about him... the different hairstyles growing up, the fact that apparently he has lived with jeongwon for so long, and they have worked at the same hospitals? that he can barely stand to live on his own, something you would never quite expect from a forty year old man who is as revered and feared as kim junwan. how generous and kind and loving he is. how quirky and occasionally impulsive, especially around his friends. i thought the romance between him and iksun shoehorned and wooden at times, but they won me over, mostly by the end of season two. honestly, i put it more on chemistry than storytelling, to be honest. same goes with jungwon and gyucheol; for some reason i did not particular enjoy the romantic chemistry between either of these pairs (or maybe it was just the actors?) and saw them being better off as friends. that's just me nitpicking, though.

i also particularly loved seokhyeong's character development, and his romance felt well-earned and natural. such great growth here! and more justice for cripplingly introverted people, we deserve the spotlight as well! and the romance! and to be a little mean and spiteful and very smart, and kind-hearted and soft-spoken but strict as well, when needed! i loved him in his role at the hospital, and his backstory interested me the most out of all doctors, considering he worked in the states for quite some time, and all his family issues. sooooo dashing, too.

now, here comes perhaps my highest praise for the show. hospital playlist gave us the best friends-to-lovers trope in all of kdrama, possibly of all time. so insanely well done, oh my god. by the time ikjun and seonghwa kissed in the car, i thought i was gonna turn to dust. the chemistry! the realness! the ROMANCE! these two are so grossly meant for each other and their entire development from best friends to lovers was absolutely expertly written. i loved the season one finale, when ikjun visits seonghwa in her new apartment and confesses his feelings for her. so elegant. jo jungsuk has this talent for really deeply emotional acting that never feels like a gimmick and always just earnest. anyone else might have forced too much there, or played it too heavy-handed, but he met the perfect balance between earnestness, and yearning, and gracefully-resigned. it was beautiful. how seonghwa allowed herself to open up to those feelings over the course of the second season, and how naturally they have taken care of each other from the beginning... god. couple of all time, for real. the fact that ikjun is such a singer and seonghwa is the complete opposite, but he loves her so much that to him, she sounds impeccable. what a contrast to his sharp head turns in the first episode whenever she fucks up a note. hospital playlist you magical show, you.

honorable mentions to sunbin and seokmin, my favorite neurosurgery side couple. precious, precious sweethearts. and my beloved choi yungjoon as the dishiest side character of them all, initially why i even gave in to watch the show. he did not disappoint, and he will always enrich the visual tapestry of any ensemble cast (see also: vincenzo). i just love his work in anything, so he was such a welcome addition here and, as always, a sight for sore eyes. also, park hyungsoo as seokhyeong's family's lawyer, famously of the devil judge (lawyer go, anyone? i spy a type cast and i welcome it) and crash landing on you (one of the nasty brothers).

the music was outstanding. the singing, jesus christ. jo jungsuk never met a key he couldn't transpose into a tenor dream, or a song that he couldn't elevate by adding his perfectly measured vocals. watching everyone learn and play their instruments was such a joy, and i have soaked up all the behind the scenes content. the first time they played rain and you in season two, i started to bawl. man. i fucking love this show, and i would take five more seasons to see how this group of friends navigates their lives together. that it's my life performance changed my soul.

ranking: 10/10

so, where is season three?

[lawngnomeofdoom]

"Well, for one thing, he couldn't stop staring at my boobs." Part One: when I'm near you

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Takes place after the androids gain freedom. Connor continues working with Hank at the police station, trying to adjust to his new emotions when Hank’s old partner, a bright young detective who is close with Hank returns and Connor becomes enamored with her. Connor x reader, lots of fluff, smut in later chapters ;)

A/N: This is my first time posting a fic here so any feedback to better it is welcome! Thanks if you read through it, I hope it makes you smile or at least exhale out of your nose.

“Hank!” A light voice called out across the police station. The Lt. looked around for a moment, clutching his head that no doubt was thumping with a hangover. But, his eyes that were squinted in annoyance at the sound of his name being called opened wide, and a grin spread across his face in a way Connor had never seen before, he found it fascinating how fast the Lt’s mood had shifted.

Not as fascinating it seemed to Connor’s now buzzing circuitry as the young woman who just walked in.

“Y/N!” Hank replied cheerily. He practically leaped up from his desk chair to wrap you in a bear hug. Hank pulled away and held you by the shoulders to look you over.

“Look at you! I heard you made detective already!” He said proudly.

“I did! And as it turns, I convinced the Captain at my other station that I would be most useful detecting things back home.” You smiled. Connor sat awkwardly across from Hank’s desk, observing the interaction as if he were watching a scene on a Tv show, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the lead actress. His eyes traveled across your body, down your back, and over the curves there, he began to memorize your shape, you were a petite young woman, but you seemed to carry the confidence of a man twice your size with the way you carried yourself. Your eyes glanced up to meet Connors briefly before focusing back on Hank, the passing moment caused him to conduct an additional maintenance check on his thirium pump, it seemed to stutter when you looked at him. Connor noticed a slight blush crawl across your face, it made him smile, for reasons he was unsure of.

“So you’re back, back?” Hank asked leaning against his desk.

“Certainly am, and I pulled some strings and convinced Fowler to make me your partner again!” You told Hank. The Lt. released a relieved sigh and clapped his hands together.

“This is a godsend, no offense Connor but this is the best partner I’ve ever had. Y/N, Connor, Connor, Y/N.” Hank introduced you two as he plopped back down in his seat. Connor stood quickly, maybe too quickly, maybe not quickly enough? His mind seemed to stall; his processing time stunted.

“Ahem, Connor.” Hank coughed loudly and broke Connor out of his confusing thoughts and noticed with embarrassment that you had been holding your hand out to his ever since he stood up.

“Oh! My apologies, I was finishing… a report. Yes. A report. It is my pleasure to meet you Y/N. I look forward to working with you and Lt. Anderson on further investigations. I have done a quick search into your records and I am thoroughly impressed with your marks at the academy and at your hefty contribution to the rapid decrease in the crime rate at your last station.” Connor finished. For some reason his tie felt too tight, although he had no respiratory circulation to be cut off, it still felt like he was suffocating.  He managed to work up enough courage to look you in your eyes, but he feared he had made a mistake because now he didn’t wish to look at anything else. Connor cocked his head slightly, feeling overwhelmed by how your very presence was affecting him. His eyes now studied your hair, following the soft waves down your shoulders and to your chest where you wore a black tank top under your dark blue leather jacket. His eyes lingered there a moment too until a familiar slap to the back of his head brought him back.

“Connor! Let go of her hand goddammit!” Hank scolded him. Connor glanced down and saw he was still in fact shaking your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Connor said immediately releasing your hand and looking to his feet, unsure of how to proceed. But just as he considered retreating into some other part of the station, he felt the weight of his social blunder slide off his shoulders, just by the sound of your laughter.

“No need to apologize, it’s a pleasure to meet you too Connor, Hank has told me quite a bit about you.” You say as you lean against Hank’s desk and crack your knuckles, making Connor frown.

“I haven’t harmed your hand in any way, have I?” He probed.

“Hm? Oh no, you’re fine, it was nice actually. I like men with firm hands.” You replied with a coy smile on your lips. Connor blinked nervously a few times, his LED flashing yellow before a reply could form.

“And your hands are extremely soft. I found the experience to be extremely pleasurable.” Connor said attempting to regain his composure.

“Pleasurable?” Hank asked with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Pleasant! An oral typo to be sure! I will join you both later. Pleasant to meet you Y/N.” Connor said and rushed off to another part of the station, leaving you and Hank alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------You and Hank watch with amused smirks as Connor retreated to the evidence room, to the holding cells, then to the break room, seemingly scrambling for any available task to be done.

“I may give him hell but Connor is a good kid Y/N. He’s a little…off but he’s still trying to figure himself off.”

“No, I like him.” You say quickly without thinking but Hank doesn’t seem to notice.

“Now that you’re back, I can stop doing all the work, finally catch a breather.” Hank yawned as he put his feet on his desk.

“Really? Connor seems like a good cop, very…observant.”

“How do you mean?” Hank asked with a raised brow.

“Well, for one thing, he couldn’t stop staring at my boobs.” You grin.

[citydreamgrls]

a christmas treat

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 5,243

a/n: a very seasonal one for you,, hope you enjoy !! :)

warnings: swearing , smut , 18+ 

It had been a drunken mistake. A situation she should never have been in at all. But one final party before the summer break had caused that fateful moment she wished had never occurred. Y/n had been in the library all evening, in a lazy attempt to avoid the Gryffindor party altogether, but decided she would need to return to her dorm at some point.

She’d hoped that maybe they would have calmed a bit now that it was later in the night, but to her dismay the excited shouts sounded the second she reached the common room’s door. With one breath she slipped inside, wanting to pass by the group huddled by the fire unnoticed.

“Hey y/n?” A voice called out.. Her friend Angelina leant over the back of the sofa with a beer in hand and a smile on her face. “You joining us this time?”

“I’m pretty tired, but thanks.”

“Oh come on, you said that last time. It’s the end of term, just have one drink with us?” She pouted, but the girl held her ground and shook her head.

“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“So do the rest of us!” Lee groaned, “Just stay for an hour then you can escape us again.” He joked. She took the bait, leaving her books on the table and slipping next to Angelina.

She noticed the twins, unfazed by their presence at any sort of party. But she’d never really paid much attention to them, at most times she could barely tell them apart. But with a few drinks in her system, and the need to sleep fading with each one, she noticed one of them in particular. George.

She studied his face subtly as it glowed beside the fire’s light. His was skinnier than Fred’s, with a slightly different jaw shape. His voice was deeper than his brother’s, and she noticed it more as he laughed with disregard for how loud it was and was always the one to start a joke. Then the mole, on the right side of his neck. That was the last thing she noticed before he caught her staring.

But he just did what he always would when someone looked too long, and winked carelessly. Then it was an internal battle not to blush like a child as she quickly looked anywhere but him.

He’d introduced himself not much later while she was pouring herself one last drink before heading up to bed. She’d almost choked at the sound of his voice, surprised that he was taking time to speak to her when he had a whole room of people at his command.

She was drunk, so was he. And she liked the way he smirked and leant down to her from his towering stance. Y/n let him take her ‘somewhere more private’ and fuck her.

That was it. But she reminded herself that he was drunk, so was she.

Nothing more.

So the next day she woke up earlier than the other’s and made her way down to the train alone, in case everyone knew what she’d let that tall redhead do to her the night before. But when they eventually joined her in the carriage, the only questions were about her rushing off so early.

Maybe he was embarrassed, she wondered as the castle went out of view and the lake came in. All that ran through her mind was him, everything she had done was fresh in her memories. So much so that she could barely remember herself being there, if it wasn’t for the hidden bruise he’d left on her shoulder she may have believed it was a dream.

He had felt like a dream.

But he was just drunk, maybe so much so that he had forgotten it all.

It seemed so when they returned after the summer, and he acted as though he’d never even met her that night. So her and the twins remained strangers.

At least until the Christmas break came around.

-

“I can’t believe they’re making you stay here,” Angelina huffed, often being the first to critique y/n’s muggle parents and their choices.

“It’s just a precaution, I’m fine with them. But when the rest of the family come round, all I want to do is hex them to oblivion.” She laughed.

“It’s wrong though, they’re scared of a witch who isn’t even permitted to do magic outside of the school!”

“It’s only a few weeks, plus I can start studying.”

“Oh good, get all the studying out of the way so we can actually have fun when I get back.” She grinned, snapping her case closed and looking round the room.

“Go, or you’ll miss the carriages.” The girl laughed and pushed her out the door.

“Please don’t spend the whole break alone? And write to me!” She called before rushing out of the common room.

Later that evening she finally did what Angelina had asked of her, both requests. But not quite by choice. She was sitting in the great hall having dinner, the handful of students that remained making it a very peaceful meal. Her hand alternated between eating, flicking the page of her book and writing to Angelina to tell her how boring it was going to be.

She wouldn’t have noticed the two boys in front of her if one of them hadn’t coughed to get her attention. Her eyes looked up, wide and caught off guard as they smiled back with the same face.

“Hello y/n” They said in unison, making it harder yet again to tell them apart.

“You've been left here too?” One of them spoke.

“I don’t mind it,” she said quietly, turning her head back to the book.

Her heart was racing, of course George would tell his brother about the party, she was dumb to think otherwise. But neither of them were letting on about it. Still, they knew her name. He must remember.

“I’m Fred,”

“And I’m George, the better looking one.” He winked, and she froze.

“You okay?” Fred asked, frowning at how she had stopped at the sight of George.

The girl just nodded, resuming her letter to Angelina.

Now it was confusing, she couldn’t tell whether they were pretending to be strangers. Or they actually believed they were. The twins stayed in front of y/n as she carried on her multiple tasks, they didn’t dare interrupt her until she finished her letter and sealed it in the envelope.

“You know we’re the only ones from our year staying here?” Fred told her.

“Oh right, how come you two are here?” She asked them.

“We were hungry,” George said, waving his fork in front of her.

“She means hogwarts you dimwit!” Fred slapped his brother on the head, making y/n giggle sweetly. She had always thought they were annoying, with their pranks and lack of care for anything. But seeing them tease one another, she realised they were in fact quite funny to be around.

“Mother said she’d had enough of cooking for us all, so we’re stuck here this christmas.” Fred explained, not seeming too bothered by his family’s neglect.

“Ron’s here too, and Ginny but I haven’t actually seen her yet.” George frowned, looking round to see if he could spot his little sister.

“Maybe she’s been eaten by that troll hagrid’s hiding in the woods,” Fred said calmly.

“That would be our luck, all mum told us to do was look after Ginny this year.” George groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Back up, a troll?” The girl asked, but both twins just nodded, as if this was known information. “Never mind.”

-

From then on they sat with her at every meal, always telling her about tricks they would play on the few remaining teachers at the castle. It was four days into the holidays when Fred and George asked her to hang out, a difference to the studying she’d been doing previously.

“We’re heading down to Hogsmeade later, you wanna come with us?”

“You know, seeing as there isn’t really anyone else for you to spend time with,” George had added. The girl still hadn’t figured out whether he remembered the summer party seeing as the only time she saw them was when they were together, but regardless she decided to take Angelina's advice and make some friends.

“Yeah sure,” She closed her book and finished her toast before standing up, “I’ll meet you guys in the common room then?”

-

It was snowing heavily and y/n was glad she’d put on an extra layer to walk to Hogsmeade, especially when the twins forced her to defend herself from an impromptu snowball fight. Even when she’d hit them both in the face they didn’t give up.

Being away from the castle felt much more fun, even more so with Fred and George taking turns to tease her. Which, surprisingly, she didn’t mind too much. It was never malicious with them, and if they gave it out it was only the rules that they took it too.

They spent the whole afternoon scouring the shops and drinking butterbeer until y/n’s legs felt like jelly and Fred had to give her a piggyback ride up the hill again. Not that he was very trustworthy after him and George raced to see who could drink a pint quicker, five rounds of it.

“Don’t fall asleep y/n,” George had warned as the girl’s head bounced lightly against his brother’s back. “Or Fred will dump you in the shrieking shack!” The girl pretended to be scared, but tried to reach out to push the boy away. Instead she fell off the side of her ride and brought him down with her.

All three of them burst into fits of laughter and spent the next 40 minutes drunkenly trying to complete the 15 minute walk back up to hogwarts. When they finally made it back to the common room, after dodging teachers in the hallway, they fell onto the sofa in front of the fire.

“Fuck, marry, kill…” George started, making y/n and Fred groan in fear of his next few words. “Snape, Lupin, Dumbledore.”

“I think this one might be for you y/n,” Fred laughed.

“Okay,” The girl thought for a second, “right, I would fuck Snape, Marry Lupin… I can’t kill dumbledore though. I’d be evil!”

“You’d FUCK SNAPE?” They cried out in unison, disgusted by her final decision.

“Yeah, I think he’d be a good fuck.” They nearly screamed at what she said. “What…” she laughed, “all that rage has to go somewhere,”

“Stop stop!” George begged, unable to listen any longer. But the girl liked how it bothered him.

“Anyway, I like a deep voice.” She, not really, joked.

Fred started up the hysterics, suddenly unable to stop picturing how Snape would look naked. Something he was not proud of.

“Oh don’t I know it,” George had said.

She hadn’t registered what he’d said, too busy laughing with them both still tipsy from their day in the village. But later on when she sobered up, y/n thought whether George was trying to hint that he did in fact remember everything.

Ron and Harry came down from their dorm room while the older three were still in fits.

“God what happened to you lot,” The twins’ younger brother had called out over the noise, “We can hear you from upstairs.”

“You’ll never guess what y/n said about Snape!” Fred had wheezed out, but was quickly muffled by the other two who decided that both Harry and Ron were too young to know about their game.

“What? I wanna know,” Ron had whined.

“Don’t be so nosy Ron.” George had teased.

“Fred was gonna tell me.” He pointed out, but George kept a tight cover on his twin’s mouth.

“He most definitely will not.”

The two of them left with slumped heads, admitting defeat, and Fred was freed from his temporary prison. He slapped both of his friend’s heads.

“What was that for?” y/n complained.

“I couldn’t breath you idiots.”

They couldn’t help but start laughing again, something which would recur throughout the day until they eventually sobered up before dinner.

-

Y/n came to terms with the twins and their drinking habits, as it was really the only thing to do to pass the time with so little people around. But when Fred and George were around they always had fun.

The girl watched them whizz about the empty quidditch pitch on their brooms, tossing a ball between themselves. She slipped the flask from her coat and took a sly sip of firewhiskey to keep herself warm. Normally she wouldn’t drink at all, not having done so since the dreaded party where she and George had- you know. But she decided she wanted to do whatever she felt like, it was a rarity.

George flew over, hovering in front of her as she hid the whiskey back in pocket.

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” He raised his eyebrows, he’d been trying to convince her to get on since she’d taken a seat on the stands.

“Not a chance, Weasley, neither you nor Fred are sober enough. I’m precious cargo.” She smiled. The boy’s hair was blown away from his face, held back by the amount of times he’d run his hand through it. She watched his brown eyes sparkle in the winter sun, and was reminded of why he had ever caught her attention in the first place.

“You wanna talk about sobriety eh? Empty your pockets then y/n.” Her stomach filled with butterflies at the sound of his voice speaking her name, but she did as he asked.

“I’ll let you have some if you stop trying to get me on that deathtrap.” The girl sighed and he nodded, taking the flask when she offered it out.

“Nice doing business with you,” He winked and flew off.

-

The next week went by quickly, and y/n had pretty much forgotten about her worries with George. And now, sooner than any of them had realised, it was Christmas eve. Both twins had burst into the girl’s dorm to drag her out of bed, throwing her around the room until she threatened to vomit on both of them.

“Hurry and get dressed or we’ll miss breakfast.” They called, leaving her dizzy in the middle of the room.

Fred discussed their plans for the day while y/n drank endless cups of coffee, not having the stomach for any food. Not to mention, George had been staring at her for the past 10 minutes, making her too nervous to move much. She much preferred it when she had something stronger to drink.

“I heard from Harry that Ron fancies Hermione,” Fred spoke up, no longer interested in our day's activities. That was very him, he would make a decision then immediately change his mind.

“Well that’s obvious,” George scoffed, having yet another bowl of cereal. She wondered how he could burn off all that he ate. “He’s looks at her with stupid puppy eyes,”

“You have stupid puppy eyes,” The girl joked, earning a look from the twin.

“Oh really?” He laughed. “You practically pout whenever you want something from us?”

“At least it works for me,” I winked, making George choke a bit.

Fred laughed, rarely seeing his brother flustered. They’d discussed crushes before in the past, but y/n had never come up before. He watched the two of them tease one another over the table and thought that they suited each other in reality. Plus, he had never seen George pay as much attention to a girl as he had y/n, even ones that he’d admitted to liking.

-

That evening had proved Fred’s theory right as they once again sat in front of the fire, the three of them sharing a bottle of y/n’s muggle alcohol. It burnt like hell and tasted like shit, but they had never gotten drunk quicker so decided it was the logical choice.

George had made sure that y/n was warm enough, without expressing too much concern for her that she would notice. Fred had to hide his smug smile as he watched his brother start to flirt shamelessly with their newest friend.

“What do you mean Hogwarts is scary,” He had laughed, “We’re the only things to be feared.” Fred had added.

“And now you’re one of us!”

“As much as that is a very sweet sentiment,” The girl stroked their heads jokingly, like dogs. “But it’s when it’s quiet, like now. My dorm’s just me, and I had the silence. It feels like someone’s always watching.”

“Aww little y/n’s scared.” George had teased, reaching down to tickle the smaller girl. She kicked and wriggled but he was bigger and stronger and could hold her down.

Those hands, holding her arms in place. It almost threw her straight back into the memory of them in secret passageway, him gripping her as he kissed her neck. If it hadn’t been for the tickling, the boys probably would have noticed her shiver at the reminder. But it was lost in their laughter.

It wasn’t long before Fred decided he would give his, slightly older, brother a chance to talk to y/n alone. So he overemphasised his drunken state and wobbled up to bed, leaving the pair by the fire.

-

They sat in silence for a while, George letting the girl curl into his side as they passed the bottle between them. She watched his hands play with the sofa’s arm nervously and giggled slightly.

“What?” He asked, feeling the need to whisper amongst the silence.

“Nothing,” She dismissed.

“I’ve had fun this holiday,” y/n admitted.

“We have too,” George told her, smiling down sweetly. His top lip curled up ever so slightly, making her blush again like she had done the first time he’d noticed her. “It’s been better than being at home really.” He laughed.

“My family are pretty boring,”

“Oh I can tell,” y/n glared up at him. “I’m kidding darling don’t worry.” Her stomach did multiple flips, not only at the nickname, but at the way he took the arm that was around her shoulder and stroked her cheek. In fact, he didn’t stop. It just became normal after a few seconds, as if he’d always shown her this kind of affection.

“Why didn’t you go home this year?” He asked y/n.

“My parents are muggles, as you know,” she raised the bottle with a gentle laugh “they don’t quite get magic.”

“Oh right,” he was truly invested in her as she spoke, taking in every word with genuine interest.

“They were worried I would let slip to the rest of the family when they came to stay, and well, they haven’t really told anyone else about me.” y/n felt ashamed to be telling George about her family in such a negative way.

“That’s a shame,”

“I don’t mind, they’re just careful people.”

“Still, they should be proud. Not everyone can be a witch,” He laughed.

“I’ve had more fun here anyways, so I won’t complain.” She leant her head on him for a few minutes, watching the flame from the fire disappear over time.

“Can I ask you something?” George suddenly said, making her stiffen up. She just nodded.

“Do you remember, before the summer break, there was a party here?” It was the moment she had been dreading ever since the night itself.

“Uh, yes I do actually.” she gave in, seeing no point in lying to him.

“And you can remember us going off to-”

“Yes George,” she cut him off, embarrassed that she had never mentioned it to him.

“I never told anyone about it,” He told her, making the girl relax ever so slightly. “I didn’t want to just in case you were embarrassed.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t embarrassed as such. Just more scared, that you’d think it was a mistake.” Admittedly she had felt the same, but only because she presumed he would’ve never gone for her had he been sober.

“Why would you think that?” He asked.

“Come on George, we’re different.” The boy had always appreciated how she said his name, and even now it made him giddy with happiness. “You’re friends with every Gryffindor, and they all adore you. I would much rather have my head in a book all day every day.”

“Unless me and Fred are involved.” He wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah well that’s different,”

“Different how?”

“You two are fun,” she admitted.

“And everyone else isn’t?” He smirked.

“You know what I mean, it’s just different.”

“Because of me and Fred? Or… just me?”

She watched his face as he studied hers, taking a deep breath as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re only saying all this because you’re drunk,” y/n scoffed, getting up to leave but he took her hand and kept her sat down.

“Maybe, but that doesn't mean I haven’t been thinking about it.”

His eyes were deep and made the girl’s heart tense as he spoke genuinely. “I thought you hated me after that party, so I just never bothered you. Until Fred decided to befriend you, and then I got to know you and realised why I introduced myself that night.”

“Because you wanted to fuck me?” She watched his face get closer but remained unfazed, refusing to move away from him.

“Of course, but also because you’re beautiful and quiet. Not to mention I’d had a thing for you ever since first year, but you were always in the library and I never got that chance to know you well enough.” He explained softly, their faces now dangerously close.

George glanced down at her lips and y/n couldn’t help but blush.

“I should go to bed,” She whispered, not moving closer or further away.

“Yes you should.” He pulled back with a smirk, seeing her finally let out a much needed breath of air. “Don’t get too creeped out tonight,” He teased as she stood up and walked round the back of the sofa leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“Come keep me company then you fool,”

With that y/n left, her footsteps going up to her dorm and into the room. George waited exactly a minute after the door shut, counting the seconds one by one. It felt like a lifetime until he reached 60, but then he stood up and smiled to himself. He made his way up the tower, one step at a time to try and make her wait a tiny bit longer. Ignoring the fact that he had been wanting to have his way with y/n ever since that night all those months ago. Having her around had been a joy, but it made his desire grow every time she smiled at him with those lips he couldn’t forget the feeling of.

The lips he noticed first when he opened up the door, not bothering to knock. She was sitting on her bed, just a nightdress on, waiting for him.

“God you’re gorgeous.” He had groaned, promptly closing the door behind him and taking off his shirt.

Y/n struggled not to drag him down as he stood over her body, his abs completely mesmerising her. She knew quidditch was good for something.

“You gonna stand there all night?” She teased.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve been wanting to all month.” This time she couldn’t help but gasp at how his words made her feel, her thighs clenching together as a reflex.

George pushed them apart as he climbed on top of her, pressing a leg between her own two. Making the girl moan out at his mercy.

“You’re desperate aren’t you?” She nodded, giving him those perfect eyes he’d been teasing her about only that morning. He dragged his fingers over her face, lifting her chin up so he could run them down her neck. This simple action antagonised the girl, who struggled not to beg for him with each finger slowly gripping her tighter.

Soon he was squeezing, making her moan out effortlessly.

“Hmmm, I love those noises baby.” She could barely hold herself back from pushing herself against his thigh, that remained propped between her legs. It felt like heaven to be touched by him again, and she kept her head held back in ecstasy.

“Please George,” she whispered to him, although there was no real need for them to stay quiet. He slowly moved his mouth to her ear, kissing below it and making her jolt with pleasure.

“What is it darling?”

“Please touch me,”

He took the hand from her neck and pushed her down flat onto the mattress.

“Strip” he demanded, watching her closely discard her nightdress and throw it to the ground. George let her eye him up as he took off his trousers, finally revealing the extent of his bulge as it pressed tight against his boxers.

Y/n could feel it against her pussy as he moved back on top of her, her neck being sucked hard by the boy. He loved the way she reacted to every touch, every finger that ghosted her body, and every kiss placed upon her. It all garnered a gentle moan. George wanted to hear it more and more, he felt entranced by her noises and internally begged for it to never stop.

He pushed himself against her pussy, rubbing slowly with no rhythm to catch her off guard, which god it did. Y/n was all his in that moment, letting herself be whatever George needed as he teased her to the edge. Her breath held as the boy took two fingers and ran them from her neck, freeing her from that euphoric feeling just to replace it with yet another as he slipped them between her folds. Y/n threw her head back, unable to control herself as he played around with her, slipping one finger in and out.

His other hand propped his body up, his biceps big and tensed near her head. She reached up and gripped his arm, moaning out as he pushed in yet another finger inside her, knuckle deep.

“You’re perfect darling,” He told her, “I would have given anything to hear these noises weeks ago.” His voice was deeper than usual, almost a growl as he removed himself from her completely. She whined slightly, making him smirk with how powerless she was.

George reached down to pull out his cock, causing the girl to yet again almost choke. She was amazed at how thick it was. She could feel it perfectly in her memory, but it had been a while and she’d never really gotten a chance to see it in all its glory.

But now there it was, thick and big and waiting to be thrusted inside her. She locked eyes with the boy towering over her body as he teased her with his tip.

“Please George,” She begged, “Please.” Her grip was back on his arm, tightening as he pushed inside. He was drunk on power as she begged for him, begged for him to fuck her even better than he had done months ago.

“Relax baby,” He whispered, pushing it all the way in. The sound that y/n made was nothing short of a scream, finally feeling him all the way in. Her pussy was dripping wet, and gripping onto George’s cock like it was going to be taken away.

The boy pounded into her like he’d been wanting to, ruthlessly and all the while he kept a hand tight around her neck. He thought about how good she made him feel, how small she was compared to him. He loved being able to throw her around and use her as he pleased. But most of all, he loved that she enjoyed it too.

“G-george, George I’m gonna-” Her pussy tightened, making George falter slightly but he didn’t dare stop when she was this tight. Instead he thrusted faster, an animalistic pace, making her scream so much louder than he’d ever heard. Then he felt himself get closer, just from the way her body reacted and he chased that high within her.

“Cum inside me, please.” She begged breathlessly, struggling to keep her eyes open. But when George finally let loose in her pussy, she couldn’t help but widen her eyes in the pleasure of it.

The boy fell to her side, his head resting on the pillow beside her as he caught his breath back slowly. She watched him brush his hair from his face and sigh happily.

“What are you looking at?” George asked, wrapping an arm around her naked body and rubbing his hand against her side.

“I just think you look very cute,” She giggled, high from the feeling of him.

“I fucked you like that, and you call me cute?” He huffed, half joking.

“I can do what I like now, you like me.” She teased him.

“Come on, I’m gonna get enough teasing from Fred when we tell him. I don’t need it from you too.” He groaned.

-

The next morning, Christmas day, the pair were rudely awoken from their pleasant sleep by Fred bursting into the room.

“I knew it! I could’ve bet good money on you two!” He shouted, shaking his brother as if he hadn’t already heard him come in.

Y/n groaned and rolled under the covers.

“Come on lazy get up,” Fred pulled George out of bed and onto the floor, groaning at his naked brother.

“Good thing you got George before me,” Y/n called out from beneath the covers.

“Get dressed you idiots, there’s presents downstairs let's go!” Fred ran off again, leaving his brother to pull on some clothes. He leant down to pull the covers from y/n’s face.

She felt him place a kiss on her cheek and she giggled at the cold air.

“You getting up?” He asked, passing her a jumper to pull on. She nodded silently, rubbing her head. “Hungover?”

“A little,” She blushed at his messy hair.

“I’ll carry you then,”

The girl put on some pajama shorts and held her arms out for George to lift her off the ground. He groaned happily and took her down to the common room to find Harry and Ron already opening gifts sent from Mrs Weasley. Ginny came racing down not long after, begging Fred to give over her presents.

“These ones are for you y/n,” Harry said when she was plonked on the sofa, warmed by the fire’s heat.

“Thanks Harry,” She looked down at the tag on the packages.

Hope you’ve had a good holiday darling, see you in the summer!

Y/n had spent the best holiday anyone could ask for with her two best friends, and couldn’t imagine having to leave them when the summer came around. She frowned, but the boy with his arm still on her waist saw the note before she could unwrap anything.

“You’ll have to come home with us next summer, not a chance am I letting your parents steal you away.” He joked, but his offer was sincere. She never had to worry about George hiding her away like her parents had done.

[ellavogues]

london sunrises - harry styles

summary: harry made you feel like home in a place far from it, but stupidly ruins it in fear of losing you

a/n: hey, second fic in two days! let me know your thoughtsss :) thanks for reading angels

Sometimes you wish you were seventeen again.

The carelessness, easy breezy lifestyle you lead was problematic and unproductive, but you never felt more free. Even now as an adult, unrestricted by menial rules made by your parents or your school, you don’t feel the same liberty as you felt when you were seventeen.

Maybe it was him that made you feel so free.

You met him at sixteen, when you moved countries from the USA to England. Originally pessimistic about the complete upheaval of your life, you took it upon yourself to not even try and socialise and familiarise yourself with people at your new school.

But one day, around a week after you moved, you were sat on the bus, headphones in your ear and gazing out the window as you waited for the bus driver to start the journey home, a brown, curly haired boy sat next to you, sporting a huge grin on his face.

“I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, extending his hand as if to ask you to shake it. “Mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head, “Yeah, go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“You’re new, right? We’ve got homeroom and science together I think.”

He’s smiling the whole bus ride, cracking stupid jokes and telling stupid stories, right up until you get off at your stop. You’re smiling too, feeling grateful to have met a friend in this new place.

The next day, he sat next to you in homeroom and science, and you conversed as if you had known each other for years. He was just that easy to talk to, always able to quickly come up with a witty, smartass remark to whatever you may say and chuckling to himself when you get slightly irritated at his teasing. He noticed you sitting by yourself at lunch, and insisted you sit with him and his mates.

Over time, your friendship with Harry gradually and organically blossomed into something more. Worried that it was only a one-sided feeling, you kept it to yourself and put on a front when you were around him, attempting to veil your new-found feelings with excessive teasing and smart remarks at his expense. But keeping up appearances proved to be difficult as time progressed and the two of you got closer and closer and as he got to know you better, picking up on the way you deflect your emotions.

One night, after a lot of weed and talking, you both found yourselves on Harry’s roof, just above his window to his room. His parent’s room was thankfully on the other end of the house and given it being the early hours of the morning, they were surely asleep. At least you hoped they were, he did manage to make you laugh louder than you thought possible and you crossed your fingers that they didn’t hear the two of you. The night sky was full of stars, you remember, and you finally didn’t have a weight on your shoulders, finally comfortable enough to be your true, authentic self and genuinely happy for the first time since you moved. Neither of you realised how long you had been up there, talking, laughing, smoking, until little glints of orange light began peaking through the clouds in the sky, the birds starting to sing their morning songs. You were honestly disappointed that the memory was over, that the rare moment that you got to feel like yourself alone with Harry had come to its inevitable end.

It was hard making friends in a new city, but his cheeky grin made it so easy to be his friend. 

The next time you went up there, you had your first kiss. It was like you thought it would be, your friends implanting in your mind that your first kiss is never as special as it is romanticised on film, but the kiss with Harry made butterflies swarm in your stomach, his soft lips feeling like the closest thing to home in this foreign city that with him you’ve grown to love. You later found out that it was his first kiss too, making the moment feel more special.

You were giddy again that night, but not because you had alcohol. A smile was stuck on your face with no setback being able to push you out of this happy trance. Harry loved seeing you happy, he loved the way your eyes got that little sparkle in them when you got all excited, a detail that no one else would be able to notice. He made you feel giddy in the best way possible, the feeling almost addicting. Dangerously, it seemed you had the same effect on him. 

It seems for once the two of you were on the same page about your feelings, making a hopeful promise of what the future may hold

By the time you were seventeen, London sunrises on Harry’s roof after a long night of talking and weed have become a habit for the two of you. Something about being wrapped up in each other’s presence, in a space just for the two of you and distanced just enough from the world around you, is incredibly addictive. But the rays of sunlight pop the little bubble over you and Harry every time, though despite your disappointment of being brought back from your own perfect world where all you have and need is each other, you’re quick to get over it because it just means it’s time to climb back in his window and go to sleep in each other's arms.

All you had with him was friendship, but it felt like so much more than that. He gave you butterflies, he made you feel free and invited you to be a part of his world when you had no one. When you were with him, you had nothing to hide. He gave you this warm feeling that you had never felt before, a safe feeling. A feeling of home.

All you desperately wanted was to be more than friends, but you were simultaneously so scared of losing what you had with him. The love you had him was unfathomable, you couldn’t wrap your head around it and nothing made you more scared than losing him.

He was scared, too.

Despite being enlightened that your feelings were mutual, Harry couldn’t comprehend in his mind what you had, It didn’t make sense to him that you could love each other so deeply but not be together. He wanted to be mindful that you were heading in completely different directions in life, knowing your dreams of starting a startup and his dreams of having a career in music. He was scared that if you both wanted different things you’d lose each other forever. And he can’t lose you. 

So he pulled away. He forgot to invite you to his X-Factor audition, making up some lame excuse that everything’s been so hectic and he knew how stressed you were about our own future. It hurt your feelings, because in spite of his carefully crafted excuses, you could tell he didn’t invite you on purpose. 

It quickly became apparent that not inviting you wasn’t just a mistake, because he didn’t hold you safely and securely in his arms after you watched the sunrise anymore, kissing the back of your head as you fell asleep tangled in each other. He didn’t kiss you like he used to, no butterflies forming in either of your stomachs, his hand barely grazing your cheeks as he reluctantly connected your lips. Eventually he barely kissed you at all. 

He wanted you so bad, but he wasn’t willing to lose you to get you.

But he pulled so far away that you were barely in sight anymore. He tried to convince himself it was for the best, because at least this way you’d always be on good terms and he’d always have you in his life. He’d always have a part of you. But he missed the smell of you in his sheets, he missed the way you rubbed your nose against his when you were sleepy. He missed making you laugh so hard that you were practically falling off the roof (not that he’d ever let that happen, you were too secure in his arms to even slip an inch.

He wanted all of you, the good, the bad, the ugly. He wanted to wake up and see the remnants of your makeup from the night before still on your face, your sleepy smile completing the look. More than anything, he wanted to have you as his, to announce to everyone that he finally got the girl.

You wanted him just as bad, but his distance hurt you more than you’d ever admit to him. Harry had always made you feel free, like you can have anything you could possibly want. That is, except for him. 

That was the fucking catch. He gave you everything you could have ever wanted. You had the passion, the love, the sensitivity, the jokes. You had it all with him, except you never had him. That’s what sucked the most.

It wasn’t til graduation that you finally worked up the courage to put everything on the line. You went back with him to his house after everything with the school finished, him driving you because even after all this time, he absolutely never trusts your driving. 

“We need to talk,” you start ambiguously.

He laughs, raising his eyebrows as he turns to you for a second, “Should I be scared?”

“Maybe,” you mumble back, anxious and growing fidgety in the seat next to him. Harry clocked this, his hand coming to rest over yours to calm your fidgets down. Glancing over at you briefly, the worry was evident in his features. “H, you’ve always brought out the best in me and made me feel special when I had absolutely no one. I didn’t need anyone else because your friendship, our relationship is all I’ve ever needed. I mean, we’ve dreamt about our futures while we were fucking high on your roof, but when I told you about what I want in my future, I never told you that I wanted you. You’re all I see when I see my life five years from now. You’re all I want, H.”

Harry goes unusually quiet, processing what you told him. It’s uncomfortable, usually by now he would’ve made some inappropriate joke, called you stupid or even just reacted in some way. It’s painful when he looks at you for a moment as he’s stopped as a stop light, and it’s blatantly obvious to you that he’s carefully considering what to say next. 

“Y/N, you’re my bestfriend-“

“Fuck that,” you laugh dryly, unimpressed and masking your hurt with anger.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you raise your voice slightly. “I fucking get it. It’s fine. But I can’t be your friend, Harry. Fuck that. I want more than that.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” his voice is a whisper, tears beginning to form in his eyes before he roughly wipes them away, clearing his vision as he parks in front of his house and turns to meet your gaze. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I can’t be just your friend.”

This moment still replayed in your head like a broken record for years later. 

Maybe you were stupid for letting him go, but you might’ve driven yourself insane if you were still his best friend after everything that you’ve been through together. It wasn’t sustainable for you to continue to just be there, waiting for him to decide that you’re what he wants or, scarily, sticking by him and watching him be with another girl. It would have ruined you to see him treat another girl the way you wanted him to treat you.

You ran into him when he was strolling London a few years later, on his rare day off from touring and concerts and meetings. Even though the run in was supposed to be short you got to talking and laughing and he saw that sparkle in your eye again, something that he hadn’t seen in years and something that made him feel at home. Old habits die hard, and you and Harry ended up staying up all night together, catching up. It felt like you were seventeen again, hopelessly and foolishly in love with a man you could never have.

Before you left the next morning, he grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him. “I have to see you again. Please, Y/N, don’t say goodbye forever.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, contented that after all these years apart, you finally have a part of him again. You always had a part of him, you just didn’t know it. “Take me to your album’s party tomorrow?”

And he did, picking you up sporting that grin that made you weak in the knees. He was proud, introducing you to his friends, showing you off on his arm. It felt right.

As the night started getting old, Harry laced his fingers in yours and led you out to the balcony, escaping the chaos and noise inside and making the world just about the two of you. Letting go of his hand, you stepped towards the railing and admired the view while Harry admired you, breath taken away as you turned your head back at him and smiled. Harry wondered how he ever let you go.

Tapping your shoulder gently, he prompts you to turn around to face him. His hand finds your cheek, tilting your face to face his and leaning in to kiss you, lips soft against yours and his free hand finding its home on your hip.

He finally felt like yours again.

[mylovelies-docx]

Silent Lovers

Inspired by THIS post. 

Just a cute little fluffy piece I wrote. It hasn’t been proofed, so any mistakes are mine. 

Word Count: 2350

Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff!

You fell in love with him just a little bit more every day.

His actions, his mannerisms, the glimmer in his eyes spoke of a man infinitely amused and in awe of the universe around him despite everything it had put him through. Poe Dameron may have been the Resistance’s best pilot, but he was also the reason so many people joined in the fight. Including you.

_____________

You had seen him buying galactic fruit from a bazaar on an allied planet that you had called home for years. His insignia emblazoned jacket marked him as a good guy, but his smile marked him as a kind man. His straight white teeth were easily visible, and his deep smile lines indicated a lifetime of grins.

You were too far away to hear their conversation, but you could tell that the stall owner was quite taken with him. They were laughing boisterously and exchanging quips rapid fire, pulling others around them into the conversation. The gravity of Poe Dameron sucked you in as well, and you orbited the outskirts of the group.

Poe was recruiting new members to his cause using only his charisma and charm. He never faltered on reasons to join and never stumbled through the sales pitch. He was confident in himself and his ability to sell the war efforts to this small group of traders and civilians. He succeeded, too.

You gained passage on a cargo ship heading to the Resistance base to supply yourself as a new recruit. Working as a mechanic for most of your life lent itself as a boon to your placement on base, and having sufficient flight and combat skills meant you could also be a substitute pilot on missions when required. But with so many X-wings coming in damaged and in need of repair after skirmishes with the First Order, your feet were planted firmly on the ground. Which was alright by you since all of your new friends were fellow mechanics or mission control crew.

It was also fine by you since you were able to discreetly observe Poe Dameron in his natural element as Commander and pilot. There were so many talented mechanics that you weren’t able to gain access to Poe’s X-wing, and therefore you were unable to get to know him up close. But you were content to watch from the sidelines and learn who he was by watching his interactions with others.

___________________

He had a smile or a special handshake with nearly everyone when things were calm. You could tell that he genuinely enjoyed speaking with and knowing everyone he worked with; whether that be the droids helping to repair his ship or the runners that brought out rations who were too young to fight. You enjoyed seeing his smile, since it was the first little thing you fell in love with.

Poe also had a habit of singing - quite loudly - when he was working on a task and feeling particularly playful. He was actually a good singer, but when Snap or Jessika gave him a look to shut up, he purposefully sang off key and out of tune to irritate them further. They would just roll their eyes and pretend to be annoyed, but they smiled when they looked away. Poe noticed these smiles and grinned even wider when he caught them.

Poe had even gotten his little droid, BB-8, to beep along with him. Poe would start whistling a tune and BB-8 would pick up right alongside him. It was cute to see the droid sway back and forth while it was ‘singing’, but your focus was drawn to the sound of Poe’s voice as he started up the chorus.

Whether or not his singing was out of contentment or playfulness, you loved to hear it. You often hummed along to yourself, five or six stations away on the opposite side of the hangar, far out of reach of Poe’s ears and eyes.

You loved to hear him sing, because that meant everything was okay for the moment. Your heart skipped a beat every time you caught even a note.

__________________

The constantly tousled brown curls that rested on Poe’s head were disastrous to your heart, as well. Anxious or nervous, laughing or silly, Poe was notorious for running his hands through his hair and shaking out the curls. You saw him do this on many occasions, unfortunately they were mostly out of stress and fear. 

Before an important mission, Poe would give his team a pep talk and try to instill a fearlessness in them. He would be serious and stoic, resting a hand on someone’s shoulder and pointing and motioning with the other. He would clap twice then rub his hands together feverishly, dismissing his squadron and turning his focus onto preparing himself. Poe would take a deep breath with his hands on his hips, then on the exhale scrub his hands frantically through his hair. His face was always set in a determined expression, but you could tell by the chaotic set of his curls how anxious he really was.

On one such ritual, Poe caught you staring from across the hangar. You froze for a second, mentally berating yourself for watching him for too long. 

Heart in your throat and stomach somewhere around your knees, you gave a weak smile and two thumbs up. Your first interaction with the man you were silently in love with.

Poe gave a little huff of laughter and mimicked your gesture. With a small grin on his lips and in seemingly better spirits, he climbed into his X-wing and pulled a helmet over his beautifully disheveled hair.

                                                            ******

Poe Dameron knew a lot of people, but he didn’t know you. You, who he’d never seen before until that day. You were cute in an unassuming way; flushed cheeks and messy hair, grease stains on your clothes and face. The little thumbs up you had given him was enough to get him in his cockpit and out into the fray. You had no idea how much he had needed encouragement from someone other than himself in that moment.

After that mission, Poe took to watching you. You didn’t know each other, but he liked to think he knew you just by observing. 

He fell in love with you a little bit more every day. 

Your expressions, your posture, your smile that lit up a room and illuminated everything within its path. You may have been one of the best mechanics on base, but you were also one of the loveliest people Poe had never met.

______________

Poe was not typically shy; he had a loud mouth, a hot temper, and no impulse control. But when it came to you, he was a nervous wreck. Every time he got up the courage to introduce himself, someone either came along and roped him into a mission or you were so busy that you didn’t hear him clearing his throat behind you. (Those times were mortifying: Snap and Jess would chortle unabashedly at his misfortune, dying over the way he would ring his hands behind his back as he waited for you to turn around and notice him. Poe only ever stuck around for a few seconds until his courage was gone, but those few seconds were embarrassing.) He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt your work when you were so invested.

Your eyebrows would furrow together and create a little line right in the middle, tempting Poe to smooth it out; your mouth would curl up like you had witnessed something distasteful, begging Poe to give you something more to your liking, but sometimes you’d bite your lower lip and stick your tongue out in concentration, sending Poe’s blood careening through every vein; you would be hunched so far over your work bench that you basically had your chin pressed against the table, but Poe loved the way your face softened as you finally figured out what was wrong with the part in your hands.

One time, Poe sat huddled in the hangar with a group of pilots, waiting on the sudden storm to pass so that they could go out and train, when he noticed you run off into the rain. He sat mesmerized with a goofy grin on his mouth as he saw you fling your arms open and raise your face into the oncoming water. Your eyes were closed and your mouth was open in a wide smile full of pretty teeth. You spun in a circle a few times and nearly lost your balance, sending you into a fit of giggles that, unbeknownst to you, Poe joined in on. 

Jessika shoved an elbow into Snap’s waist when she caught their Commander with such a gooey expression. They both gave each other a look and brought Poe back into the conversation.

                                                           ******

You really didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore. Poe was all you could think of in your spare time and you ran the risk every day that he would catch you watching him again. But you couldn’t help it; he was just so handsome and good. You couldn’t get over this stupid, silent crush no matter how hard you fought it.

He doesn’t even know who you are, just that you’re some nerfherder that he caught staring at him.

A few months had passed since that happened, and you were no closer to knowing Poe on a personal level. Interestingly enough, though, Jessika Pava and Snap Wexley were becoming fast friends of yours. You were a bit intimidated at first, but they were both nice and funny, so you quickly let down your guard and hung out with them. They often brought up Poe, which made your cheeks warm everytime. You didn’t miss the knowing looks they gave you when you turned your face down and away from their prying eyes.

_________

It was an uncommonly windy day on D’Qar, so all of the pilots were grounded and unable to practice maneuvers. Everyone was resting on or against a pile of supply crates in the hangar, chatting and having a good time. You didn’t want to interrupt them, but you needed some materials from the crate that Jessika was situated on. Since you knew her and knew she wouldn’t be bothered by your interruption, you made your way over to the group quietly.

Poe was standing beside Snap on Jess’s other side, so you sidled up behind her and whispered in her ear:

“Boo.”

Jessika jolted off of the box and whirled around to face you. You were laughing so hard that you were bent over at the waist with tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from seizing the prime opportunity.

“Maker! You scared me half to death!” Jessika scolded, wagging a finger at you. Her heart was still racing, but she couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologized, wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You were still grinning from ear to ear and huffing out little breaths of laughter, causing Poe’s heart to constrict in his chest at the sight. You were so cute it hurt.

You were so close it hurt. You weren’t looking at him, but he could see your face up close for the first time, and it took his breath away. He had seen a million beautiful people across the galaxy, but there was something about you that was special in a way that none of them had been.

Jessika glanced quickly away from your smiling face to catch Poe with his mouth slightly open and eyes wide with longing. Finally, she had gotten these two idiots within speaking distance.

“Whatever: I forgive you. By the way…” Jessika said. Her eyes darted towards Poe, and yours followed along. Your breath stuttered out of your lungs as Jess grabbed Poe by the arm and tugged him closer. “Have you met Commander Dameron?”

Jessika released Poe’s arm and shoved him closer towards you. Poe nearly stumbled over his feet at the sudden pressure. He turned to give Jess a quick glare, but faced you again immediately. Your eyes were wide and your face was either still flushed from laughter or from nerves; either way, Poe was enamored.

“Poe,” he introduced. He extended an open palm towards you, hoping like hell that it wasn’t sweaty. His heart was racing, but a crooked grin stretched across one side of his face in anticipation.

“I know,” you replied, extending your hand in return. You cringed at your reply, pausing your hand on its way to meet his. You made a quick finger blaster with that same hand to point out that you had caught your slip. Poe chuckled adoringly at this gesture and proceeded to clasp hands when yours returned to the correct position.

You were absolutely horrified by what came out of your mouth and whatever the Maker your hand just did. Your social anxiety was at an all time high right now, and you weren’t making it any easier on yourself. You were shaky and you just knew that your underarms were pouring liquid, so you kept your one arm extended to shake Poe’s hand and the other crossed over your chest to grasp your opposite bicep. Even through the nerves, you could feel how warm his hand was.

Poe had a large and calloused hand, proof of all the years he had spent fighting. It radiated heat into your own palm and you didn’t know whose hand was providing all the sweat. Despite the awkwardness you had shoehorned into this meeting, you were thankful that it was finally happening.

“(Y/N),” you supplied.

“I know,” Poe grinned.

You had both fallen in love from a distance and now had the opportunity to fall in love up close and personal, building on top of the foundation you had both laid together silently and without the other’s notice.

You were no longer silent lovers, appreciating and admiring from afar, but finally intimate acquaintances. 

[depressedhatakekakashi]

From @kagami--uchiha prompt 'Blood Curdling Scream'

The plan was simple. Gai-sensei and Kakashi-sensei would be done with their soak in the hot tub soon and would return to the inn for a rest before the dinner plans they had made. While they were resting up, Tenten would finish up her costume and go to pay them a visit.

If everything went according to plan, Gai-sensei was in for the scare of a life time.

“Are you sure about this?” Mirai hovered behind her, watching as she applied a little too much eyeliner under her eyes. “They’re supposed to be on vacation. I’m certain that lord sixth…”

“Mirai-“

“Right, Sorry. Kakashi-sama would be upset if you did this wouldn’t he? It would interrupt his nice relaxing night.”

“I think he’ll get a kick out of it,” she argued, setting the eyeliner down and moving on to the lipstick. “Kakashi-sensei was always a bit of a troll. Though, he was rather good at keeping it hidden from most people,” not her though. She could sniff out a fellow troll from a mile away, and the look of fear in her Sensei’s eyes when he realized the mistake he had made in introducing the two of them was a fond memory she would cling to until the day she died. “he’ll probably laugh when Gai-sensei jumps into his arms screaming.”

There was a chance that he may even end up thanking her for it. What better way to spend some quality time with one’s husband than to have to comfort them after a traumatizing event?

“And…done!” Setting the lipstick down, she examined her face in the mirror. The lipstick wasn’t the best choice for blood, but it did the job just fine in these circumstances. “It looks rather good, if I do say so myself.”

“It certainly looks…realistic.” Perfect. Just what she was hoping for.

Now it was just time to wait.

Five minutes until they were due at the restaurant that Gai had picked out for them. After a nice relaxing day exploring the little village and soaking in the hot tubs, he was looking forward to a quiet dinner with his husband.

“You ready to go?” Clipping his pack into place around his waist, he glanced over at Gai, an amused look flickering in his eyes when he saw him already wheeling towards the door. “Of course you are. Why did I think I needed to ask?”

“you should know better, Rival,” stopping in front of the door, he leaned forward to grab the handle and carefully slid it open. “There’s never a time when you’ll beat m-“

A blood curdling scream filled the small room, forcing Kakashi to cover his ears and watch as his husband attempted to wheel himself backwards only to have his wheelchair collide with the small table sitting in the middle of the room, sending him crashing down to the ground.

“Gai!” Rushing forward, he reached for a Kunai. Ready to face whoever it was that had managed to scare his husband. Rather than finding an enemy come to try and take out the ex-hokage and his husband, he was instead greeted with an all too familiar face. “Tenten…”

Granted, he could understand his husbands reaction. The woman looked like she had blood pouring from her lips, with dark circles under her eyes and contacts that made her eyes look whiter than the byakugan.

She looked like a ghost, come back from the dead for revenge against those who had wronged her. Unfortunately for Gai, he had been her target and her little prank had worked all too perfectly.

“Ah, come on Kakashi-sensei,” stepping into the room, she bumped her shoulder against his playfully. “It was funny.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” glancing towards his husband, he couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the look of horror on his face. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear that Tenten had actually managed to kill her Sensei with her joke. “I guess dinner will have to wait…”

[hongism]

feels like floating (when i’m with you) - j.yh x k.hj

↣ pairing: k. hongjoong x j. yunho ↣ genre: angst/fluff/sfw, single dad!yunho, teacher!hongjoong ↣ wc: 27.2k ↣ ao3 version here (contains smut) ↣ summary: liking yunho is akin to the smell of rain after a bad thunderstorm, the first star that appears in the night sky, and the last drop of sunset before the night descends. hongjoong isn’t sure if it’s his favorite thing or the one he fears the most.

​​​

Kim Hongjoong starts his days alone. Gets out of bed, does his morning routine, then goes to the elementary school ten minutes from his apartment all on his own. He runs through the monotonous and unending routine of teaching classes and watching the children on his own, sometimes stopped by another teacher in the hallway for a small chat but they never last long. Afternoons see Hongjoong watching the kids leave the school and staying in the classroom for an extra two or so hours for the one student who doesn’t get picked up until far later than usual. Then he heads home alone and concludes his day in the all too small apartment that is perfect for someone like him. “Someone like him” being a person who doesn’t need a lot to live happily or a lot to take care of himself. He has friends and family, people around him that he talks to on a daily basis, but there’s always something lacking and a certain feeling that nags at his heart when he sees parents with their children or couples in the street or his two best friends fawning over each other because they couldn’t be more in love.

And so, Kim Hongjoong starts his days alone and ends them lonely.

“Akemi darling, did your father say when he’s coming to pick you up?” Hongjoong squats down to be eye level with the little girl, bringing a hand to brush over her jet black hair and comb through the slight frizz in it. She shifts to grin at him, crooked little teeth gleaming like pearls in the yellow sunlight.

“Daddy said he’d be late again today!” She speaks with such enthusiasm and brightness, as though without a care in the world, and Hongjoong half-wishes he could hold the same optimism that all his students have. Akemi always has had this attitude about her — a never-ending joy to her disposition that Hongjoong can’t place. One would think that the little girl would at least be bothered by the fact that her dad can’t seem to pick her up on time no matter what. However, she just skips around the classroom once all the other first graders have left and waits patiently as Hongjoong conducts his afterschool work. Then roughly around five o’clock – a little over two hours after school finishes for the day – a tall, young man who can’t possibly be much older than Hongjoong (if older at all) rushes through the hallways and raps at Hongjoong’s classroom door to pick her up.

Jeong Yunho. A strangely Korean name for someone whose daughter bears a Japanese one, but Hongjoong assumes that’s on account of Akemi’s mother and the fact that they live in Kyoto. Speaking of the girl’s mother, Hongjoong has never seen the woman before. She has never come to pick Akemi up from school, never come to school functions, parent-teacher meetings (not that Hongjoong has ever had to have one with Akemi’s parents since she’s his best student), and he has never heard any mention of her in the slightest. He has Yunho’s contact information and nothing else, so — and it’s not any of Hongjoong’s business honestly, just a thought that nags at the edges of his mind — he can only assume that Yunho is a single father.

That thought is the only reason why Hongjoong even considers staying so late after hours to look after the girl. That along with the fact that every single time Jeong Yunho comes bursting into his classroom, the man looks like he has run three marathons in a row and has no time to remember to put his ass on in the morning. (He never forgets to though. Hongjoong has checked. On occasion. Discreetly, of course, he can’t very well ogle his student’s father in plain daylight.)

But in any case, the man seems to have a hard enough life, so Hongjoong doesn’t mind looking after Akemi. It’s not like he has anything else to do with his life outside of the elementary school; all he does is go home, do some planning for future classes, maybe watch some television or read a book, then go to sleep. On weekends, Hongjoong might get daring enough to go to the bar with his friends Wooyoung and San, but recently that has been nigh impossible since he can’t bear to see them fawn over each other for more than ten minutes. He only has himself to blame for that at the end of the day. He was the one who introduced the pair and set them up on a date together, so yes, mistakes were made, Hongjoong admits it, and he regrets it only half-heartedly because they are genuinely happy together.

Back to the matter at hand though, Hongjoong just genuinely enjoys his job as a teacher and taking care of his students no matter what. Even if it means losing a bit of time in his all too small and dingy apartment once school is over.

“Same time as usual?” Hongjoong inquires, tilting his head a bit to the left. A soft smile creeps onto his lips, an attempt to comfort the girl even tho it’s unneeded since she still bears the same smile as always.

“Maybe!” Akemi pulls her head up and draws the colored pencil in her hand, scanning her little drawing with critical eyes. “Do you think Daddy will like it, Mr. Hong?”

Hongjoong releases a loud laugh at the girl’s nickname for him, and Akemi grins back as bright as ever. She adopted the nickname at some point during the first term, maybe back in May once it started becoming a daily thing for him to look after her every day once school concluded. She didn’t miss a beat during summer break either, coming back in September to continue with the same schedule and nickname.

“I’m sure he will love it, little butterfly.” If possible, the girl positively glows at the nickname, one that Hongjoong gave her quite some time ago on a whim.

“I think we’re running out of room on the fridge. But Daddy loves hanging my pictures up.” Akemi hums to herself and lifts the colored pencil once more to continue her work. “Mr. Hong, when can we do lessons again?”

“Hm? We have lessons every weekday.”

“No! Piano lessons! We haven’t had lessons in a long time!” Akemi protests, slamming her little hand flat against the desk with a small huff. She whips around to face Hongjoong, and in that moment Hongjoong is taken aback by how brightly her eyes shine at the thought of the small lessons.

In another life, perhaps Hongjoong would have been a professional pianist since that is what he studied and labored after in university, but those dreams eventually fell flat and he traded them for the thought of being a teacher instead. Being able to teach Akemi… it lets him get to have one last glimpse into those dreams and think about what it could have been like to fulfill them, to see himself in her and watch the way her eyes light up when she plays a certain passage correctly. Hongjoong has never dreamt of having children himself – being a teacher is more than enough exposure to kids as it is – but he thinks that having a kid like Akemi would make the experience quite a bit better.

“Maybe tomorrow? Your dad will be by soon to pick you up so I don’t think we have enough time today.” Hongjoong offers through a small smile, and Akemi just bobs her head in agreement. She brings her blue colored pencil back down to her little drawing and continues to color without a care in the world.

And sure enough, it’s only seven minutes later that a hand comes down on the door to the classroom, rapping at the wood frantically until Hongjoong moves to open it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim. I had a meeting run late, then got caught in some traffic because there was an accident on the highway. I tried to get over here as fast as possible, but I know I’m still pretty late. I’m sorry for keeping you late. Again. As usual,” Yunho rambles as he comes face to face with Hongjoong. The rant is a typical one, one that both isn’t necessary and is entirely understandable so Hongjoong doesn’t feel a need to hear it. Still, he responds with a wide smile and flashes his teeth.

“It’s perfectly alright, Mr. Jeong. Akemi is a delight to be around as always. We worked on some drawings today! I believe she has one for the fridge at home.” Hongjoong steps aside to let the man step into the classroom, willing himself not to look at the way his white button-up clings to his body and strains around his broad shoulders. Yunho leans over the desk Akemi sits at. A grin pulls at his lips in an instant, a quick change to his demeanor as he sees his daughter that causes his cheeks to glow with joy. There’s something so raw and beautiful about the love in his eyes, a kind of love that transcends the need for words, and Hongjoong can see it often in the parents of his students. Fascinating. He doesn’t know how else to describe the emotion but in his twenty-six years of life, he has seen a multitude of different loves. This one is the most fascinating to him since he doesn’t have a child of his own to experience it with.

“Daddy, daddy! I drew a butterfly today! A pretty blue one! We can put it at the tippy top of the fridge like it’s flying, right?”

“Of course, Mimi.”

Mimi. Huh. Hongjoong definitely does not think about what it would be like to call the little girl by that name. That would be something too grossly domestic and beyond the line of things that are okay for him to say as a teacher. Because that’s all he is. A teacher. Yunho’s daughter’s teacher. Yeah. He’s doing great, by the way, just peachy.

“Why’d you draw a butterfly, little one? Hm?” Yunho runs his all too long fingers through the little girl’s hair as she shows off the drawing to her father, smiles nearly identical in the way they scrunch their cheeks and noses.

“Mr. Hong calls me little butterfly! So I wanted to draw one!”

“That’s…” Yunho shifts to look at the much shorter man, and Hongjoong just about throws up on the spot. The man sinks his front teeth into his lip, biting back a smile that has Hongjoong’s insides turning to mush.

Fuck, he has a really nice smile.

Like a terribly nice one that is exactly the kind Hongjoong would fall for in seconds back in high school or college. He blanches. All the color leaves his cheeks and blood rushes down to his toes. It’s not weird to give students nicknames, right? Why does it feel like Hongjoong is overstepping his boundaries? It feels like he’s done something wrong and–

“Her mother used to call her that.”

Oh dear god. Hongjoong has truly fucked up beyond belief. This is the end of him. He had no way of knowing – how the hell would he have figured that out? – but he still feels like he has walked to the end of a plank and leaped into shark-infested waters without anything to protect him from their sharp teeth. Maybe being eaten alive would be better than this awkwardness though. Maybe Hongjoong needs to see someone for thinking such a thing.

Yunho seems to catch what he has just said a moment later and shakes his head fervently, brown bangs fanning over his forehead with the movements.

“Ah, sorry, why – why did I say that?” Yunho huffs out a shaky and nervous laugh that somehow still sounds pretty to Hongjoong’s ears even though it shouldn’t. “Um, thank you again for… yeah, uh, for watching her as usual. Um, I tried to call the school and let you know that I would be late again but I forgot the whole ‘no calls after school hours’ part!”

“I can just give you my cellphone number?” The words are out of Hongjoong’s mouth before he can stop them, and damn, he really needs to learn how to hold his tongue around this man. His jaw stays hanging open well after he finishes speaking, but he’s still reeling from the shock of hearing himself say such a thing. Yunho blinks back at him with wide, doe-like eyes. Somewhere in the back of Hongjoong’s mind, he distinctly thinks pretty, but that thought is rudely shoved aside as he tries to recover the situation. “Like, I mean, so you can – to tell me if you’re going to be late. On a school day. So I know if I need to watch her.”

Good riddance, Kim Hongjoong. Like you don’t watch her every day regardless.

“Um, yeah, only if you’re sure? I wouldn’t wanna intrude into your personal life or anything. That would be inappropriate of me…” Yunho trails off to look at some random piece of furniture in the corner of the room.

“I’m sure! That would – that would probably be best honestly. I mean, the receptionist leaves so soon after the school closes that you wouldn’t ever be able to reach me if you’re running late. You wouldn’t be intruding. Not like I have much of a personal life outside of teaching anyway, uh, why am I telling you that? That’s not important, um, phone number! Let me write it down for you!”

Hongjoong turns on his heel to go find whatever he can to scribble his number on before he chickens out too much, head reeling and spinning. He knocks into one of the desks along the way and almost trips over the chair, which causes Yunho to lunge forward in a rush to catch him, but Hongjoong flings a hand up to ward him off.

“I’m fine! Ha, should watch my step! Might knock into a table or something, right?” Hongjoong tries to flash a toothy smile, eyes turning into soft crescents just before he knocks into yet another desk.

“Mr. Hong! You’re so clumsy today,” Akemi giggles. Hongjoong’s embarrassment surges as Yunho looks over him with nothing but sheer concern, and the temptation of crawling into a hole for the rest of his life sneaks up. He can almost hear San chastising him for thinking such a thing though, a small nagging voice in the back of his mind saying ‘no, Joong, you can’t just become a hobbit even if you are the size of one’. Rude as hell, first of all, because hobbits don’t really live in holes, and Hongjoong is not the size of one but that’s beside the point.

Hongjoong finally reaches his own desk in one piece and tugs out a plain sticky note to write his number down as hastily as possible. Akemi continues speaking to her dad, telling him some story about what she did on the playground during recess today and how another student’s mother came to pick him up early. Hongjoong really tries not to listen in (because again not his business!) but there does lie a distinct sense of longing in Akemi’s tone, even if she’s too young to truly understand what that longing is. Whether it’s a desire for her father to come sooner when he picks her up or an inherent desire to have another parental figure in her life, it’s present and there and hurts Hongjoong’s heart a bit more than it should.

He pushes that to the side in favor of carrying the sticky note, which now holds his cell number of all things on it, to Yunho.

“You can just, uh, call or text whenever. On weekdays of course.”

“Yeah, on weekdays, schooldays, yeah.” Yunho bobs his head while speaking, hastily agreeing with Hongjoong before taking the sticky note from his hands. Their hands may or may not make contact when he does so – one of Yunho’s long and spindly fingers running over Hongjoong’s knuckles – and Hongjoong full-on panics at the small contact, yanking his hand away in a rush with an embarrassing blush creeping up his neck. At this point, Wooyoung would probably point and laugh at him then call him a whole gay disaster and a half.

“Well, I hope you have a good evening!” Hongjoong blurts to break the tense silence.

“Thank you, yeah, thank you. Um, you too! And thank you again for always staying late for her. I know you aren’t paid for that and it’s probably a burden.”

“It’s – look, it’s no issue at all, I promise. I wouldn’t be a teacher if I didn’t enjoy spending time with kids, and Akemi is a delight to be around as always. She’s so well behaved and wonderful. Reminds me of myself when I was her age!” Hongjoong reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, laughing off Yunho’s concern as best he can.

“Are you saying you’re well-behaved, Mr. Kim?” Yunho chuckles a bit under his breath. There’s no alternative meaning to his words. There is not. Hongjoong cannot read into that. He refuses to think too deeply about it. So why does his brain go straight to the bedroom? For fuck’s sake, Hongjoong needs a drink, and preferably the strongest one imaginable.

“I used to be, at least.” Hongjoong really needs to stop putting his foot in his mouth like this. Yunho most definitely picks up on the possible innuendos in the topic at hand because his eyes grow a bit wide with each passing second, then he chokes on a cough, dipping his chin to his chest in a hurry to hide his embarrassment. “Uh, in any case, don’t feel bad about being a bit late to pick her up. I get the sense that you have a very busy life on top of being a father. I don’t want you to feel rushed if you have more to deal with.”

“I mean, that’s life, isn’t it?” Yunho reaches down to comb his fingers through Akemi’s hair again, a soft and fond smile painting his lips as he looks at the little girl. “Alright, Mimi, let’s get home. I still have to cook dinner and get you in bed on time.”

Hongjoong would be lying if he said that he isn’t bothered by those words. Because they nearly confirm that Yunho is taking care of Akemi on his own and without help. He’s the one to bring her to school, pick her up, take her home, cook dinner, tuck her in, and work late hours. Hongjoong doesn’t understand how he can do all that on his own. He can hardly take care of himself and remember to put food in his body; he can’t imagine having to be fully responsible for another human being the way Yunho has to. If he were more bold and perhaps less of a disaster himself, he might offer to do more to help the man. It isn’t his place to offer, however, and he is still making presumptions with all this.

“Can we invite Mr. Hong to dinner, Daddy? As a thank-you gift like you mentioned?” Akemi whips to face her father, bright eyes stretched impossibly wide.

Cue the alarm bells and sirens of panic. Hongjoong is just about losing his mind, in case you couldn’t tell, and he should not be so thrown into disarray the way he is. Maybe it has just been that long since he had even an ounce of mediocre human contact with anyone outside his immediate friend group that the idea of spending time with a new person sends him into an alternate dimension of extroversion.

“A-Ah, I couldn’t intrude in such a way.” Hongjoong shakes his head even though no one is looking directly at him.

“I’m, uh, I’m sure Mr. Kim has other plans for dinner. We shouldn’t spring plans on him like this, darling. Maybe—” Yunho shifts to look at Hongjoong with an imperceptible gleam to his eyes that will have him thinking for weeks about what it could mean “—maybe some other time.”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Like you mentioned.”

Hongjoong really doesn’t have a crush on the man or anything like that; Yunho is merely a rather attractive man and happens to be his ideal type. But the prospect that the comment has does make his stomach do a little flip and turn every which way, and that is dangerously close to developing feelings for the man. So, he does what any logical anxiety-ridden human being would do.

“I’m free on Friday. If, well, if that might work for you.”

Yunho’s thin lips fall agape, tongue poking forward to swipe over the front of his teeth.

“That… actually, yeah, that would work. Are you sure though? I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I could always get you a gift card if you’d rather.”

“No, no, I’d love to come for dinner. If you’ll have me that is.” Hongjoong, you dipshit, he literally offered.

“Of course we will. I would really love to thank you for all you do for Akemi and me. I just… don’t how else to do it.” Yunho motions towards the little girl, who now hums happily to herself and collects her belongings into her school bag. “She’s been wanting to invite you for quite some time but I was, uh, nervous about asking you to do more than you already do.”

“I can’t think of anything better than a nice dinner.” Hongjoong offers up a small shrug if only to quell the churning of nerves in his gut that only heightens when one side of Yunho’s lips quirks up into a smile.

“Well then, I’d better hope my cooking can live up to those expectations.”

I’m sure it can. Hongjoong has to bite the tip of his tongue to keep the words from slipping out but he manages to return Yunho’s grin with one of his own.

“You can let me know a good time that works for you whenever we’re closer to Friday. I’m sure my schedule will be clear.”

And maybe when Hongjoong breathes the words out in a tone that is a bit airy and light, Yunho’s wide eyes blink back at him with as much gratitude as those dark orbs can hold. There’s such a gentle warmth to them that Hongjoong truly feels like he is the one doing something nice for the man rather than the other way around.

…

“So let me get this straight, even though this is far from the straight category,” Wooyoung starts, palms facing Hongjoong’s exasperated expression as he mulls over his next words. San sits at his side with an equally perceptive stare, but Hongjoong doesn’t bother to look at the latter man. “You want your student’s father’s dick up your ass?”

“Wooyoung, no!” Hongjoong protests in an instant, already midway to dropping his head on the granite countertop. How he could afford an apartment with such granite is mind-boggling, but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes.

“Then you want your dick up his ass? Look, hyung, it’s either one or the other. You can’t have both at once, maybe you can alternate days or something but—”

“I wonder if you could though,” San chirps. He shifts to look at his lover who sends a confused glance in his direction with little other acknowledgment. Hongjoong already knows where this conversation is headed without needing San to continue it at all, but the man must not pick up on Hongjoong’s mental screams for him to stop. “I suppose the actual asshole and dick are too far apart for that to be probable… unless you’ve got a toy. Then you can simultaneously ride a toy and fuck someone and have the best of both worlds.”

“Why are we having this conversation? We do not need to be having this conversation! At all!”

“Dipshit, just have a threesome at that point,” Wooyoung remarks before shifting to smack San’s arm hard with the back of his hand.

“Is that your way of saying you wanna invite Seonghwa over?”

“No, you idiot, Seonghwa is engaged.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes as though San has just said the unspeakable, then returns to staring Hongjoong down with sharp eyes. He pauses a moment there, seeming to remember something, and chimes up once more, “Besides, I dipped my toes in those waters, and Seonghwa is far too gentle and vanilla for my liking. I’m sure Yeosang absolutely adores that himself, but I need to be demolished in the bedroom.”

“Gross, just – too much information, Wooyoung!” Hongjoong groans. The man in question just lifts his hands to his head as though to defend himself.

“Okay, first of all, I will personally body you just for saying that in front of Hongjoong. Secondly, when the fuck did you sleep with Seonghwa?”

“Like… um, a couple months before he and Yeosang got together? I don’t really remember it all too well because – well, it was boring, okay? Don’t tell him I said that, he’ll rip me a new one.”

“I would pay to see Seonghwa fight you honestly.” San glances over Wooyoung’s smaller frame, eyes narrowed in a way that shows he’s mentally measuring Wooyoung up with Seonghwa, who is far taller than him to begin with so that’s just a disaster waiting to happen.

“I know you would, which is why I’m not giving you head for the next three days just for that.”

“God, you two are so gross.”

“Three days? Come on, isn’t that a bit harsh?”

“Hello, um, can we talk about my gay panicking instead?” Hongjoong pleads, motioning towards himself with flopping hands, and Wooyoung only snorts in response at first. San huffs out a sigh but relents in the discussion. He leans towards Wooyoung, chin coming to a rest atop the man’s shoulder, and despite all Wooyoung’s insistence that he was annoyed, he just leans into the touch. A hand reaches up to comb through San’s black hair.

You see, Hongjoong might be fascinated by the love a parent harbors for their child, but there is something else that sends him reeling far more often. The most daunting and terrifying kind of love is the romantic one that he runs from so often. Maybe that is why he can’t bear to be around Wooyoung and San as much as he used to because they display it with such ease and carelessness, like love doesn’t hurt or burn or ache the way Hongjoong knows it does. He has had many a relationship in all his time on Earth, and unfortunately, they have all ended in a crashing burn of flames and chaos – quite literally for his last relationship – so forgive him if he is a bit bitter and scalded by those failures.

It isn’t that he is not happy on his own. He has a nice apartment meant for one and that’s lovely, along with the betta fish Seonghwa and Yeosang bought for him as a moving-in gift named Karl, who is cherished company even if he just swims around his tank without doing much of anything. The point being that Hongjoong has never actively sought out a relationship or a special someone because he has never thought that he actually needed it.

Why seek something that could hurt you when you’re perfectly fine on your own?

“Listen, this is all beside the point,” he starts, waving a dismissive hand through the air in an effort to shut the other two men up. “We’re here to talk about how I accidentally agreed to go to his house for dinner knowing damn well that I don’t know how to socialize with a stray cat in the street let alone a very cute man who happens to be my type.”

“So you have a date.”

“It’s not a date, Woo! It is a somewhat casual thank you dinner that is… quite casual.”

“Date or not, you better not wear that fucking sweater vest that you insist looks good,” San remarks. His lips curl into a scowl, and he shakes his head ever so slightly at the mere thought of said article of clothing.

“Hey! It does look good!”

“It makes you look like you’re going through a midlife crisis!”

“Well, maybe I am!”

“You damn well must be if you’re behaving like this but still insisting that you aren’t even a little bit attracted to this man and don’t see potential in him!”

San’s words shut Hongjoong right up in an instant. Of course, the man isn’t wrong about the statement. Maybe that is what Hongjoong has been adamantly avoiding since Monday, and these past four days have just been a blur of anxiety surrounding the potential of falling for Yunho. Wooyoung must read the distress on his features.

“You can always back out and say that you need to raincheck. You shouldn’t cause yourself any extra worry over something like this.” Wooyoung draws his brows together to add to the concern already on his features.

“Kind of shitty of me to cancel an hour before the dinner,” Hongjoong grumbles, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest in a defensive manner that Wooyoung picks up on instantly.

“Joong…” There is far too much sympathy in his stare; maybe if Hongjoong were feeling particularly self-loathing, he would go so far as to say it looks like pity. He knows deep down that it isn’t pity. Wooyoung has been with him for every breakup in the past eleven years, they have been best friends for longer than that, and perhaps at one odd point during their teenage years, they had an escapade of their own that caused issues in some of Hongjoong’s relationships before. Yet even though Wooyoung knows him better than anyone on the face of the planet, it is always San who picks him apart like he’s a book. Hongjoong feels his prying and perceptive gaze on the side of his face before he says a word, and he makes the impulse decision to spew nonsense just to save himself from San’s impending lecture.

“I’m not interested! I’m not, and I don’t want to be. I will do this one dinner so he can feel fucking better about himself, then I will put all thoughts of him behind me.”

San draws his lips into a tight purse.

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t see any hint of potential in him.”

Hongjoong jerks to look the taller man in the eye, gaze wavering a bit as he tries to come up with a reasonable and believable response. That is answer enough for San, and he shakes his head with a frown painting his features now.

“Don’t throw away something good just because you’re scared, Hongjoong.”

“I’m not scared.”

Lie. They all know it too.

“Then promise to see this dinner through without trying to sabotage yourself.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong relents. That must be enough for San because he flips his frown into a soft-sided grin and nods in his direction. As though on cue, his phone dings with a notification atop the counter, and Hongjoong glances down at the device at the same time that the other two men do.

“Prince Charming awaits!” Wooyoung chirps through a toothy grin. Hongjoong has half a mind to lean across the counter and smack him upside the head, but instead, he snatches up his phone to read the message that just came through. It is, as expected, an address complete with an all too cute smiley face emoji at the end that makes Hongjoong want to scowl just because of how damn adorable it is. He hastily types out a ‘thanks, I’ll be there soon’ response and hits send before Wooyoung can tell him to play up the flirting and hit on him. “Okay but seriously don’t put on that sweater vest!”

“Jeez, I won’t!” Hongjoong waves the man off as he retreats to his tiny bedroom only to have Wooyoung trail after him with shuffling feet.

“Do you still have that leather jacket I got you last year?”

“I’m not wearing a leather jacket to a dinner with my student and her father.”

“Can you at least wear something a little less… teacher-y?” Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him as he glances over Hongjoong’s closet in dismay.

“What are you trying to say?”

“You dress like an old man. I want you to at least look cute.” Wooyoung hums a little to himself while drumming his fingers over his chin. “White button-down with that brown cardigan you have and some cuffed jeans. And the black oxfords that you redesigned. So you can show off how cute and artsy you are! Oh, do you still have those wireframe glasses you used to wear so much? Let’s get those too.”

“Isn’t this too much effort? What if he’s just – I don’t know, wearing sweatpants?”

“You really think he’s gonna be wearing sweatpants?”

“I, well, maybe not—” Wooyoung interrupts him with a harsh slap to the back of his arm, knuckles hitting his skin so hard that it burns a bit.

“Good, now go get changed. No complaining or I’ll bite your armpits.”

“That’s an oddly specific threat…”

“I said no complaining!”

Hongjoong grumbles a little under his breath as Wooyoung tosses the closes he picked out at his chest, then he slips into the bathroom to quickly slip into them. He shouldn’t even be putting this much effort into the outfit or reading too much into this dinner because it’s nothing more than a simple thank-you dinner. He keeps reminding himself of that fact over and over. It isn’t an invitation to be friends or to have some semblance of a casual relationship, even if Hongjoong would kinda like to be at least friends with Yunho. He’ll probably get there, talk with Yunho about Akemi’s schoolwork, then leave.

Wooyoung springs on him the second he steps out of the bathroom in the new outfit, hands pushing the wireframe glasses he mentioned earlier onto the bridge of Hongjoong’s nose and setting them straight. The man’s lips twitch into a smile as he leans back to admire his work.

“Perfect. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Wooyoung presses the pad of his index finger against the tip of Hongjoong’s nose, leaving him with that before stepping away and motioning towards the door. “Now go have fun, and try not to overthink this whole thing too much.”

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?”

“Oh hush, you twat. If nothing else, just take it as an opportunity to do something nice for yourself. I know clubbing with Sannie and me isn’t always your favorite, so here’s a chance for you to do something else. And! Since I know you and I know you would do something stupid, if he invites you to stay for drinks after his daughter goes to bed, you fucking say yes, okay?”

“He most definitely won’t do that but whatever.”

…

As it turns out, that is exactly what Yunho does. He corners Hongjoong while the shorter man stands at the sink, washing the plates used for dinner by hand because he demanded that Yunho let him do something in return for the incredible meal Yunho prepared for his visit. Perhaps Hongjoong just takes so little care of himself that any homecooked meal is a good one though; he is far too used to eating instant ramen on the couch after work and calling it a healthy diet by eating a handful of blueberries afterward. He couldn’t put a name to the dish Yunho made even though Yunho mentioned it when he walked in the door. His mind was too addled with anxiety because there the impossibly tall man stood with a crisp white button-up and really nice black trousers that definitely show off how good his ass is (not that Hongjoong could look for long because Akemi came rushing to the door as well).

All throughout dinner, Yunho kept him occupied with questions and menial chatter, things about the school and what the curriculum for the year is. It added up in Hongjoong’s mind; he had already figured that Yunho would wanna talk a lot about Akemi and school rather than anything personal. The scene was oddly intimate despite the less than personal questions. Just the three of them – Hongjoong, Yunho, and Akemi – seated around a small wooden table in a pretty standard suburban home. That was the moment Hongjoong got the nonverbal confirmation that Yunho is indeed a single father, then the verbal confirmation came when Hongjoong slipped his shoes off by the door upon Yunho’s prompting.

“It’s just the two of us, so I apologize if the house is a bit of a mess. I only have time to clean after work.”

Hongjoong insisted that it was fine and that he could not even see a single speck of dust in the house, which Yunho had laughed too loudly at and the sound rumbled in Hongjoong’s gut for too long.

Yunho is smart, Hongjoong will give him that. He makes sure to snag Hongjoong when he has no escape, hands coming to rest on the edge of the counter as he looks to the shorter man with wide and hopeful eyes. Hongjoong nearly drops the plate in his hand because of the way Yunho’s eyes seem to twinkle under the yellow lights of the kitchen.

“Um, you don’t have to say yes, but I got a bottle of red wine for tonight if you’d like to stay and have a drink? I’m about to put Akemi to bed. I normally, uh, drink alone on Friday nights.”

Well god fucking dammit Jeong Yunho, why did you have to say it like that? The man could probably weave the saddest sob story in existence with just those gleaming eyes, and Hongjoong would bend over backward for him because he can’t help himself. And Wooyoung’s words are ringing so loudly in his head that he can hardly think straight. He’s willing himself to say no despite what his friend said and the look in Yunho’s eyes, yet the words that actually come out of his mouth are —

“Yeah, I’d love to!”

Maybe the smile that decorates Yunho’s lips afterward makes it worth it.

“Cool, yeah, I’ll be quick I promise. She normally doesn’t take long to get tucked in.”

“That’s fine. Take your time!”

Yunho leaves with a nod, and it gives Hongjoong a moment to breathe easy while he’s gone. He takes his precious time in cleaning the remainder of the dishes just so that he can stay busy and not have to stand around waiting. In all honesty, this is a disaster waiting to happen. Wooyoung made sure to drive him over both because he wanted to see Hongjoong off and insisted that Hongjoong would get wasted while at Yunho’s so he had to be the responsible one. (As though Wooyoung has ever been responsible a day in his life; Hongjoong is always the designated driver on club nights because the man throws alcohol back like it’s his job). His alcohol tolerance could prove to be an issue though, so it’s probably for the best that Wooyoung drove him. Even a single glass of wine could make him tipsy, and he is a nervous drinker on top of that.

It’s fine, it’s fine. It will be fine. Just one glass of wine then you can tell him that your friend is waiting outside. Is it lame to have your twenty-five-year-old friend pick you up when you’re twenty-six? Why does this feel like high school?

Hongjoong doesn’t realize he’s standing at the sink and scrubbing a wet rag over the same plate over and over again until Yunho comes up on his right.

“You good?”

“Fuck – I mean shit, damn, um, fudge! Fudge. Yeah, fudge.”

Yup, there’s a great example for your kid, Yunho! Hongjoong mentally uppercuts himself in the nose as he sets the last plate on the drying rack and fumbles to put everything back in its proper place. Yunho huffs out a loud laugh, chin tipping back to expose the long column of his throat, and Hongjoong most definitely spends far too long staring at the way his tendons twitch.

“Well, that explains why Akemi always tells me to say fudge when I cuss in front of her.” He shakes his head, still laughing a bit under his breath. He slips away from Hongjoong’s side, and the shorter man uses it as an opportunity to catch his own breath and calm his racing heart. “You big on wine, Mr. Kim?”

Mr. Kim. The name sounds a bit odd and foreign on Yunho’s tongue in such a setting, and Hongjoong has to tell himself that that discomfort is the reason why he says what he does next.

“You can call me H-Hongjoong if you’d rather.” He can’t keep from stuttering in his sudden state of nervousness, and Yunho twists to look back at him from the other side of the kitchen.

“With the stammer and everything?” Yunho jokes through a hum. Hongjoong whips around to face him, a bit of disbelief coating his expression, and the other man just lifts two empty wine glasses and motions back towards the dining table. “You can call me Y-Yunho then. For solidarity.”

Hongjoong would really love to punch him in that pretty mouth of his because curse him for being the entire package. Was being tall and attractive not enough? God had to make him cute and adorable, along with having a beautiful natural flush to his cheeks that comes out when he smiles or laughs? And he has a nice ass and a good sense of humor? Hongjoong is absolutely screwed and not in the way he wants to be. He is gonna leave this dinner tonight fully whipped for this man. The brief and fleeting thought to call Wooyoung for backup and get the hell out of here earlier than intended crosses his mind, but that is swept away when Yunho straddles a chair and spreads his legs far wider than is even remotely necessary. Hongjoong’s body just moves on its own at that point, and he finds the seat on Yunho’s left.

It feels like there is lead rushing through his veins rather than blood. Almost a heady sensation like Hongjoong is already drunk despite not having had a drop of alcohol yet. Yunho rectifies that quickly though, pouring a glass of the dark red liquid and passing it over to Hongjoong with long fingers splayed over the bottom of the glass. He doesn’t drink from it right away as much as he wants to. It would be bad etiquette to start drinking before him surely, and the stretch grin Yunho wears when he notices the gesture almost hurts Hongjoong’s heart.

“So, Hongjoong, I don’t believe I know how old you are.” His name sounds really wonderful coming from Yunho’s lips, but that is a dangerous thought. And Yunho looks dastardly good taking a languid sip from his wine glass. Focus, Hongjoong, focus.

“I’m, uh, turning twenty-seven in early November.”

“Oh?” Yunho sounds genuinely surprised by that, head tilting to the side to accentuate his shock. “I would never have guessed. You hardly look twenty-three.”

“I get that a lot. Youthful genes blessed me.”

“Apparently so. I swear I’ve got to look older than you and I’m twenty-six.”

Ah. Younger than expected. Hongjoong honestly assumed the man was older than him simply because he has Akemi, and while the girl is only six, he figured Yunho would at least be upper twenties. He hopes that the shock doesn’t read too well on his features but he has no such luck.

“Shocking, I know. Had Akemi early while we were still in college. Lots of… it was both good and bad, but it turned out to be more than worth it in the end because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Yunho stares at the table while he speaks, but Hongjoong can see emotion shining clearly in his dark eyes regardless.

It’s that same raw and open one he saw before, the purest form of love he can think of, and he has to gulp down some wine to keep from getting overwhelmed by the mere sight of it. Despite having technically known Yunho for five (nearly six) months now, Hongjoong still can’t find it in him to think it’s appropriate to breach the subject of Akemi’s mother. This is still their first personal one on one conversation, the first time they’ve exchanged names, and Hongjoong can’t very well ask something so personal this soon.

“I’ve been a bit curious, so I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Yunho starts, looking to Hongjoong with a bit more fervor in his movements. “What made you think to call Akemi butterfly? I don’t think I’ve ever come across another person who calls her that.”

“Her mother used to call her that.”

Hongjoong should have prepared himself for the question because that statement Yunho had made earlier in the week opened a door that would come back to bite him later. This must be later.

“Um, I hope this doesn’t… sound odd or anything, but the first day she came to class, she had a clip in her hair. One with—”

“A blue butterfly on it,” Yunho finishes for him.

“Y-Yeah. It stood out to me since I’ve always liked butterflies myself.” Hongjoong thinks back to the pair of shoes he left by the door with small blue butterflies painted along the sides. “You probably didn’t see them when I came in, but my shoes – uh, they have butterflies on them too.” He motions past Yunho’s shoulder and towards the door, but Yunho only stares directly at him and nowhere else.

“I noticed that! It look hand-drawn too, or maybe painted?”

“Painted, yes. I reform clothes I own sometimes and shoes as well if I come up with a cool enough idea. Just a side hobby, I guess, like piano.” Hongjoong sips at his wine to busy himself and not focus on the way Yunho gazes at him intently. He isn’t used to this: talking about himself, his interests, things he does in his spare time. Wooyoung and San know him well enough to have witnessed his growth into those hobbies, and he doesn’t really have discussions like this with his fellow teachers. Maybe he mentioned it once or twice in passing to Seonghwa, but he and the man likely changed the topic quickly. It’s a little bit embarrassing for him as a twenty-seven-year-old to talk about what he enjoys doing like he’s back in high school or college. Something about the way Yunho offers an encouraging nod shoots that insecurity out the window.

“You know, Akemi talks about you a lot when I pick her up.” He drags a finger over the rim of his wine glass, eyes trained on the liquid inside. “She loves talking about you more than what she learned or her friends in the class. This is probably weird but I think I’ve learned a lot about you through her. The piano lessons and drawings, how you’ll sometimes draw pictures for her or show her your reformed clothes and shoes. I’m seriously grateful that you’re her teacher and that she has you in her life.” The words are spoken with too much emotion for Hongjoong’s liking, and his gut melds into a deep pit of growing agony.

“You don’t have to…” Hongjoong can’t even finish the thought. You don’t have to thank me, he wants to say. Yunho shakes his head.

“As much as I do to support us as a family and provide for her, it still falls short more often than not. Maybe this is too open of me, but I work a typical nine-to-five job as a business firm. Most if not all of my friends live out of town or work in similar fields and have lives like mine. When I have to go out of town for business trips, I have to leave Akemi with a friend in the next city over. I don’t – I don’t get to be the dad that she deserves to have. I can’t teach her new things, play with her in the park, and sometimes I can hardly… hardly spend time with her in general because of all that. The fact that you are so ready and willing to sacrifice your time for someone who isn’t even your kid or responsibility is quite telling of how good you are as a person. I am glad that she can have you as some sort of father figure in her life.”

“I can – I can hardly take any credit,” Hongjoong whispers, not daring to raise his tone any higher than that.

“You don’t need to,” Yunho replies in a tone just as quiet. “This dinner… I know very well that there is nothing I can do to repay you for what you are doing for Akemi. My heart will never be satisfied no matter what because you – you are doing something that even her mother refused to do, and that is simply to not leave her alone. I guess that’s my way of saying that I admire you quite a bit, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s heart is in absolute shambles. Yunho is being too open, too raw, too giving in his emotions. It’s like Hongjoong can see straight through his chest and into his heart, pull the organ out and listen to every pang and stitched scar over it with ease. He is merely being genuine with Hongjoong, yet that one thing is more than all of Hongjoong’s exes combined could not do. He wills his mouth to work properly, jaw stuttering and wavering without purpose for too long before he can speak again.

“If y-you ever need someone to look after Akemi while you’re out of town, I would be happy to do so. My apartment – where I live, I mean – it’s not too big, but I would gladly sleep on the couch so she can sleep in the bed, and I live alone so it’s not like there would be anyone else with us and—”

“You’d truly do that?” The shock in Yunho’s voice almost hurts to hear, like he can’t believe anyone would do such a thing for him. In the back of his head, Hongjoong internally questions those friends that Yunho mentioned and how reliable they truly are. It catches him off-guard though. He isn’t making the offer because he wants Yunho to like him or trust him or anything unsavory. He would make the same offer to any parent who needed help; Hongjoong truly values his job but he cherishes each student of his even more than that. Seeing people struggle on their own is never pleasant – a thing he recognizes in others but refuses to recognize in himself – so if he can make Yunho’s day to day life even the tiniest bit easier, then he would jump at the opportunity.

“Of course.”

“Are you truly real?”

Hongjoong needs at least another glass of wine in him before Yunho starts having an existential crisis, but this sort of disbelief seems a bit different, something that stagnates the air between them and lets them hover in each other’s breaths like it’s the only thing that matters.

“I would hope people value you enough to give you the bare minimum of what you deserve, Yunho.” Hongjoong doesn’t realize that it’s the first time he’s used the other man’s name until he folds his lips into a soft grin.

“You forgot the stutter.”

Hongjoong dares to smile back, nose scrunching up and cheeks rounding under the wire frames of his glasses.

“My apologies, Y-Yunho.”

Yunho doesn’t respond this time, but there doesn’t seem to be a need to. The air returns to its pleasant trill, alight and humming with the beads of anticipation, and Hongjoong settles into the cloud with a newfound sense of ease and comfort in front of Yunho. There remains a stark sense of fear in his bones, one that does not care for the thoughts of where this might lead, what feelings will bud in his chest as a result, or how hard Hongjoong will recklessly fall because that’s how it always is.

“I don’t know if — this may be too bold but, uh, would you like to come for dinner again?”

This is a slippery slope and Hongjoong is already in the midst of falling.

…

It’s October now, nearing November in less than two weeks which will mean another bland birthday for Hongjoong to pass through with little interest and lots of enthusiasm from both Wooyoung and San. In the past six (yes, six) weeks since his first dinner with Yunho and Akemi, Hongjoong has been over to visit at least eight times. Once a week was the agreement he and Yunho came to after the second visit, the kind smile splayed over Yunho’s lips too much for Hongjoong to say no to, but the spare two visits came as a result of a spur of the moment decision on weekdays where Akemi begged for more time with Hongjoong and Yunho demanded to treat him to dinner as thanks. It is pleasant. Too pleasant. Hongjoong already knows that he has tumbled into a dangerous territory that consists of feelings of euphoria and happiness, butterflies churning in his stomach every time Yunho’s tinkling laugh graces his ears, and no matter how much he tries to push it out of his mind, he can’t.

Hongjoong likes the man. It would be much easier if he knew that Yunho did not like men at all, but alas he learned of that a while ago, maybe on his sixth visit to the Jeong household. What had they even been talking about again? Oh, right it was about being a disappointment to their families.

“You don’t talk much of your own family, Hongjoong. Is that a… sensitive topic?”

“Oh, uh, no. It’s not that I have a bad relationship with them or anything like that. There is a bit of tension? I guess you could call it that. I stopped going home to visit them because the plane tickets were getting to be too much and every time I walked in the door, I would just get an earful about how I never bring a wife home.”

“Not into marriage?”

“Not into women.”

Yunho had choked midway through a sip of wine, and Hongjoong thought the man was going to keel over on the floor with the way he was coughing, cheeks blazing red in embarrassment. Once he had finally recovered enough to speak again, Hongjoong’s heart plummeted, but only because he knew there was no way for him to back out of the crush that had formed.

“Well, we have disappointed parents in common then. Mine couldn’t believe I had a kid before marriage, then just about had a heart attack when Akemi’s mother walked out. Made things even worse when I brought my first boyfriend home for the holidays when Akemi was three. They were at least glad when the next girlfriend came around, but I can’t seem to make a relationship stick enough to live up to their standards. They at least love to dote on Akemi and look after her when they can, so I guess I can’t complain all too much.”

Hongjoong hadn’t let the conversation go any further than that, swiftly changing the subject because he was terrified of letting it continue and exposing the ugly and gross bits about his own past to Yunho. He isn’t ready for that. It would be too intimate and vulnerable. That’s what he has to tell himself at least.

Now Hongjoong finds himself yet again in Yunho’s house, but this time the situation is far different. First of all, it’s a Sunday night and not a weekday. Secondly, Yunho is not home. Hongjoong did not break-in, as suspicious as it sounds. The previous Tuesday evening found Hongjoong over for dinner and Yunho mentioned that he had to leave in the morning for a business trip so they wouldn’t be able to do their typical Friday dinner.

“Do you need me to watch Akemi?”

Hongjoong hadn’t even hesitated to ask the question.

“I was hoping to ask if that would be too much actually. I… I would really appreciate it. I’m not used to midweek trips, but I don’t want her to miss school because of this.”

“I’d be happy to look after her while you’re gone, Yunho. I can bring her to school with me in the mornings.”

“Would you please? I can – I can pay you for it or something. I wouldn’t want you to do it for free or–”

“I want to do it for free. Please, Yunho, it’s a – it’s what friends would do, right?”

Friends. Yeah, Hongjoong had breached the invisible line and defined their relationship then and there. Before then, they hadn’t spoken of it or said anything definitive about what they are. Hongjoong couldn’t very well say yeah it’s because I have a crush on you actually so don’t worry about it.

But in any case, that led to Yunho dropping Akemi off for school on Wednesday morning with a little travel bag of clothes and belongings so that she could have her things while she stayed at Hongjoong’s. Hongjoong brought her home in the evening right after school, which was quite the fever dream because he hadn’t gone home on time like that in months.

It was a steady process they formed: go to school a bit early for Hongjoong to prepare his things for the day, leave right after school ended, spend time doing fun things a kid would normally do after school, eat dinner, and go to sleep in Hongjoong’s all too large bed while the man slept on the couch.

On Friday after school, Hongjoong dared to take Akemi to the park to go cloud watching, then they went and bought matching pairs of shoes to bring home and reform together. Hongjoong had drawn small butterflies across the side of Akemi’s white sneakers and told himself that he wouldn’t get too attached to the little girl. That would make the end of the school year far too hard to handle because he wouldn’t get to move up with her to second grade.

For Saturday, he took Akemi to an ice skating rink and held her hand tight against his as they slid over the ice together. An elderly couple watching their grandchildren from the side of the rink asked if Hongjoong wanted pictures with his daughter. Akemi begged for him to say yes with such big and bright eyes that he couldn’t even bother correcting the couple. His cheeks still hurt from laughing and smiling so much even though several hours have passed since then. Hongjoong brought Akemi home to her house rather than his afterward since Yunho said he would be coming home in the evening, and they agreed to meet up after so Hongjoong could return the spare house key.

That is why Hongjoong finds himself seated on the leather couch in Yunho’s living room, thumbing through the channels mindlessly to keep himself busy as he waits for Yunho to get back. Akemi has already been put to bed since she was tired after ice skating, and Hongjoong managed to make a pot of mac and cheese without burning the kitchen down, which is good by his standards. It’s well past eight o’clock, and Yunho said he would be home by six so Hongjoong is maybe sorta kinda starting to get extremely worried about the man’s whereabouts. In fact, he’s about to try to call the man to see if everything is okay when the door handle jiggles. Hongjoong jerks to shut the television off, eyes wide with a nagging panic that someone is trying to break in, but the door swings open to reveal Yunho at long last.

Saying he looks exhausted would be a gross understatement. He looks worse than ever, tired and overwhelmed in every way, but as his gaze falls to where Hongjoong sits on the couch, a shaky sigh slips from his lips, almost as though he is relieved to see the other man sitting there. It tugs at his heartstrings, makes his stomach drop a bit too much, and Hongjoong inhales sharply to bury the feeling.

“I already put Akemi to bed,” Hongjoong whispers, scared to speak any louder than that. Yunho offers a nod but nothing else in response as he shuts the door behind him and drops his travel bag to the floor. He doesn’t even smile, which is something Hongjoong has never seen from the man. He seems to always be wearing a smile no matter what, and Hongjoong can’t describe the odd, misplaced pain in his chest that comes with seeing the blank slate that is Yunho’s expression. “How was your trip?” Careful, calculated, wary. He isn’t sure what is overstepping, but this is the best he can do right now.

“It was… it was fine until the end. I’m sorry I’m late. Stopped at the store to get some groceries and uh—” Yunho stops himself there, hand coming up to run through his dark hair. Hongjoong feels compelled to get up. His legs work before his brain does, and all of a sudden, he is on both feet and moving closer to Yunho for some godforsaken reason. He doesn’t even know what he intends to do until his hand reaches up to grasp at Yunho���s shoulder, shaking the man from his thoughts and offering the faintest bit of comfort.

“I’m here.” Yeah, you’re right in front of him, idiot, I think he knows you’re here.

“I ran into Akemi’s mother.”

Oh.

“She was with the – the guy she cheated on me with.”

Oh. Hongjoong didn’t know that was what had happened between the two of them. He didn’t think to ask, and it wasn’t his business too either, but it makes his heart go out even more to the man because damn. How shitty of a person do you have to be to cheat on your partner after having a damn kid with them?

Hongjoong doesn’t know what the right thing to do is. He racks his brain and tries to find some hint as to what the best idea is, but all he can come up with are memories of how Wooyoung would envelop him in a tight hug after a rough night of memories full of exes and pain. So that’s what Hongjoong does. He leans into Yunho’s space, slots himself in that tiny crack in Yunho’s heart, and wedges himself there. Arms reach higher to fold around the back of the man’s neck until Yunho is forced to bend down a bit and accommodate Hongjoong’s much shorter form, but the taller man hugs him right back in an instant. His breath is hot on Hongjoong’s neck as he releases a shaky exhale, burying his nose deep into the shorter’s neck. It’s all he can do right now, yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“She had the audacity to ask about Akemi.” Yunho’s tone is nothing more than a whisper now, like he couldn’t speak louder if he tried, and Hongjoong has a sneaking suspicion that it’s to keep from crying. “Asked if I’d given up on her yet and when I s-said no, she… she said Akemi would be better off if I did give her up.” Yunho tightens his grip on Hongjoong’s waist, arms enveloping him so deeply that Hongjoong can feel his palms squeezing all the way around his sides. If not for what Yunho said, Hongjoong’s mind might drift into unsavory territory. “Am I a bad father, Hongjoong?”

That question hurts so badly to hear. It’s like a knife in his chest that sinks deeper and deeper with each passing second. He doesn’t need time to come up with an answer though; the words are already waiting on the tip of his tongue before Yunho even finished the question.

“No. You’re the best father in the world, Yunho. You do so much for Akemi. You work long hours to provide for her, bring her to school and take her home for education, give her toys and let her do things she enjoys. You take care of her, love her, cherish her the way a father should. You don’t let her want for anything. You give her your absolute best, and that makes you a good father.”

“Yet I can’t give her a mother. I can only give her me.” Hongjoong can’t take the tone of his voice. He pulls back a bit, hands still wrapped tight around Yunho’s neck, and he tugs Yunho until they can look each other in the eye.

“There is no rulebook for parenting, no matter what the internet says or what other parents might say. No commandment says that a child must have two parents to grow up well and have a good life. And it isn’t your fault that Akemi’s mother made those decisions or walked out on both of you. You were the one who stayed, who continues to stay and fight for her still. I wish you could see through my eyes and know that you are doing well.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Hongjoong.” Yunho’s dark brown eyes swim with unspoken emotions and gratitude, along with some other quivering feeling that swirl amongst them, but Hongjoong can’t place what it is or whether he wants to figure it out.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Hongjoong lets a smile tug at his lips. It’s an invitation for Yunho to do the same, and this time he does, gracing Hongjoong’s eyes with the sight of that precious smile. It sends his stomach spiraling as always, and he has to internally fight the blush that threatens to creep up his neck.

“I need a drink. Or thirty.”

“You can put yourself to bed with one,” Hongjoong huffs. The minimal space between their chests is suddenly making itself known, and he vaguely registers how neither of them have pulled completely away or moved back yet. Yunho’s fingers twitch at his hips.

“Can I convince you to stay for one?”

How can Hongjoong say no to that?

His response to the question is to detach himself from Yunho’s body and move back towards the couch, sending a quick look over his shoulder to see if the man will pick up on what he’s insinuating. Yunho blinks at him in confusion for a few moments. Realization only hits when Hongjoong plops down on the cushions, and he jumps into action, rushing to retrieve some glasses and the wine bottle from the fridge. The look of pure relief on Yunho’s features when he comes to join Hongjoong makes the decision to stay more than worth it.

Over the past few weeks, Hongjoong has come to realize that these moments – the ones where they drink and talk over menial things – are the only ones Yunho has to himself. It’s the only time he gets to do something for himself that isn’t work or taking care of Akemi. Hongjoong briefly wonders when the last time the man went out on his own for fun was but ultimately decides that he doesn’t want to depress himself with the thought.

“Did Akemi behave okay while I was gone?” Yunho inquires, glancing at Hongjoong out the corner of his eye as he pours the drinks.

“Like a dream really. I have no complaints.” Yunho’s cheeks bunch up a bit, and he passes Hongjoong a glass that is far too full of wine but Hongjoong drinks it regardless.

“The pictures you sent were nice to see. I was missing her when you sent them so… perfectly timed.”

Pictures? Hongjoong doesn’t recall sending pictures. Oh wait, yes he does. He sent some as soon as they got home from the ice skating rink, some that the old couple took as well as pictures of Akemi at the park and the shoes they painted together. He tried to push that out of his mind because it felt too domestic for his liking, but it also felt wrong to keep those pictures from Yunho.

“Ha, yeah, the couple who took the pictures at the rink thought I was her dad.” Fuck. Shit. Kim Hongjoong, why the hell would you say that? You aren’t even drunk yet. Hongjoong drinks at his wine with more intensity now, nervously trying to drown his panic in the red liquor in the hopes that it will help somehow. Thank goodness Yunho just smiles wider with nothing but a joyful mirth to his gaze.

“You would be a fantastic father.”

“There’s a difference between being a good teacher and a good parent,” Hongjoong mumbles into his glass.

“I know.” Yunho’s gentle gaze is turning him to jello, or maybe even better, a melted pile of ice cream on the floor. Hongjoong is internally begging for him to change the subject and move onto something else so that Yunho won’t keep staring at him in such a way. He has no such luck. “Do you wanna be a dad one day?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel like being a teacher is more than enough but it would be nice to get to do things like go to the park or paint or something like that with a kid of my own. I barely have my life together as it is, I can’t possibly imagine trying to raise a kid on my own. T-That’s kinda why I admire your efforts so much. But I gotta… gotta find someone who will put up with me long term.”

“You don’t have anyone?” Now that question shocks Hongjoong. He has always pinned himself as the type who is very obviously single and alone, but Yunho sounds like he truly believed the opposite.

“You thought I did?”

“I just – well, I – someone like you, I just figured that you’d be taken.”

Someone like you.

Taken.

Oh dear, Hongjoong needs more wine. He lunges forward without thinking after downing the rest of his glass, refilling it to the same height that it was when Yunho initially filled it. There is no negative connotation to Yunho’s statement, and that is what scares Hongjoong more than anything else. His brain’s first reaction is to think of all the ways he could ruin this here and now, how best to run away, how to set his relationship with Yunho aflame before there is even an opportunity for it to go anywhere, and he hates himself for that but it is to protect himself from the pain.

He knows how this ends, and he would rather destroy it himself than wait for Yunho to leave him.

“Nope, not taken! Can’t keep a relationship to save my life actually.” Hongjoong silently begs that Yunho will understand that he means that he is the problem, not all the exes in his past relationships.

“Any terrible exes I need to know about?”

Why would you need to know about them? Hongjoong wants to ask but he bites his tongue and tries not to think too hard about it.

“Uh, just that all my relationships have ended in flames. Quite literally for the last one.”

“Oh? That sounds like an interesting story.” Yunho hums a little to himself, eyes darting from the ceiling back down to Hongjoong’s face.

“It’s really not… just one bad relationship after the other honestly.”

“I can relate to that quite well, I think.” A deep sigh falls from the man’s lips. He swirls his drink around and watches the liquid toss and turn in the glass for a few moments before Hongjoong finds it in him to say something.

“You’ll find someone who will do right by you.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. Maybe I’m just moaning because it’s been over a year since my last relationship. Haven’t really found the time to go out and meet new people this year.”

“Better than me,” Hongjoong mumbles against the rim of his glass before taking a long drag of the liquor. Curse him for being such a damn lightweight because he can already feel a bit of a tipsy haze slipping over his mind and clouding his thoughts. “It’s been two years since I had a stable relationship.”

“How many unstable ones did you have in-between?”

“Why do you ask?” Hongjoong can’t keep the question off his lips.

“Curiosity?”

Hongjoong waits until he has swallowed another half of his glass before mustering up the courage to answer Yunho’s question, but that proves to be a mistake because the quick intake of alcohol makes his head swim.

“Three or four undefined sexual relationships maybe? All left when I got too attached or because they found me boring outside the bedroom.” He could have done with better phrasing than that. The way he said it makes him sound like an absolute sex demon, which Hongjoong doesn’t think is appropriate to talk about or mention to Yunho, but again his reason is quickly leaving him thanks to the wine.

“They have bad taste then. You are by far one of the most interesting people I’ve met, and I mean that in the best way possible.” Yunho gnaws on his lower lip after speaking, and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a strained smile. Hongjoong mimics the smile with equal awkwardness. The action draws a throaty laugh from Yunho, a sound that reverberates in his chest and sends Hongjoong’s heart into a mad state of gay panic. “Hongjoong, are you already tipsy?”

“Hm?” In Hongjoong’s defense, the most he’s had while at Yunho’s place is one glass of wine and nothing more because he usually is careful enough to watch his alcohol intake. Maybe it’s the mixture of his poor panic-riddled heart and the drinks? Is that possible? He doesn’t even know.

“God, you’re so — you’re already tipsy, aren’t you?”

“I’m not tipsy!” He refutes in haste, but there is already a heat rising up his neck and cheeks that betrays his state of slight inebriation.

“Oh, you’re not?” Yunho tilts his head to the side, exposing the long column of his neck to the yellow light above them. Hongjoong spends too much time eyeing that exposed bit of skin. “You seem a little tipsy to me. You look a little flushed.”

“That’s not tipsiness.” Hongjoong presses his lips to the side of his glass as though it will hide his blushing cheeks. Yunho’s next laugh is an endearing one, and Hongjoong drinks it up like it’s his wine.

“Low alcohol tolerance?”

“I’m short. And petite. And small. Not a lot of space to put alcohol in my body. Besides you’re so—” Hongjoong gestures wildly with his free hand to Yunho’s form before him “—big and broad and wide so you can fit a lot more liquor in there.”

“I do have rather high alcohol tolerance, I’ll give you that. Because I’m… big?” Yunho lets his words trail off as a smirk overtakes his lips. Hongjoong’s cheeks could not get any redder than they are in this moment. The other man must find this absolutely hilarious because he releases a laugh that is far too loud and will most definitely wake Akemi up, and he realizes this a moment too late, hand flying up to cover his mouth. Hongjoong breaks into a fit of laughter with him, falling into Yunho’s space without thinking. He’s caught by gentle hands, and one of those hands moves to catch his teetering wine glass before it can tip over onto the couch. They laugh like that, together, full of each other, pushing themselves closer and closer into one another until every sense is so full of Yunho that Hongjoong thinks he could get drunk off that.

“Daddy?”

Hongjoong moves back so quickly that his vision blurs into a hazy mess. Yunho is still chuckling under his breath even as he turns to look over the back of the couch.

“Mimi baby, why are you up? Hm? Was Daddy being too loud?” Yunho places his glass on the coffee table and pushes himself to his feet, hastily rounding the couch so that he can meet Akemi by the stairs. Hongjoong feels useless as can be, but he just continues to sit where he is and watch the scene unfold before him. Yunho squats down to be eye level with the little girl and brings his hands up to comb through a few stray tangles in her hair.

“I heard you laughing with Mr. Hong!”

Yunho’s chin dips to his chest as he laughs again. He pinches the tip of Akemi’s nose between his index finger and thumb, reveling in the way the girl squeals in delight.

“Yes, well, Mr. Hong and I were laughing about a joke Daddy made.” Yunho glances over to where Hongjoong is sitting. The mirth in his eyes makes Hongjoong take another long sip of wine, but it’s not enough to drown the butterflies flying through his gut. “You should get back to bed, angel. We can’t have you going to bed too late or you’ll be sleepy in the morning!”

“Can you tuck me in, Daddy? Pretty please?”

“Of course, Mimi, I missed tucking you in at night the mostest of all while I was gone.”

“Mr. Hong tucked me in every night! And he would show me the pretty butterflies he painted and would read me a poem to help me fall asleep.” Ah, Akemi, why would you mention that? Hongjoong hides his face behind the safety of his glass and tries not to see whether Yunho turns to look at him or not.

“Hm, yes, Mr. Hong is quite the angel, isn’t he? We gotta go to bed though! Come on, up, up! If you don’t hurry your little booty up the stairs, Daddy is gonna catch the little butterfly and gobble her right up!” Yunho leans in to pinch her sides, but Akemi squeals and darts out of the way, her short and stubby legs flying up the stairs and out of his reach. Yunho moves with her, and Hongjoong can’t keep himself from laughing as he watches the scene unfold before him because it’s just so damn cute and domestic. He couldn’t be more whipped if he tried.

Against better judgment, Hongjoong decides to pour himself one more glass of wine and tells himself that it’s because the cheap store-bought wine is good enough to indulge in more (but he knows it’s to chase the feelings away instead).

“Okay, one little butterfly safely put back to bed without any issue.” Hongjoong doesn’t even hear the man come down the stairs, too busy reclining against the couch cushion and mulling over his drink like the lonely gay he is, and Yunho’s sudden presence behind him startles him more than he’d like to admit. The man stands right behind the back of the couch leaned over it so he can speak into Hongjoong’s ear with too much teasing joy to his tone. Hongjoong just about melts on the spot because holy hell the feeling of Yunho’s warm breath cascading over his ear and down the side of his neck makes him feel even hotter under the collar. He tries not to think about how if he turned his head just a little bit to the left, their lips would touch, and he truly tries not to cave in to that desire and do so. Yunho lingers there, pressed into Hongjoong’s space without moving.

“So.” He isn’t sure what possesses him to say that or where the thought is going. Yunho dips his head as he laughs, and Hongjoong swears up and down that the man accidentally brushes his lips over the bare skin of Hongjoong’s neck. He pulls away too quickly for Hongjoong to process it any further though, sliding back around to the front of the couch to sit down beside him again.

“So, two glasses is all it takes to get you drunk?”

“Tipsy.”

“You admitting it?”

“Fucking smooth, Jeong Yunho.” Oops, did Hongjoong say that out loud? He could have swore he said it to himself only, but the way Yunho is smiling at him tells him otherwise.

“I can be much smoother than that.” Now, Yunho isn’t drunk in the slightest. He doesn’t seem tipsy or affected by the alcohol at all, and he claimed to have a high alcohol tolerance so Hongjoong knows that he isn’t saying things in a drunken haze. So why does it sound like he is flirting?

That’s just how he normally is. It doesn’t mean anything. He talks like that all the time.

“Doesn’t sound convincing, but okay.” Hongjoong gives a small shrug of his shoulders before mentally punching himself in the nose. Tipsy Hongjoong is a menace who should not be allowed to speak for more than two seconds.

“Oh? Should I be convincing then?” Yunho twists to look at him. Hongjoong’s heart stops dead in his chest. One large hand stretches out to take his wine glass from his hands and sets it on the coffee table beside the bottle. He is leaning back into Hongjoong’s space again, this time pushing so close that Yunho’s hip brushes against his knee. Hongjoong could fall forward and —

“I wasn’t done with that,” he protests instead, watching the glass rather than Yunho.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Yunho murmurs back. His tone is much gentler and less teasing this time, and Hongjoong might even go so far as to say that Yunho seems to genuinely care. “I shouldn’t have let you have any if I had remembered that you would have to drive back. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah?”

“Tired. Really tired. Like this couch is way too comfortable and I will fall asleep if you don’t stop me,” Hongjoong babbles. He’s all but forgotten about the flush on his cheeks and how foolish he must look right now. For some reason, the only thing his brain can manage is the thought of placing his hand on Yunho’s knee and leaning against his shoulder. The man shifts before he can do that though, pulling a leg up to mimic Hongjoong’s position. Oh. Now Hongjoong really could fall against his chest and just take a nice nap there—

“Maybe you should stay the night.”

“Yunho.” Why is he saying the man’s name?

“Hongjoong,” Yunho responds with a slight smile. Gonna kiss that stupid pretty mouth one day, Hongjoong thinks to himself, eyes narrowed on the man’s lips. “Can you please stay the night? I don’t think you should be driving in this state.”

Hongjoong tells himself that he needs to say no because staying in dangerous and will only make his feelings worse. Instead, he drops a hand to Yunho’s knee and smiles so wide that it hurts his cheeks.

“Okay.”

Yunho exhales a sigh of relief. His hand falls atop Hongjoong’s, the weight so heavy and warm over him that it makes him see stars. Hongjoong twists so that he can slip his fingers over Yunho’s.

“I-I can let you sleep in my bed. I know you’ve been sleeping on a couch for the past week. I’ll take the couch instead.”

“No, no! Noooo, Yunho, you don’t have to!” Hongjoong protests quickly. He flops back on the couch, forgoing the fact that he still has a grip on Yunho’s hand, and the man moves with him, his other hand flying up to steady himself on the pillow that Hongjoong lands on.

Their noses bump against each other.

Yunho doesn’t move away.

“Hi friend,” Hongjoong whispers to quell his rapidly beating heart. Friend. Friend? Hongjoong, are you serious? The man hovering above him can only laugh.

“Hi Hongjoong.” Is Yunho looking at his lips or is Hongjoong seeing things? The man seems to shake himself out of whatever is plaguing him and pulls back to a sitting position. “Are you okay to walk or should I carry you up the stairs?”

“I’m fine!” Hongjoong insists, slipping off the couch cushions and standing upright. He moves far too soon because blood rushes to his head and makes his vision go spotty in the edges. His legs turn to jello in the blink of an eye, but there goes Yunho again, hands finding Hongjoong’s hips and keeping him upright without hesitation. Hongjoong has to keep telling himself that this is what friends would do, Yunho is just doing this as a friend, he is only helping Hongjoong out because they’re friends.

“Next time, I’m watching how much you drink like a hawk.”

“Next time, I’m making sure you get drunk,” Hongjoong grumbles as Yunho loops an arm around his waist and slings one of the shorter man’s arms over his broad shoulders. The heat of his body is too comfortable. Hongjoong debates falling asleep standing up like this but Yunho squeezes his side a little tighter to keep him awake.

“Good luck with that. I’m a tough nut to crack.” A laugh slips from Hongjoong’s lips, and he turns to push up closer to Yunho, caressing his ear with the barest touch of his mouth, and he can feel the way the man quivers under the touch.

“Nut,” he whispers, stifling a giggle.

“How immature, Mr. Kim.” Yunho clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth but still manages to smile as he walks Hongjoong to the edge of the stairs. Hongjoong has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from saying something much worse. He would preferably like to kiss Yunho on the same spot of his ear, work a path of wet kisses down to his neck and kiss him there as well, but he convinces himself not to.

Yunho drags his slow ass up the stairs with quite a bit of difficulty since Hongjoong’s drunkenness is apparently bad enough for him to struggle with even moving his legs properly. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind, nor does he complain about it either because he lugs Hongjoong until they reach the top of the stairs, pausing to pass him a smile that makes Hongjoong giggle like a schoolgirl in an embarrassing way.

“Mr. Jeong, you’re so cute,” he whispers as he lets his cheek rest against the man’s arm.

“From where I’m standing, you’re much cuter, Hongjoong.”

“Oh?” The sigh slips out without him intending for it to, but he doesn’t bother to correct himself.

“Do you need me to repeat myself?”

“Will you?” Whatever possesses Hongjoong to say that is unbeknownst to him because he had no clue where they come from or why they fall from his lips.

Yunho pauses, looks to the ceiling, then offers a small shrug of his shoulders. His voice is still hushed, no doubt because Akemi is sleeping behind one of these doors.

“Only if you want me to.”

What? Hongjoong catches that much through his dizzied state. Yunho hoists him forward, pushing his way in through one of the doorframes at the top of the stairs. It’s a bedroom, Hongjoong can see that much out the corner of his eye and in the fuzziness of his vision. Yunho pulls him forward a bit more, hands still secured around his waist, and Hongjoong feels like he’s positively floating under the touch.

“Please?” He typically isn’t one to beg or be desperate, but just this once, Hongjoong finds himself wanting to hear the words again.

“I find you quite cute, Hongjoong.” Has Yunho always been this close to him? Hongjoong’s head is no longer pressed to his arm, and Yunho has turned his chin so that he can properly look Hongjoong in the eye.

“I like that.”

“What do you like?” Yunho unravels his arm from Hongjoong’s shoulders, shifting the man so that he can set him down on the edge of the bed. Hongjoong lets him, eyes wide and glassy as he looks up at Yunho.

You.

“You calling me cute,” Hongjoong slurs. A lopsided smile takes over his lips. “Friends can call each other cute, right?”

“…Sure.” If Yunho hesitates in his answer, Hongjoong doesn’t have enough brainpower to process it.

“Cute,” Hongjoong coos moreso to himself than to the man beside him. “You’re so cute, Yunho.”

He can’t help himself any longer. He grabs for Yunho and plants a hand on either side of his face, pulling his head towards his own. He tugs with a bit too much force though because Yunho’s forehead smacks hard on his and knocks Hongjoong back. Yunho is forced to throw his hands down on either side of Hongjoong’s body to stabilize himself before fully crushing the shorter man.

“Ah, I’m such a mess. I’m a tipsy mess. A mess, Yunho, an absolute mess,” he mutters, eyes searching the other man’s face for a sign of discomfort. He finds nothing except a slight red tinge to Yunho’s face and drags his thumbs over the balls of the man’s cheeks.

“An adorable one nonetheless.”

Hongjoong finds himself stretching his neck up a bit. Yunho’s tongue darts out to drag over his lower him, eyes flitting from Hongjoong’s down to his lips and back up again. The visual clue is there, Hongjoong sees it, it’s impossible to miss even while drunk. Yunho’s next words only confirm his suspicions.

“I-I… Hongjoong, I – I want to kiss you b-but—”

“Do it,” Hongjoong blurts before he can stop himself.

“You’re drunk, Hongjoong. I won’t – I won’t take advantage of you like this, not while you’re drunk.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“Maybe when you’re sober,” Yunho whispers. He hoists Hongjoong further up on the bed with such little effort that Hongjoong’s heart soars in his chest. “Do you want to change clothes?”

“Don’t have anything to wear,” Hongjoong grumbles back. The sudden change in topic hurts him more than he’d like to admit, and the thought of having Yunho so close yet so far away makes him want to sob.

“I have clothes.” The words are stilted and cut short like Yunho wants to say more but can’t bring himself to do it. Hongjoong refuses to move or react. Yunho takes it as an unspoken agreement and slips off the bed to stand up straight. “Let’s get you changed, Hongjoong. I’ll set out some clothes for you.”

When Yunho’s warmth disappears from his side, Hongjoong stretches a hand out after his back but ultimately lets it fall to his side uselessly. He can only watch on with tired eyes, growing more tired by the second as Yunho pulls a shirt and pair of pants out of his dresser. Hongjoong forces himself to sit up and takes the clothes from Yunho’s hands.

“Do you need help changing? I can—”

“I got it, I got it,” Hongjoong interrupts with a small wave of his hand.

“I’ll step into the bathroom then.” Yunho grins a bit before disappearing into said room so Hongjoong can stumble around and change.

“Yunho!” Hongjoong calls out as he’s switching out shirts. “Are you still there?”

“Do you need help?”

“Hm, no, no. Just checking to see if you’re still there!”

The sound of a huffed out laugh echoes through the door.

“I’m still here, Hongjoong.”

“I’m done changing!” It’s a half-truth, but it’s technically a full truth for Hongjoong because he only sleeps in a shirt regardless. He doesn’t bother putting the pants Yunho gave him on mostly thanks to the ridiculous length of them but also because Hongjoong never sleeps with pants on so it seems pointless. He throws himself back on the bed, rolling over to one side of the overly sized mattress as Yunho comes back into the bedroom.

“I – oh, um, Hongjoong, you… pants?” Yunho motions to his all too bare legs.

“Don’t sleep in them,” he mutters back, words still slurring a bit.

“Fair enough, uh, I suppose.” Maybe Yunho’s gaze is lingering a bit too long on the exposed skin of Hongjoong’s thighs, just at the midway point where Yunho’s shirt stops and skin begins. Yunho jerks his head to look in the opposite direction. “If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be – be downstairs, yeah.”

Yunho doesn’t leave right away. He lingers by the bed, long fingers tracing over the edge of the mattress and eyes staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“Can you… would you stay, Yunho?” Hongjoong dares to murmur. He’s too afraid to look Yunho in the eye, too scared of what he might see there (read – rejection). Yunho’s jaw stutters.

“I want to b-but that would be inappropriate of me,” Yunho whispers back. Hongjoong isn’t sure what he wants. He extended an invitation not once but twice, all that’s left is for Yunho to quit stalling and talking himself out of it. He just needs to commit, which is a cruel irony of Hongjoong to say because he can’t commit to even having feelings for the man as it is. Still, Hongjoong can’t be the only one pulling if Yunho isn’t going to move with him.

“Goodnight then, Yunho,” he says through a slightly bitten back tone that conceals his true feelings.

“G-Goodnight, Hongjoong. I hope you – please sleep well.”

Hongjoong is passed out under the sheets before Yunho can even get out the door. The only dreams that plague him that night are the thoughts of what might have happened if they spent the night crammed into each other’s space with little regard for what lines they were crossing or what boundaries they skipping over in Hongjoong’s drunken rush. Every dream he has ends in a nightmare.

…

In the week that has passed since Hongjoong’s drunken night at Yunho’s house, Wooyoung has warned him about getting too attached to the man at least three times. Hongjoong wishes he could say that he doesn’t remember a thing from that night but he remembers it all. The lingering touches, the laughs exchanged in breaths that mingled together, the near kisses, and most of all the way Yunho was so close within Hongjoong’s reach yet so far away at the same time.

“Maybe you aren’t ready for this.”

“For what, Wooyoung?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. I’ve seen enough people hurt you, and I do my best to help you recover every time, but I’m always scared that there’s gonna be one worse than the rest. One I can’t fix.”

Yunho is making conversation with Akemi on his right. Hongjoong can barely touch his food thanks to the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, but he forces some food down just so that Yunho isn’t offended. He can’t quit thinking about that damn conversation with Wooyoung, the latest one that had the most lasting impact on his damn overthinking brain.

“Do you want this, Hongjoong?”

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know that? You said that he literally wanted to kiss you.”

“I was drunk. Probably only said that because of the way I was acting.”

Maybe Hongjoong can move back home and find a job there. Or he can find a different school so he doesn’t have to see Yunho and his stupidly perfect face anymore.

“Are you tired, Mimi?” Hongjoong pulls his focus back to the scene before him, trying to shake the memories of that conversation out of his mind. Akemi nods her little head in agreement, and Yunho reaches out to comb his hand through her hair. “Okay, butterfly, run upstairs and brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

“Can Mr. Hong come tuck me in please?”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen a bit at that. Yunho twists to look at him, lips parted a bit in disbelief, then he returns to smiling at Akemi.

“We’ll see, angel. Head upstairs first.”

Akemi gets up from her seat with a loud giggle and darts around the table within seconds, gone from sight before Hongjoong can even blink. Yunho stands as well, albeit much slower, gathering his plate and Akemi’s from the table to head into the kitchen. Hongjoong follows suit with his own plate. His gaze finds the back of Yunho’s head.

“Do you want me to tuck her in?” He asks once Yunho sets his plates in the sink.

“Would you please? She will probably refuse to sleep unless you do it.”

Hongjoong replies with a smile and a nod, placing his dish on the counter and pulling away to follow Akemi up the stairs. Maybe it’s because he was already too deep in his thoughts but the act of tucking Yunho’s daughter in and putting her to bed before they indulge in some wine feels grossly domestic. It’s funny how much he hates the thought of it because this is what he’s always wanted: a family to come home to, spend time with, and be loved by. If it’s what he’s always wanted, why is his mind telling him to run away?

Akemi is crawling into bed when Hongjoong arrives in the doorway.

“Mr. Hong, Mr. Hong! Do you have a new poem for me?”

“Where did we leave off last time, little butterfly?” Hongjoong hums, stepping further into the room as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“You read one about stars and wasting time!” Akemi tugs her sheets up to her chin, bright eyes blinking at Hongjoong with endless wonder, and he grins at her enthusiasm.

“Hm, I have one about love but it’s a bit sappy.” Hongjoong squats beside her mattress and rests his elbows on the edge. Akemi twists to rest on her side.

“I wanna hear it!”

“Okay, okay, close your eyes and listen closely. This is a word we use to plug holes with. It's the right size for those warm blanks in speech, for those red heart-shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing like real hearts. Add lace and you can sell it. We insert it also in the one empty space on the printed form that comes with no instructions. There are whole magazines with not much in them but the word love, you can rub it all over your body and you can cook with it too. How do we know it isn't what goes on at the cool debaucheries of slugs under damp pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-seedlings nosing their tough snouts up among the lettuces, they shout it. Love, love, sing the soldiers, raising their glittering knives in salute. Then there's the two of us. This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear. This word is not enough but it will have to do. It's a single vowel in this metallic silence, a mouth that says ‘oh’ again and again in wonder and pain, a breath, a finger grip on a cliffside. You can hold on or let go.” Hongjoong concludes with a small sigh, thumb dragging over his screen and blinking down at the typed words with a painful burn in his chest. Akemi’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he thinks the girl is asleep so he slowly gets back up and stands straight again. Before he moves to leave the room, he bends over Akemi’s bed and presses a soft kiss to the girl’s head.

“Is that how you and Daddy feel about each other?” Hongjoong’s heart almost stops dead in his chest. He chokes on air. What does Akemi know about love? About their feelings? About Hongjoong’s feelings?

“Go to sleep, little butterfly,” he murmurs before retreating for good, this time with heart heavier than lead.

Love. Hongjoong doesn’t know if he’s ever been in love. He hasn’t stopped to wonder if he has or not, hasn’t bothered putting certain labels on his past relationships out of fear of greater heartbreak.

He runs into something on his way out of the room, arms swinging up to lessen the blow only for his palms to land on Yunho’s chest as he hits the man. A small curse slips past his lips but it’s thankfully spoken too quietly for Akemi to stir in her bed. Yunho’s expression is unreadable in the darkness. Hongjoong can’t move his hands away from Yunho, and the man doesn’t ask him to, merely placing his hands over Hongjoong’s. He pulls the shorter man out of the room like that, and once they’re fully in the hallway, Yunho reaches around his shoulder to shut the door to Akemi’s room.

“This word is not enough but it will have to do,” Yunho murmurs. “What poem is that from?”

“Variations On The Word Love by Margaret Atwood.”

Yunho sinks his teeth into his lower lip. So close. Hongjoong tries to pull his hands away but Yunho keeps him in place, slowly guiding him to the stairs with little effort.

“We’ll fall down the stairs, Yunho.”

This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness.

“Right.”

“Let’s go downstairs,” Yunho mutters, finally releasing Hongjoong so that he can walk on his own. So far away.

It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear.

Hongjoong’s legs are wobbling on his way down the stairs. This intimacy is foreign. It feels too much like a dance, one that only Yunho and Hongjoong are aware of and only they know the steps to, and Hongjoong can’t recall a time when he ever danced around a person for so long. People take what they want from him and leave him. That’s what Hongjoong is used to, and that’s what he knows how to handle after all this time.

Why is Yunho different?

It's a single vowel in this metallic silence, a mouth that says ‘oh’ again and again in wonder and pain, a breath, a finger grip on a cliffside.

They find their way to the couch where Yunho already has wine out on the coffee table, their unfinished glasses from dinner there as well. Hongjoong sinks to the cushions with a slight exhale of breath. He reaches for the wine immediately like the liquor is an extension of his body.

You can hold on or let go.

Hongjoong is afraid more than anything else that these feelings will ruin him forever, that Yunho will ruin everyone for him because he just seems too perfect. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, slotted in each other’s space even as Yunho sinks down beside Hongjoong and their thighs brush together. Hongjoong wants to let go, to see this fail if only to prove that he was right about it all along. His heart is holding onto Yunho like he’s a lifeline.

“I wouldn’t expect you to read love poems, Hongjoong,” Yunho hums before taking a long drag of wine. “Are you secretly a hopeless romantic?”

“I’m not even sure I can make myself believe in love at this point.”

“How badly have you been hurt in the past? To think like that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I used to think like that myself. Right after Akemi’s mother… after I found out. There was a short period of time where I knew she was cheating but couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I wanted to try to make things work for Akemi b-because I wanted so badly to give her two parents. I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure that she could have both of us growing up and that she wouldn’t be left with just one of us. Guess I failed her the minute her mother decided to walk out.”

“Yunho,” Hongjoong starts, voice hitching a bit in his throat.

“I’m not — I don’t say this to have your pity. I don’t want that. I guess – part of me wants to open up to you because I care about you but also because I can’t help myself around you. Maybe I’m just a fool though.”

“No, Yunho, I—” Hongjoong can’t finish the thought. Why can’t he give? Yunho sits there and pours his soul into every word, bares the most painful parts of himself without hesitation, and Hongjoong can do nothing but whine about how shitty his life is. “I’m the fool,” he whispers after some time has passed. “I’m scared. My last – my last relationship was s-so perfect up until the end, and I’m so afraid that it will happen again. I’m terrified of letting myself g-go enough to let someone in that way.”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Hongjoong. No one is asking you to stop being afraid. Even I’m still fearful of what could happen in the future or if I try again.”

“I guess it’s because I’m used to the pain of heartbreak.”

“That doesn’t mean it will always be that way though,” Yunho whispers, and Hongjoong dares to make eye contact with the man. The stare doesn’t hold for long though because Yunho moves to pour himself another glass of wine, and Hongjoong watches the liquid pour into the glass in silence. Yunho doesn’t speak again until he’s filled his glass and taken a lingering sip from it. “You deserve a chance at happiness too, Hongjoong.”

His response comes in the form of a small choking sound as he drinks too quickly from his wine and inhales the liquor on accident. He coughs his way through it, waving Yunho off when the man leans across the couch in a fit of worry, but Hongjoong really can’t handle him being any closer than he is.

“I-I am happy,” he finally manages to say after clearing his throat.

“Alone?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

Why seek something that could hurt you when you’re perfectly fine on your own?

Hongjoong finds himself asking the question again, though this time he can come up with many more answers than he is willing to admit.

“Every time I look at you, it’s like seeing a reflection of myself. I can see how lonely you are behind that mask you wear.”

“I have friends.” He sounds defensive, and it’s because he most definitely is getting defensive.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Hongjoong.”

“I don’t need to risk being hurt again,” he counters, pushing a bit of vehemence into his tone.

“By that logic, I don’t either but here I am, trying to rectify all the emotions in my body and make sense of them somehow. No matter how many times I’ve been hurt or how badly I’ve been hurt, I still want to keep trying because I truly believe I can get it right one day.”

Why does Yunho have to be right? Why can’t he just be an asshole and break Hongjoong’s heart that way? It hurts knowing that Hongjoong is gonna fuck this up somehow, these lingering feelings have tumbled out of control and he can’t pull them back into his stone-cold heart any longer. A second later, his vision begins to blur. He can’t pinpoint why or what’s going on until Yunho reaches a hand out and places it atop Hongjoong’s knee. Fingers splay over his clothed skin, swamping Hongjoong in the warmth of the touch, and he can’t help but notice how small and fragile he looks under Yunho’s grasp. Something wet falls atop one of Yunho’s fingers, and it’s not red so it can’t possibly be wine but Hongjoong can’t figure out what — oh. He’s crying.

“Hongjoong…”

He must look absolutely pathetic sitting here on Yunho’s couch, fat tears rolling over the balls of his cheeks with an unfinished glass of wine in his hands, but Yunho doesn’t chastise him or ridicule him in the slightest. He merely moves his free hand to take the glass from Hongjoong’s hands, placing it on the coffee table beside his own that somehow ended up over there without a word, and when he reaches back towards the shorter man, he catches Hongjoong’s face in his hands. Yunho swipes his thumbs over the balls of his cheeks with such gentle and caring fingers that Hongjoong can only cry harder because fuck, he’s touch-starved and even a hand on the knee sent him spiraling. Yunho keeps catching each tear that falls without complaint, hands never leaving Hongjoong for a second, and it causes a painful burn to blossom in his chest, one that grows and festers like a wound until it’s all he can feel.

This kind of weakness isn’t one he’s used to. Hongjoong doesn’t let the cracks show in front of other people like Wooyoung or San so they won’t worry about him not being okay, but Yunho just barged in and knocked those brick walls around Hongjoong down as though they were nothing. How does he do it? This damn blundering giant who has stars in his eyes and a laugh so bright that Hongjoong could gladly listen to it for the rest of his life is gonna ruin him forever. He won’t be able to look at anyone if they aren’t Yunho. Hongjoong wants to trust that Yunho will be better to him than all his exes were, but he can’t shake the fear gnawing away at his bones or the nagging sense of inadequacy when he looks in the mirror. Isn’t it too much? Can’t he just have this one nice thing?

Hongjoong wants so badly to throw all caution to the wind and close the distance between him and Yunho right now, kiss the man right on the mouth and tell him how he feels, but all he can do is mumble broken apologies in a choked tone.

“Don’t apologize, Hongjoong,” Yunho whispers back. The way he’s cradling Hongjoong’s face feels like too much, too intimate and too precious, something he shouldn’t allow himself to have, so he reaches up to push Yunho’s hands away from him like the touch is offensive. Hongjoong is good at only one thing and that’s ruining the good he has in his life.

“I – I should g-go. I need t-to go.” He barely remembers to place the spare key on the table beside his glass of wine as he stands up. Yunho moves with him. Hongjoong just wishes that he would stop being so damn considerate and kind and perfect. Stop being everything Hongjoong wants and needs in his life because it hurts too much. He doesn’t even get around the coffee table before Yunho snatches him by the wrist.

“I don’t want you driving in this state, Hongjoong. It’s not safe,” Yunho pleas. Anger bubbles up in Hongjoong’s gut. He’s been in this position before. He has stood in the center of a room with tears running down his cheeks and begged for someone to make him stay. No one ever did. His exes never stopped him or held onto him or asked him not to go.

“Why does it matter?” He spits back in response, and Yunho’s face blurs before him because of the tears. That question seems to catch Yunho off-guard. Hongjoong takes it as an opportunity to escape, slipping his wrist free of Yunho’s grasp and making for the door while he can, but Yunho snaps back to reality too quickly. He’s there to stop Hongjoong at the door; his hand slams against the wood just as Hongjoong turns the handle and cracks it open, pushing it back shut in an instant.

“It matters because I… it’s not safe. I can’t let you go like this in good conscience.”

“So this is about your conscience then?” Reason has left Hongjoong’s body, and at this point, his self-destructive nature has taken the wheel and is ready to drive him off a cliff. Hongjoong just might let it.

“No, I – Hongjoong, please. I c-care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to go out there and be alone.” Yunho’s arm stays planted against the door as though he’s afraid that Hongjoong might try to leave again.

“Can’t you be a fucking terrible person for one second?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Hongjoong, but I’m here for you. Please, just stay. I need you to stay, and maybe it’s selfish, yeah. Maybe I’m thinking too much about my own feelings and reading into things too much. But I know that you don’t want to be alone right now.”

“What I want is for you to be like every other person in my life and leave me when I need you most because that hurts less in the long run!”

Yunho’s fingers curl against the door until they’re tucked into a tight fist. His jaw stutters as he tries to come up with some sort of reply, one that will make Hongjoong feel better no doubt, but all Hongjoong wants is to run away. He’s nearing the edge of this cliff and it won’t be long until he tumbles over it, entering a freefall that will result in a dragging sense of pain only to land on another cliff. It’s a sick cycle Hongjoong lives in, but it’s what he’s used to and it’s what he knows how to handle.

“I don’t know what you’ve had to suffer in the past, Hongjoong, or what your past relationships have put you through. I’m not asking for you to tell me either. I just want to give you what you deserve now. You said you had friends so what does that make us? Am I not your friend too? Can you not rely on me too? I want to be close to you, but if that isn’t what you want from me, just say the word and I’ll back off.” The words roll off Hongjoong’s shoulders like they’re nothing, only one having a lasting effect on him in the heat of the moment.

Friend.

The word is laughable on his tongue, and he releases a cruel and sadistic sound that hurts his throat.

Of course. Hongjoong should have known. He told himself this would happen, he warned himself, he looked himself in the eye and said that this was the only outcome out of all of this. So why does it hurt so fucking much? Why did he give himself baseless hopes and wishes to cling to? How could he be so stupid? He drew the line himself. He defined their relationship as a friendship and nothing more. That was what he said would come out of this, and he told Yunho that that’s what they would be. He did this to himself.

If Yunho notices the way tears are flowing harder than before, he doesn’t comment, and this time he doesn’t move to wipe them away either. Hongjoong lifts a shaky and angry hand to furiously brush them off his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t want you to be my friend.” He tries so hard to push rage into the words, some sort of verbal poison that will put Yunho off forever so Hongjoong can just get over himself, but it only comes out broken and weak, like Hongjoong has zero confidence in what he’s saying because he truly doesn’t.

“Then what do you want me to be?”

Why can’t Yunho get it through his thick skull? Why doesn’t he understand what Hongjoong is trying to say?

He pushes as much strength as he can muster into his arms, hands shoving Yunho out of his personal space. Even though Hongjoong doesn’t hit him hard, Yunho’s body moves as though he does, and the man stumbles back on shaky feet. It’s enough to give him the getaway he wants so badly, but Hongjoong just has to drive the knife in Yunho’s chest a little bit deeper before leaving for good.

“I want you to be nothing to me.”

…

Hongjoong has decided that November 7th is the worst day of the year for no reason other than that it is his birthday. He has never enjoyed his birthday; it’s always an overdone celebration that makes him feel worse about getting older, and turning twenty-seven is no different. There is a lot of self-loathing tied to his birthdays every year, but that still never stops Wooyoung or San from trying to do the absolute most for him regardless. Hongjoong woke up to a bouquet of flowers and two small wrapped presents on his counter and Wooyoung on his couch. The gifts were from Seonghwa and Yeosang apparently, small things they sent since they couldn’t be there to celebrate with Hongjoong in person, and Hongjoong is grateful for them even thinking of him today. Wooyoung, on the other hand, is on thin ice.

This year, Wooyoung decided that it would be smart to do something bigger and better than all Hongjoong’s previous birthdays, which means throwing him a party. And before Hongjoong could even say no, Wooyoung hit him with the ‘I already bought all the stuff, San is at home decorating the house, your ass is coming over for drinks whether you like it or not’, so Hongjoong found himself roped into the mess without getting to a say in the matter. Maybe secretly Hongjoong appreciates it though, because he has been doing a lot of wallowing in his miserable feelings and self-loathing since that night at Yunho’s house.

It has been eleven days, not that Hongjoong is keeping track or anything stupid like that, but he has made note of how Yunho won’t look at him when he picks Akemi up from school. They haven’t met for dinner even once in the past two weeks, they haven’t spoken even a word to each other, and Akemi is the only thread hanging between them at the moment. Hongjoong is counting down the days to the end of the school year so the miserable awkwardness can be dispelled and he can move on with his life without having to see Yunho in it. He isn’t necessarily upset at Yunho anymore; it is moreso a matter of Hongjoong hating himself for doing the same shit he always does and ruining something perfectly good and wonderful. San didn’t help either with the long-winded lecture he threw Hongjoong’s way after six days of moping around by himself.

“Just admit that you fucked up. That will help you move on faster and get over these feelings. No one is asking you to be miserable, Joong. No one thinks you deserve to feel that way either, because you don’t. You are the only one making yourself feel that way, and it isn’t fair to yourself. I hate watching you go through this as much as Wooyoung does, but I won’t sit around and watch you hurt yourself without saying anything.”

He went on for a lot longer than that, but Hongjoong has selective memory and that is the only part that really stood out in his mind. Wooyoung made him swear that he wouldn’t think about that today, and Hongjoong is really trying his best not to. Part of him hoped to wake up to a happy birthday text from Yunho even though he knows that’s the last thing he deserves.

“No one else is coming, right?” Hongjoong mumbles from the passenger seat, glancing over to where Wooyoung sits in the driver’s one with one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with the radio dial.

“That’s a surprise, shush.”

“Wooyoung–”

“You know we wouldn’t bring anyone you hate, right? Just trust us!”

But what about anyone who hates me? Hongjoong wants to ask, mind only envisioning one tall brunette with round cheeks and a stupidly adorable dorky smile. His gut churns with unspoken anxiety as Wooyoung pulls into the driveway at his and San’s shared house. It’s a somewhat recent development for the two of them — moving in together, that is — but Hongjoong thinks the pair will be stuck at the hip forever, so it wasn’t a surprise to him when they dragged him out for house shopping with them. The exterior of the house is blessedly plain when they reach the door, and Hongjoong is glad that Wooyoung didn’t decide to plaster his name in gold across the front of the building on a banner or something drastic like that.

His hopes are shot the moment he steps through the door because rather than seeing San, all he can see are broad shoulders, a brown mop of hair, and lengthy legs standing in the middle of their living room with his back turned on Hongjoong.

He nearly turns on his heel and walks out the door right then and there because how the fuck did Wooyoung manage to get Yunho to come and why the fuck did Yunho agree to be here? Surely he didn’t know this was for Hongjoong. Maybe he somehow knows Wooyoung and San through something else. Even so, how did they convince him to come? This makes no sense, and Hongjoong is reeling so much that he can’t even try to make it make even a sliver of sense. All his brain can do is go: what the fuck Choi San, what the fuck Jung Wooyoung, what the fuck Jeong Yunho.

“We were gonna invite Akemi too, but adult drinks are involved so that was out of the question,” Wooyoung whispers, leaning in close to speak into the shell of Hongjoong’s ear. “Please don’t be too mad at us. I know it’s your birthday, and we should’ve asked to make sure about this beforehand, but we knew you would probably say no because you were dead set on him hating you. Besides, he’s the one who reached out to me and asked if there was anything he could do. Found me through Instagram and saw all the pictures we’ve got together, so he messaged me and asked after you. He… Hongjoong, he won’t shut up about how much he’s worried about you. I thought I was bad with San, but damn, this man has me beat.”

San has Yunho distracted enough to where the man doesn’t notice that he and Wooyoung have come in yet, so Hongjoong takes the opportunity to reel on the man by his side and punch him in the arm. Wooyoung winces and releases an all too loud scream that betrays their presence in the house.

“Ow, you bitch!”

“Yep, there they are!” San chirps, dimples flashing in Yunho’s direction, and the man finally turns to face the door. Hongjoong is fully prepared for hell to break loose when their gazes meet. There’s nothing he can do to prepare himself for it except hold onto his breath like it’s a lifeline and wait for Yunho to spew angry words and hatred his way. It never comes. Wooyoung slips away from his side, moving to join San at the other end of the entryway, and Yunho walks forward to replace his presence.

“Um, happy birthday,” Yunho says, tone so quiet that Hongjoong almost doesn’t pick up a single word. The taller man looks nervous beyond belief, and his gaze flits away from Hongjoong’s after a single second of eye contact, slipping down to the floor instead.

“Who’s watching Akemi?” He asks without a breath of hesitation. Yunho huffs out a small laugh.

“My parents. They flew in yesterday to visit us, so I figured I could escape for at least part of the night.”

Who knows when the last time Yunho got to see his parents was yet he still decided to come to a stranger’s house for Hongjoong? Even after what Hongjoong said to him?

“You… I-I – why did you come?”

“I selfishly wanted to see you on your birthday?”

“But what I said to you and – and how I treated you… I don’t understand.”

Yunho presses his lips into a smile.

“Don’t understand what? Why I’m here? I’d hoped the gesture would be enough to convey my feelings.”

“You,” Hongjoong exhales, but that’s all he can get out.

“I hope you won’t be too mad that I brought you a gift.”

“Just you being here is enough.” Hongjoong huffs out a laugh as the corners of his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Shaky hands find Yunho’s collar and twist around his shoulders until Hongjoong can properly pull him into a hug. Yunho drapes his arms around Hongjoong’s waist without a drop of hesitation, pulling the shorter man in until all their senses are full of each other. “Everything about you is enough, Yunho.”

Yunho drops his face into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, and the younger is almost definitely crying now, tears wetting Hongjoong’s skin as he clings to the man tighter.

“I’m so sorry for making you feel like you aren’t enough,” Hongjoong murmurs against the shell of the man’s ear. He runs a hand through Yunho’s hair, scraping blunt painted nails over his scalp with no particular rhythm. “Y-You’re so much more — so much more than enough.”

“Why are you making me cry on your birthday?” Yunho laughs, words reverberating against his skin, and the butterflies in Hongjoong’s stomach flutter dangerously.

“Why are you crying on my birthday?”

“Aside from Akemi, you’re one of the only good things I have in my life. I was scared I was going to lose you by being careless. I don’t – I don’t want to be careless with you, Hongjoong. I wanted to follow you out that door but couldn’t bring myself to.”

I want you. I like you. I need you. I love you. Hongjoong is thinking of all the things he could say, and the confidence is there, the willpower to say them is boiling over in his gut. San and Wooyoung watch from the edge of the living room with bitten-back smiles and a knowing gleam to their eyes. Even if they can’t hear the conversation, Hongjoong doesn’t doubt that they’ve stood in the same position and whispered confessions and promises and apologies to each other like this too. Instead of those confessions, Hongjoong mutters something else.

“I don’t want you to be nothing.”

“I spent too long hoping you would say that.” Yunho pulls his head up from Hongjoong’s neck and furiously blinks his tears away as he looks the shorter man in the eye.

“What else did you hope I would say?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to ask for anything more than that.”

Hongjoong presses a hand to Yunho’s cheek, collecting the tears staining his skin and pushing them away with the pads of his thumb.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope not. I’d like to keep you around for as long as possible.”

It’s not a confession for either of them. They aren’t admitting to anything special or telling each other how they feel or if they even feel the same way about each other. Maybe there are romantic emotions behind the words or maybe not; Hongjoong doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and call anything too early. For now, he’s content with this. This admission of needing each other and wanting to be around each other. And when Hongjoong is ready, he will dissolve the line of friendship that he drew in the sand and be honest about how he feels. This is already more than he could have hoped for given what he said and how vehemently he tried to destroy their relationship.

“Um, as cute as you guys are, can you hurry it up so we can open presents?” Wooyoung croons from the other side of the room, and Hongjoong holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “And Yunho is not a present so please for the sake of my innocence don’t do anything explicit opening up over there!”

“You whore!” Hongjoong scoffs, glancing around Yunho’s shoulder to scowl at his friend. Wooyoung simply beams back at him before making a crude gesture with his hand and giving him a thumbs up. Still, they both heed his words and untangle their arms from each other to follow the other two further into the living room while Wooyoung prattles on about the new furniture he’s planning on getting for the house to a mildly interested Yunho. San stops beside Hongjoong, careening an elbow into his side and flashing his dimples. “Was this your idea?”

“Maybe? You should be glad I didn’t decide to lock the two of you in a room so you could talk shit through.” San clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Progress is progress, I suppose, so I can’t be too mad at the fact that you two literally look at each other with hearts in your eyes yet still refuse to confess.”

“Yeah, well, took you eight months to grow the balls to ask Wooyoung out.”

“Part of that was your fault. He’s your best friend before he’s my boyfriend, and I thought you would kill me if I so much as looked at him the wrong way.”

“Still might,” Hongjoong grumbles before joining the aforementioned man on the couch. Wooyoung scrambles to the side just before he sits down, making space between him and Yunho for Hongjoong to sit.

“Okay, me first, me first!” Wooyoung insists as he passes an all too large package Hongjoong’s way with his trademark toothy smile. Hongjoong least favorite part about birthdays is the awkwardness that comes with opening presents because he is the type who needs to give in return for receiving something. And if he’s being honest, he is most nervous about whatever Yunho brought him, but he tries to distract himself with Wooyoung and San’s gifts first.

Wooyoung gets him a new jean jacket along with a set of paints that Hongjoong had been eyeing for a while, adding that he got himself a jacket as well so that they could reform the clothes together as a friend project. Hongjoong pokes fun at him for the action and accuses him of only getting Hongjoong something because Wooyoung wanted it for himself at first. Wooyoung plays along with a scrunched nose, faking offense to mess with Hongjoong some more before San interrupts to pass another gift his way. Hongjoong unwraps a new pair of shoes from the man who insists they’ll add at least two inches to Hongjoong’s height just from the insoles, and he nearly earns a boot in the face for that comment but Hongjoong holds back only because Yunho is present.

And speaking of Yunho, that’s how Hongjoong finds himself suddenly looking him in the eye as the man extends a delicately wrapped box with a small blue bow on top of it.

“I wasn’t too sure what to get you but… I hope you’ll like it,” Yunho says just before biting his lip so hard that it hurts to look at. Hongjoong exhales a nervous laugh, fingers nearly shaking as he pulls the wrapping paper away and reveals the box underneath. He knows from experience that it must be jewelry of some sort, but even thinking about it can’t prepare him for what’s inside.

“Y-Yunho,” he stammers, eyes flitting between the gift and the man’s face in absolute disbelief. It’s something small and delicate, a thing that might be insignificant upon first glance or to anyone other than Yunho and Hongjoong themselves, but Hongjoong knows the second he sees it how special and precious the thought behind it is.

“Her mother used to call her that.”

“He would show me the pretty butterflies he painted and would read me a poem to help me fall asleep.”

“Okay, one little butterfly safely put back to bed without any issue.”

On a small bed of white foam there sits a little blue butterfly. It’s attached to a silver chain at the tip of one of the wings, tilted at a slight angle in the box, and Hongjoong tilts his head to match it as he stares down.

“We should get the drinks,” San cuts in, shaking Hongjoong out of his stunned reverie.

“Okay, babe. Have fun with that!”

“No, we, Wooyoung, we should get the drinks.”

“Huh? Why we? Oh! Oh. Oh my god, yes, we should definitely get the drinks. Excuse us for a second, we’ll be right back!” Wooyoung bolts from his spot on the couch, followed quickly by San, and all of a sudden, it’s just Hongjoong and Yunho sitting in the living room. Endless amounts of empty space around them yet only mere centimeters separating their thighs from touching.

“A butterfly,” Hongjoong whispers at last, and he finally dares to look back up at Yunho. Yunho doesn’t look back at him though; he has his head hung a bit, fingers awkwardly and nervously clasped around something on his neck. Hongjoong waits as patiently as he can for the man to react in some way, and once again his heart threatens to stop in his chest. Yunho unfolds his fingers to reveal an identical silver chain with a blue butterfly pendant placed in the exact same position as the one Hongjoong holds in his hand.

“It’s a, um, it’s a custom piece. The one I have, I mean. I got it shortly after Akemi’s mother and I officially split and she moved out. I contacted the jeweler who made it for me and asked if he could make another and he said absolutely, so… yeah.” Custom piece. Identical. Hongjoong might pass out actually. Yunho continues after a quick lick of his lips. “You’ve always — you always act like a father to Akemi even though no one expects you to or demands that of you. You do it willingly and happily, and I never thought I would meet a person like you in a million years. I don’t know how to show my gratitude for that but I thought that out of everyone in my life, you deserve this the most.”

A key to Yunho’s heart, his pride and joy, and an invitation. To what exactly, Hongjoong doesn’t think he could figure that out right now, but he indulges in himself a bit, turning around on the couch so his back is now to Yunho. With a quick flick of his wrist, he extends the box with the necklace behind him, giving Yunho a silent plea to put the necklace on for him. Yunho takes it in stride and pulls the box from Hongjoong’s hand. Their fingers brush for half a second, but both chase the feeling for another half-second before Yunho dips his chin with a chuckle.

The metal of the chain and pendant is cold against his skin, slipping over his neck and under the collar of his shirt before he can stop it. Hongjoong reaches up to touch the jewelry if only to confirm that it’s real, this is real, Yunho is real.

Yunho does his best not to touch the back of Hongjoong’s neck, and the older of the two is glad for it because he isn’t sure if his heart can handle much more of this.

“There,” Yunho whispers once the clasp sits attached on Hongjoong’s skin.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong says as he turns to face Yunho once more. His hand still sits atop the pendant, and he isn’t sure he could move it if he wanted to with how touched he is by the gesture of the necklace.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

A breath of silence. Hongjoong feels like Yunho is the only person in the universe at that moment, the only other human being who knows him and understands him in ways even Hongjoong doesn’t himself.

“I want to.”

“Then I suppose I can’t stop you if it’s what you want.” Yunho’s eyes are twinkling under the fluorescent lights above them, little gems that shine with so much emotion that Hongjoong is overwhelmed just from the sight of it.

“I was engaged,” Hongjoong blurts. He isn’t sure what comes over him or possesses him to say such a thing, and as soon as he processes what he’s said, he flings a hand up to cover his mouth. Yunho blinks back in equal parts shock and confusion. “I – hold on, I m-meant, uh, let me start over.” Hongjoong is begging Wooyoung and San to come back and save him from this awkwardness, but apparently, his mouth has a mind of its own because he just keeps speaking instead. “My last relationship – the one I kinda told you about – we were together for three years then he proposed to me. We were engaged for seven months and planned the wedding and honeymoon and everything. There weren’t… any problems between us, at least I didn’t see any signs of there being something wrong. A few days before the wedding, he c-called it off and said he didn’t want to marry me.”

“Wh–Why?” Yunho exhales, and the one word quivers on his tongue.

“He… found someone else he wanted to be with more. Made more money than me, taller than me, better looking no doubt – just everything he wanted and more. He didn’t even cheat on me b-but I selfishly wished he had just so that I could justify how I felt. I wanted to hate him but couldn’t even do that because he was open and h-honest and kind even then. I get scared with you because you’re so – so kind. So giving, and I get scared that I won’t be good enough in the long run.” Scared that it will happen again. That’s what Hongjoong wishes he could say, but he doesn’t need to because Yunho understands nonetheless.

Large hands cup his jaw, and Hongjoong is forced to look up at the man across from him.

“Anyone – and I truly mean anyone, Hongjoong – would be lucky to call you theirs for eternity. I hate that someone took that away from you and made you feel like you’re less than perfect.” Yunho is pulling him closer. He is sinking into Yunho’s touch, long fingers guiding him forward with endless gentleness, and Hongjoong secures a hand by Yunho’s side as he gets closer. Their noses brush, a smile twitches at Yunho’s lips, and Hongjoong is about to risk it all for this man.

“I’m not drunk this time,” Hongjoong murmurs, hot breath cascading over Yunho’s mouth.

“You’re not.”

“So kiss m—”

“Got drinks!”

Hongjoong has never scrambled to get away from a person faster in his life, and he’s pretty sure he nearly faceplants atop the glass coffee table in his rush to separate himself from Yunho.

Fuck Jung Wooyoung.

“Oh s-shit, uh, hold on, we’ll go back into the kitchen for a second! Continue!” Hongjoong hears angry whispers, followed by a loud smack and a noise of indignation coming from San as the pair rush to get back into the kitchen. Hongjoong’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. The mood has most definitely been killed thanks to Wooyoung’s interruption, and when Hongjoong glances over to gauge Yunho’s reaction, he finds a pretty blush splayed over the man’s cheeks.

It shouldn’t change anything. Friends have their moments like this, right? Friends get each other gifts and such, and maybe sometimes they nearly kiss in moments of clouded judgment. Yunho’s expression is one that Hongjoong can’t read. It’s only after he’s been staring at the younger man for well over a minute that Yunho meets his gaze and offers a shaky smile.

It shouldn’t change anything, so why does it feel like the ground under Hongjoong has been shifted in ways that he both can’t explain or reverse? The slippery slope just keeps sending him down.

…

There is an unspoken shift between the two of them from the night onwards. Nothing else significant happened that night; Yunho stayed to eat with them and drink a bit before saying that it was time for him to get back to Akemi. Hongjoong walked him to the door, put a hand on his arm, and thanked him one more time. They stared at each other’s lips for far too long, then Wooyoung started screaming about how San spilled beer on the couch cushions, and Hongjoong let Yunho go without asking for anything else from the man.

Their dinners resume as well, and Hongjoong is more grateful for that than he’d like to admit because admitting it would mean acknowledging how intense his feelings for the man are. They don’t talk about the near kisses or lingering touches either, but that’s alright by Hongjoong’s standards. He’ll take the peace and pining while it lasts because that’s the best way for him to avoid pain in the long run. He does make certain not to drink enough to get drunk like he did that one night. Things don’t change beyond that, that is until one day in mid-December when Hongjoong is back to visit for dinner but it’s quite different this time.

First, it’s a Saturday rather than their usual Fridays. Hongjoong couldn’t make it the day before because he promised that he would go visit Seonghwa and Yeosang in the new house they bought recently.

Second, Akemi isn’t present. According to Yunho, she’s off staying the night at a friend’s house for a birthday sleepover, so for the first time ever, Hongjoong is alone with Yunho in the house. He tries to insist that this won’t make anything different between them. It’s just their typical dinner after all, even if Akemi isn’t with them.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Yunho asks midway through a bite of chicken. To be frank, Hongjoong completely forgot about the holiday. It’s never something huge or drastically special to him, so he pushed the thought of it to the back of his mind, but he should probably start debating what he’s going to be doing since it’s less than a week away now.

“Uh, I’m not sure. I won’t be going home, I know that much. Tickets are too expensive, and it isn’t worth the hassle to go. What about you?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it. Work is always busiest this time of year, but I’ll get some time off starting next week.”

“Not going home?” Hongjoong inquires, glancing over at the man.

“No, not this year. Parents are going to France for a trip so there won’t be anyone to go home to.”

“It’ll just be you and Akemi then?”

“Yup, first time too.”

Hongjoong has an idea. A bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

“If you – I, um, it will be a bit cramped, but you two could come to my place for Christmas?” He sounds too hopeful, and he probably looks a bit desperate with his lower lip caught between his teeth. Yunho cocks his head to the side. The silence that ensues feels like a ton of bricks sitting atop Hongjoong’s chest, and he’s about to backtrack and call the idea stupid when Yunho finally speaks.

“I was going to ask the same of you actually.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, y-yeah, uh—”

“Do you want to come over for Christmas, Hongjoong?” Yunho interjects. His gaze pierces the side of Hongjoong’s head, and the older man is certain that he forgets how to breathe for a second.

“I would love that,” he exhales quietly. Yunho hums through another bite of food and continues to finish his meal without mentioning it again, but the smile that lingers on his lips for the rest of dinner has Hongjoong’s heart doing cartwheels and frontflips for too long. They clean the dishes side by side for once. Without one of them needing to tuck Akemi in for the night, they can get the dishes done a lot faster than usual. Still, Hongjoong cannot shake the feeling that something they’re both unaware of is about to happen. Nothing about Yunho’s behavior is different tonight. Hongjoong thinks he’s acting normally himself as well.

So why? Why does this feel so different?

Yunho puts on a movie for the two of them to watch while Hongjoong finishes his one (and only) glass of wine. He might need more than that though because as much as he tries, he cannot tear his eyes away from the man on the other side of the couch. Yunho is far too attractive for his own good, legs splayed wide open and thighs on full display with one hand pressed to his right thigh and the other draped over the back of the couch.

“Are you cold?” Yunho asks after about half an hour of Hongjoong’s wandering eyes and lack of focus on the movie.

“H-Huh?” Hongjoong stammers.

“You keep curling up further and further in that corner of the couch.”

“Oh, I’m – I’m fine. I need to run to the bathroom actually.” Hongjoong bolts up before Yunho can reply, darting away from the living room in his sudden bout of panic. He doesn’t need to go to the bathroom, and Yunho probably knows that; all he needs to do is lecture his reflection in the mirror and tell himself to pull it together. He also wants to plaster the words ‘I’m desperately in love with you’ across his forehead just so that he doesn’t have to confess to Yunho himself.

No, Hongjoong, bad idea.

All Hongjoong does is splash some water across his face before returning to the living room. Yunho has shifted a bit and now has a blanket draped over his legs. When he catches sight of Hongjoong, he offers a grin and pulls the blanket up a tad.

“Just admit you’re cold and get under the blanket with me.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong squeaks out, trying to hide his flushing cheeks from view as he slips under the blanket. The space between their bodies is absolutely minimal now. Hongjoong tries to keep himself as far from Yunho’s body as possible, but he was truly cold and the warmth the blanket provides is really nice. Between the blanket, Yunho, and the soft volume of the television playing in the background, he can’t help but to become more drowsy with each passing second. Yunho’s arm is still on the back of the couch, nearly around Hongjoong’s shoulders, and if he’s honest, Hongjoong is only thinking about that and nothing else.

“For Christmas, do you want me to bring anything?” He asks after a while in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Yunho hums a little, head tilting side to side.

“I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. We can talk about that later on though.” Yunho sounds tired as well, and Hongjoong can’t tell whether that’s a good thing or not. On one hand, if they’re both so tired, it wouldn’t be as awkward to fall asleep like this, but on the other, it would be too intimate given Hongjoong’s feelings for him. “Do you want me to put up any specific decorations?”

“Hm? I don’t have a preference. It’s your home, you can choose whatever you like,” Hongjoong murmurs back, daring to let his head fall closer to Yunho’s shoulder.

“Can I put up mistletoe then?”

“Wh-What?”  That caught Hongjoong’s attention. And woke him up quite a bit too.

“I think you’d look cute under it,” Yunho whispers through a smile, leaning in to speak the words closer to Hongjoong’s mouth. “And it would give me an excuse to kiss you.”

What. What? Passing out seems like a good idea all of a sudden.

“Do you need an excuse?”

“Depends.” Yunho shrugs. The hand resting on the back of the couch falls forward, brushing Hongjoong’s shoulder before coming up to toy with a few strands of his hair.

“What if… what if I ask you to?” Hongjoong wets his lips then drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He doesn’t intend to be so seductive in the action; it’s merely a nervous habit he has, but Yunho watching his mouth move so intently that Hongjoong might melt.

“Are you asking me to?”

“No,” Hongjoong exhales. That catches Yunho a bit off-guard, eyes blinking furiously like he’s misunderstood Hongjoong’s advances and actions this whole time, but the older rushes to finish his thought. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you to kiss me already, Yunho. I’ve waited long enough, no?”

Yunho inhales so sharply that air whistles through his teeth. His eyes search Hongjoong’s features for something else, maybe a sign that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying, but all Hongjoong wears is pure determination and pent-up frustration at taking this long to kiss the man. Yunho curls his fingers in Hongjoong’s hair, gripping it like a vice but not hard enough to cause any pain.

“I didn’t expect you to be the demanding type, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong arches a brow at that and curls his lips enough to be taunting. Apparently, that turns out to be Yunho’s limit because the man finally dips in to close the distance between their mouths. He pulls at Hongjoong’s hair a little harder to get better access to his mouth. Hongjoong is positively floating with even the smallest pressure of the kiss, but when Yunho’s lips slot against his and deepen the pressure, he thinks that there’s no way this is reality. He’s ascended to the last level of heaven and is on his way to paradise, that’s the only explanation for this.

Hongjoong doesn’t remember moving at all but suddenly he’s pushing his way out from under the blanket and straddling Yunho’s hips without missing a beat. Their lips are still connected, thin trails of spit between them that only increase in volume when Hongjoong gets bold enough to swipe his tongue over the younger man’s lip. Yunho uses his free hand to yank the blanket out from between their bodies, letting Hongjoong press closer to his chest in a heated fervor. He can’t seem to move fast enough, nipping at Yunho’s lip until the man gasps. His tongue slips in next and fills the empty space in Yunho’s mouth to clash with the man’s tongue in a show of dominance. He doesn’t get to maintain that dominance for long as it turns out because Yunho gives a sharp tug to Hongjoong’s hair, and it sends a jolt through his body so intense that he forgets where he is and what he’s doing for a split second.

Yunho takes the opportunity to push back against Hongjoong’s tongue and shove his way into the smaller man’s mouth, and fuck, if that’s not the hottest thing he’s ever done, Hongjoong doesn’t know what could possibly top that. Until Yunho slips both hands down his back to secure at his hips with a grip that’s almost bruising in force, that is. That sends Hongjoong to a different plane of existence, but he doesn’t even want to come down from there if it means kissing Yunho like this. Or maybe just kissing him in general. He hasn’t decided.

Yunho decides it’s time to breathe, unfortunately, and Hongjoong has to pull away with no shortage of internal whining because goddammit lungs, hold a bit more air so he can kiss Yunho some more.

“That was nice,” Hongjoong exhales, still staring at the soft glisten of spit on Yunho’s lips. “Can we—”

“I like you, Hongjoong.”

“Y-You what?”

“I like you. In ways I can’t explain and in ways that words can’t describe. Just saying it wouldn’t do my feelings justice, and I-I thought… I hoped to make it clear on your birthday. When you asked me why I came and I said I hoped the gesture would convey my feelings – I should have said it then. I like you, every inch of you, every part of you inside and out, maybe so much so that it’s love.”

Hongjoong huffs out a breath of disbelief, jaw unable to close in his state of shock, and all he can do is bring a trembling hand to where Yunho’s heart lies behind the confines of his chest. Yunho gnaws at his lip. The corners of his mouth turn upward.

Then there's the two of us. This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness.

“I-I’ve liked you for s-so long,” Hongjoong whispers once the initial surprise passes. “I didn’t – I tried talking myself out of it and convincing myself that there was no way you could ever feel the same.”

It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear.

“How could I not when it’s you?” Yunho is holding his cheek now, thumb caressing his face like Hongjoong is a piece of glass in his hands. “You’re… everything I could ever have asked for in a person. Everything and more. I wish I could put it into words – how you make me feel – but the best I can do is say I think I love you.”

This word is not enough but it will have to do.

“I think I love you too.” It scares Hongjoong to admit that out loud; it’s something he could never even let himself say in his thoughts, but Yunho pulls the words from his lips with no effort at all. Like he’s meant to say it.

It's a single vowel in this metallic silence, a mouth that says ‘oh’ again and again in wonder and pain.

His chest burns a little from the heat of all the emotions running through his body. Yunho pulls him closer, one hand still wrapped around Hongjoong’s delicate waist with the other dragging soft patterns over his cheek. They have been this close for so long. They’ve worked in this standstill where they are together but apart, close but far away, and now all that’s left to do is increase the distance or close it forever.

A breath.

It is Hongjoong’s turn to inhale as Yunho sighs over his still-swollen lips.

A finger grip on a cliffside.

The way Yunho’s eyes rake over his face is intimate in a way Hongjoong can’t describe. Yunho almost speaks through only that gaze, like he’s telling – no, asking, pleading, begging Hongjoong to hold onto him and not let go.

You can hold on or let go.

Hongjoong, at last, has decided that he wants to hold on, even if the past has scarred him and the future scares him.

…

Hongjoong arrives outside Yunho’s door on Christmas day with a knot in his stomach that won’t go away. It’s not a bad sort of knot – at least he thinks it isn’t – but it is one that leaves him a bit nervous. The butterfly necklace Yunho gifted him still sits around his neck, not taken off once since Yunho gifted it to him, and the bag of gifts in his hands feels heavier than usual. He and Yunho have spoken since that night, but Hongjoong hasn’t come over again nor have they discussed what the events of that night entail for them moving forward. It would taste a lie on his lips if Hongjoong tried to say that he hasn’t been thinking about kissing Yunho every day since.

“Mr. Hong! You’re here! Mr. Hong is here, Daddy!” The door swings open to reveal Akemi, all dolled up in a precious little plaid dress with small butterfly clips in her hair, and Hongjoong’s nerves melt away at the sight of her bright smile. Then Yunho steps into view, much less dolled up and more looking like he just rolled out of bed five minutes ago, but Hongjoong can’t say that he doesn’t look damn good as it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about the possibility of waking up to a Yunho with bedhead and flushed cheeks.

“Can you take the gifts in for him, Mimi?” Yunho asks, running a hand through Akemi’s hair. She beams back at him and takes the bag in Hongjoong’s hands away without complaint, which leaves Hongjoong suddenly very empty-handed and alone before Yunho. “Hi friend.”

Friend? Hongjoong cocks his head to the side.

“That’s what you said the first time I tried to kiss you,” Yunho explains upon seeing Hongjoong’s confusion.

“Hi friend,” Hongjoong replies through a stretched grin. The sight of Yunho before him is making him feel a bit bold, maybe too reckless, but he rolls with it and stretches up on his tiptoes to place a small kiss on the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “Merry Christmas.”

“We’re not even under the mistletoe yet.”

Hongjoong squints and looks off to the side, pretending to think the words through, then breaks into a broad smile.

“Need an excuse to kiss me then?”

“Never,” Yunho murmurs before dipping in to give Hongjoong a proper kiss on the lips, and it’s everything he could have wanted and more. Everything about Yunho feels safe and warm, like something Hongjoong never wants to let go of, and thankfully Yunho seems to think the same of him as his lips chase after Hongjoong’s when the shorter man pulls away.

“Daddy! Mr. Hong will get cold if you don’t let him in!”

“Yeah, Yunho! Do you want me to get all cold out here?” Hongjoong teases, stepping around Yunho to properly greet Akemi inside.

“I had to wake Daddy up because he was trying to sleep in this morning,” the little girl explains when Hongjoong squats down to be eye level with her.

“Did you? Shame on him! He should know to be up early for Christmas morning!”

“He should! He said he stayed up late, so I think he was trying to spy on Santa.”

“Spy on Santa? My goodness, Yunho, you are causing trouble left and right.”

“Yes, well, Santa and I had to meet up during the night. I had to ask him for one more gift.”

“He didn’t leave any other gifts on the fireplace though, Daddy!” Akemi protests, motioning to the hearth behind her. Yunho blinks at the spot for a moment then turns to look down at Hongjoong with a smile.

“He brought my gift to the door this morning it seems.”

Hongjoong releases a scoff to hide his embarrassment and reaches over to swat at Yunho’s stupidly long legs.

“You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah, Daddy! Ew! Don’t say icky things!” Akemi scrunches up her nose and feigns disgust although Hongjoong isn’t sure she can even understand what Yunho means by his comment, so she might just be playing along with Hongjoong’s show of disgust. Yunho shakes his head a little but relents in his grossly cheesy comments to say something else.

“Mimi, honey, can you run upstairs for a moment? Daddy wants to talk to Mr. Hong in private for a little bit, then when we’re done, we can open up all the presents!”

“Okay, Daddy! Can I play with my dolls while I wait?”

“Of course, baby, go ahead. Run, run! We won’t be long, I promise!” Yunho shoos the little girl off, watching her bound up the stairs with nothing but fondness in his eyes, and he continues to stare after her even after Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet.

“Talk in private?” Hongjoong asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was going to wait until after gifts and such but… you decided to kiss me right off the bat, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus after that.”

“Are you saying that I’m distracting, Mr. Jeong?”

“In more ways than one, absolutely.” Yunho draws his lips into a tight purse then presses them into a thin line in the same motion. “What do you want us to be, Hongjoong?”

That’s… not the question Hongjoong was expecting.

“I’m content with it being up to you,” he whispers in response.

“If – so if I asked for us to be exclusive, what would you say?” Hongjoong’s heart leaps in his chest.

“Say the word and I’m yours, Yunho.”

“Well, you can’t say things like that. I’ll lose all my inhibitions before noon,” Yunho chuckles, dipping his head to his chest. Hongjoong takes a step closer to him and closes a bit of the distance between their bodies. He lifts a hand in a sudden bout of confidence and cups Yunho’s cheek.

“I want to be yours and only yours. Even if I’m scared of the future and what it holds, I don’t want to lose what we have or what we could have. So if you would have me, I will gladly be yours for as long as you want me.”

“And if I happen to want you forever?”

“Then you’re stuck with me,” Hongjoong murmurs. The undisclosed promises in those words sting a bit, memories of the past threatening to resurface until Yunho chases them away with his next words.

“Do you – do you want me as well?”

“I want you,” he whispers while the confidence still lasts. He delivers a quick kiss to the tip of Yunho’s nose. “I like you—” another to his right cheek “—I need you—” one where his thumb ends and Yunho’s skin begins “—and I’m madly in love with you, Jeong Yunho.”

It’s good that Hongjoong has nothing else to say because Yunho cuts off his air, lips smashing hard against his with an almost bruising force, and Hongjoong could almost cry because of all the emotions built up in his chest. He scrambles to wrap his arms around Yunho’s neck as the other man deepens the kiss. His back curls hard to press himself fully against Yunho. There’s a certain kind of desperation in his body, one that just makes him want to pull Yunho closer and kiss him for hours on end. Even if it’s not their first kiss or their last, Hongjoong cherishes it nonetheless. They only pull apart when every ounce of air has left their bodies and they’re on the verge of blacking out. Yunho gasps for air, huffing in deep breaths stolen from Hongjoong’s exhales, and it’s too close, too intimate, too everything. Hongjoong doesn’t want it to stop even for a second.

“Good because I’m in love with you too, Hongjoong. And I plan to continue loving you for as long as I can.”

He would like to think that there are unspoken promises in those words as well, ones that only the two of them know, but for now, Hongjoong will live in this moment as long as he can without thinking about the past or the future. He has Yunho now, and that's enough for him.

..

a/n: hi wow yes you made it to the end of this fic!! this is officially the longest standalone fic i’ve ever written and god it’s long as hell and took the life out of me but i absolutely adore this fic and am very proud of it and myself for finishing it! i hope you all enjoy as much as i do :c

[hualianff]

Mi Amor(tentia)

A Window To The Past – John Williams

Harry Potter AU. In his final year at Hogwarts, headboy and Hufflepuff quidditch team captain XL is caught up in a scandal where he performed magic in front of muggles to protect them from dangerous, dark sorcerers who had escaped Azkaban.

After the crucial incident ends with minor injuries to the muggles and XL’s miraculous defeat of all five dark wizards–though only one of them was successfully captured–the ministry expels him from Hogwarts due to his hasty and rash decision to duel without calling for backup, exposing hundreds of muggles to magic. The normalization of advanced technology had led to an alarming spread of awareness of the wizarding world. A messy clean-up indeed.

XL’s family’s name was dragged through the mud, the once appraised pure-blooded lineage honored no more. In addition to being estranged from his parents, XL’s so-called friends left him alone. He also lost a lot of who he was in his early adolescence. Since then, he has learned that even when his intentions are good, the end result isn’t always favorable.

After being expelled, disowned, and alienated from the wizarding world at age eighteen, XL traveled the world completing various bizarre jobs in order to get by and keep busy. Over a decade later, XL chooses to take the base exam equivalent to graduating from a magic school. With this requirement completed, and his years’ worth of experience under his belt, XL is qualified to teach as a professor at a magic school.

XL is lucky that JW, as the new headmaster, decided to hire XL onto the staff, as the new herbology professor. Herbology was always XL’s favorite subject. He’s in the middle of writing a massive index of new species he observed during his twenties!

It’s been so long since XL stepped foot in Hogwarts. Funnily enough, it feels a lot like coming home, a feeling XL hasn’t had in many years. He has a week to re-familiarize himself with the school grounds and meet the other professors before the students are scheduled to arrive for the new year.

One of the tasks XL is assigned as the herbology professor is to supply the potions professor with special plants and ingredients he has access to. The potions professor is named Hua Cheng, an intriguing name if XL says so himself. Though the first two times XL searches HC out to figure out which ingredients were needed most, HC isn’t in the room.

XL ponders if he should put together a basket of goods based on his own memory of which ingredients are popular in potions and see if HC has other suggestions afterward. Instead, XL decides to leave a letter arranging a meet-up time in hopes he can converse with the potions professor in person.

The next day XL enters the potions room, a tall youth stands over a cauldron while glancing down at a thick, opened book. He wears the standard black robes, the emerald green collar symbolizing he is part of Slytherin’s house. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail. XL wonders how a student is allowed to brew potions in the classroom a few days before all the other students return to Hogwarts.

He must be a prefect, or even headboy, to gain this privilege, XL decides.

XL shuffles around a bit until the youth notices his presence.

“Hello! So sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for Hua Lao Shi,” XL greets politely with a nod of his head. The youth merely straightens up. He tilts his head without saying anything. XL figures he must be a bit confused. XL quickly introduces himself, “I’m Xie Lao Shi, your new herbology instructor.”

The Slytherin student blinks. “Nice to meet your acquaintance, Xie Lao Shi. May I ask what the subject of your meeting with Hua Lao Shi entails?”

“Ah, I simply need to discuss the supplies Hua Lao Shi needs for the start of the school year.”

“Oh, that’s very considerate of Xie Lao Shi to ask beforehand. None of the previous herbology professors did so,” the youth comments idly. He steps away from the cauldron, waving his hand over it to temporarily seal the potion. XL’s eyebrows raise, impressed at the casual display of finesse. “But it’s nearly the start of the school year. Am I correct in my assumption that Hua Lao Shi hasn’t made himself readily available for a meeting?”

XL hums good-naturedly. “I’m sure he has his reasons. He must be quite busy these days leading up to classes starting.”

The Slytherin student lifts his hands in a playful shrug, a gesture implying, “As if.” He must be really close to the potions professor to act like this behind his back.

“Do you, by chance, know where Hua Lao Shi is at the moment?” XL asks, approaching the youth.

“Probably in Slytherin’s common room. At the beginning of each year, Hua Lao Shi performs numerous charms to prevent it from being ruined by whatever disastrous activities students engage in throughout the year,” the youth answers. He gathers up a bundle of scrolls to the left of the potions book, walking around the table to stand next to XL. “I can lead Xie Lao Shi to our common room, if he wishes.”

“Yes. That would be wonderful,” XL confirms with a smile. They begin exiting the potions room. “Thank you…?”

“Xie Lao Shi can call me San Lang.”

“San Lang seems very knowledgeable and mature for his age. Am I correct in my assumption that you are headboy?” XL questions, eager to know more about this charming youth who has given him the warmest welcome to Hogwarts yet.

SL lets out a throaty chuckle, eyes briefly closing as he laughs. Next, he sets those dark eyes on XL, shining with mirth. They maintain a steady pace of winding down staircases and corridors that eventually lead down to the dungeons.

“I’m afraid Xie Lao Shi is incorrect in his assumption this time. Headboy does not suit me.”

“Hmm, I beg to differ, based on the conversations I have had with you thus far,” XL disagrees lightly. Without thinking about his next words, XL continues teasingly, “San Lang seems like the perfect character to be in charge and order others around.”

This emits another loud laugh from SL. A hint of satisfaction bubbles in XL’s chest.

When they finally arrive at their destination, SL doesn’t even need to utter a password for the passage to open up. Strange, XL thinks. SL truly must be a figure to be reckoned with.

They enter an empty common room, spotless of any disorganization. Yet, no Hua Lao Shi in sight. XL follows SL who places the scrolls on the largest table in the room, which is already packed with inked parchment.

XL’s eyes flit over the pieces of parchments, belatedly making out class instructions, plans, and assignments written out.

Wait a second…

XL snaps his eyes back to SL, who turns around while pulling out the hair tie. Long, thick waves of raven hair spill over his shoulders; a black eyepatch now covers his right eye.

“Welcome, Xie Lao Shi,” Hua Cheng says knowingly, voice notably deeper. “Shall we start our discussion about the supplies?”

***

Potions professor HC is also the head of Slytherin. He is considered a prodigy who has published five potion manuals that are highly regarded among the wizarding world. HC is very intimidating and direct with his words; strict with his instruction but gives credit where credit is due. And he certainly doesn’t hesitate to take away house points!

He is known to wear an eyepatch but no one knows the reason why.

To put it shortly, many of the students and staff fear him.

Because XL hasn’t kept up with the wizarding world’s gossip, he didn’t know about HC’s reputation, even less about his physical appearance! It took HC revealing his true identity with the eyepatch for XL to recognize he had been talking to the potions professor all along!

***

“How very sly of Hua Lao Shi to masquerade as a student this entire time,” XL says with disbelief. He is incredibly close to dissipating right then and there from the sheer embarrassment of not realizing his mistake. Perhaps the Slytherin common room has a mysterious hole that can swallow him out of sight.

“I apologize if I have offended Xie Lao Shi in any way. However, he is the one who sees me as young enough to be a student. How could I do anything but indulge him?” HC replies, not unkindly.

“Hua Cheng is indeed...shameless,” XL breathes out. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, mind and body telling him to find a place to hide!

He settles for taking a seat at the table.

“Please, continue to call me San Lang,” HC requests gently. He takes a seat next to XL, rolling out a blank piece of parchment to write out the ingredients he’ll need from XL. “‘Hua Cheng’ is too formal.”

The explanation is surely a bit faulty? Why have XL call him ‘San Lang’ when his name is actually ‘Hua Cheng?’ Do the other professors call HC ‘San Lang?’

XL clasps his hands together on the table.

“Very well. I will address you as San Lang, but only when we’re alone,” XL says, determined to remain professional in front of the students.

Wait, that was very suggestive, wasn’t it-?

“When we’re alone, may I call you Gege?” HC adds on, interrupting XL’s internal panic. The younger man pins XL with a curious gaze, staring in a way XL is not used to being stared at. XL clears his throat while looking away.

“I will allow it.”

(Brainchild w/ @no-one-says-hi) 

《II》

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.���)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

[askaceattorney]

Dear Asexual-Deesasters,

Mod Edgeworth: 

If you want to know the answer to that question, go to this link.

Dear Skibot99,

Co-Mod: I’m fairly certain it was The Mod, but I don’t know for sure.  He actually had another one before it, made from an old Ace Attorney musical animation.  I haven’t been able to locate that video, unfortunately, but here’s the old banner:

Ah...  Those were good days.  Good days.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Co-Mod: It’s fine.  Besides, it won’t be too long before those letters are accepted, so maybe we’ll hold onto them until that time.

Dear skibot99 again,

Mod Edgeworth: The Lost Turnabout hands down. All logic is thrown out the window the moment Phoenix had amnesia. It’s clear the Judge knew something was wrong with Phoenix, so why didn’t he call for a recess or check on Phoenix? Not to mention Wellington was annoying. He’s probably the only character I would be hesitant to play as when answering letters, if only because he was so unbearable.

As for Turnabout Ablaze, I do agree that it is a drag to get through in the end, though the entire game of AAI was boring, aside from the game mechanics. As a case by itself, I wouldn’t put it as my least favorite, if only because I did get some funny parts out of it.  It also contributed to the overall story, whereas The Lost Turnabout could just be taken out and it wouldn’t effect the overarching plot.

Co-Mod: I’d probably have to go with Turnabout Big Top.  I honestly couldn’t figure out the part where you have to present Max’s poster without consulting a walkthrough.  Why couldn’t we just present Max himself?  Besides that, the ending was largely underwhelming -- the murder weapon was hidden under Acro’s blanket the entire time, but instead of seeing a screenshot of it there, we just have to imagine it.  Maybe it was a filler case, but that was no excuse for it to end so poorly.  Not to mention one of the witnesses was a literal puppet.

It’s hard truth, Trilo.  Live with it.

Dear skibot99 and Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: I… think I heard from her when the localization of DGS was announced? I know Mod Kristoph and Mod Maya introduced themselves when I came into the group. There’s a third person, but I only heard from her once. As for what’s going on with her… I don’t know.

As for the flooding the inbox, it’s fine. I won’t promise a letter or two won’t be deleted, but we may make an exception and I’d hardly consider 4-5 different letters flooding the inbox. However, I do highly suggest lowering your letter sending to no more than three a day to prevent deletion of your letters. The only time I’d say your letters are flooding the inbox is when you’re sending 10-20 of them, especially of the same letter, and we have to scroll down for a while to get to the next letter. We will only choose three out of that pile and delete the rest.

And yes, we do have a few that send us 10-20 of the same letter to multiple characters in the span of five minutes. Geez.

Co-Mod: Mod Paups has had to remain absent for personal reasons, and sadly, has recently communicated to me that she wishes to leave the blog entirely.  Thanks for all you’ve contributed to this blog, Mod Paups, and best of luck in whatever you do next!

(Referenced Letter)

Dear mungeondaster,

Mod Edgeworth: Since I answered this one, I shall answer your letter.

(^ Why do I always use this sprite? ^) Actually, the localization never specified if Manfred Von Karma was born in Germany or not. In fact, we never knew the German part until Justice For All when Franziska Von Karma was stated to have flown all the way from Germany. It never specifies any reason for this and fans were quick to jump to the conclusion that it means the Von Karma family were German, which… isn’t entirely true? Manfred Von Karma never said he lived in Germany and, for all we know, Franziska could’ve lived in Germany to study law or something.

Now, the OG does give us more specific detail on this, being why I answered this the way I did. In the OG, both Von Karma’s were born Japanese, but lived in America or at least have an estate there. It specified that they were originally born in Japan, which would be translated to LA, California in the localization. While using the OG canon isn’t normal here, I will use it, if the localization doesn’t specify things. In this case, it never specified if the Von Karma’s were born in Germany or if Manfred Von Karma lived in America. Since he had to wait out the Statue of Limitations for DL-6, we can assume he lived in LA for 15 years or more. That means he’s American.

I am still getting the hang of writing letters, but I try to stick to canon as much as possible. If you believe we’ve made an error in our letters, feel free to let us know, but also show proof, if we go against canon. We’ll be sure the letter is sent to the right mod or else fix it.

Dear  Bluedragoncody,

Mod Edgeworth: I... don’t know how to feel about that.

Also, I accidentally deleted your previous letter before this one when trying to post it on here. I’m so sorry about that. If you could remember it, would you send it again?

Co-Mod: I’ll just respond to this with an old classic:

Dear Aceattorneyismyjam,

Mod Edgeworth: I-I’m not a pro! I accidentally deleted an important mod question from bluedragoncody, because of my inexperience. Oof! Again, so sorry!

Granted, I am good with digital art and writing essays, but I’m still trying to get the hang of being a mod here. Believe me, I do get corrected on several mistakes I do here. I can’t really call myself a pro just yet. I’ve only just started becoming a mod here last month lol

Dear Dahlia,

Mod Edgeworth: I thank you for your support of this blog and my essay. Manfred Von Karma is also my favorite villain and someone I do feel is underestimated as a one dimensional villain. I think people hate him so much, because of how he ruined Miles Edgeworth’s life without looking at the bigger picture. They focus on the bad things with their black colored glasses without dissecting Manfred Von Karma’s character as a whole. 

One thing I love about this blog, even before becoming a mod, is that no one here ever portrayed Manfred Von Karma as the one dimensional villain. He can be snappy at times, but as proven in many of our previous letters, he’s also portrayed as being calm when threatened, polite at times and absolutely loves his wife and children. Yes, he’s a terrible person, but that’s what makes him so interesting. He’s a bad, evil person that does good things from time to time. It doesn’t justify any of his horrible deeds, murder included, but it does make him human.

Co-Mod: I’m...going to assume you’re a different Dahlia.  (I’m grabbing a Magatama of Parting just in case, though.  I’m sure you can understand.)

Anyway, thanks for being such a loyal follower!  This blog’s been through a lot of changes since it began, and since I joined it back in 2017, so I’m glad it’s still a good source of enjoyment for you.  I’ve seen all sorts of cringe by now, by the way (some of which I wrote myself), so don’t worry about it.

I’m also glad that the characters still sound like themselves and not like us.  The hilarious personalities and quirks given to them by Capcom’s writers, as well as the humanity in so many of them, make them easy to relate to, and thus fairly easy to mimic.  I may have said something like this before, but I see myself in a lot of them -- in Athena’s fear of inadequacy, in Apollo’s desire for justice in a world where it’s hard to find, in Sebastian’s confusion about where to go next after his world falls apart, and possibly even in the von Karmas’ desire for perfection.  I of course identify with their positive feelings as well -- Phoenix’s smugness when he gets things right, Athena’s joy after pulling off a victory in court, Adrian’s pride after her self-confidence is restored, etc. -- but there’s something about the struggles they face that make them easier to relate to, on top of being that much more awesome in the end.

Unfortunately, I can’t promise anything about this blog continuing on in perpetuity.  For one thing, I don’t plan on being around forever (I’m fairly certain the other Mods don’t, either), and for that matter, there’s also no telling how long Tumblr will be around.  All I can promise is that I’ll give my best while I’m here, and that the love from you and everyone else who shares it here is sure to be what keeps us going.  Thank you for your contribution!

Dear TurqouiseJavelin,

Mod Edgeworth: Hm... not bad ideas. Though, we mods choose our own mod names under the condition that it doesn’t match anyone else’s mod name.

Co-Mod: What Mod Edgeworth said.  Choosing the name “Mod Athena” may or may not increase your chances of being hired, though.  *wink, wink*

Dear Anonymous, 

Mod Edgeworth: Actually, Gregory was stated in the Autopsy to have died by a gunshot. However, you do bring up something interesting. If Gregory Edgeworth realized he was dead and last remembered Robert Hammond strangling him, he wouldn’t think “I died by the shot of a gun.” Since the Detectives weren’t aware that victim had died unconscious, they’d assume the victim would recall being shot and killed. This makes me wonder if Gregory Edgeworth was channeled, but never brought to court to be cross-examined.

There are still holes, but I do like your aspect on DL-6.

Co-Mod: Dang...  No matter how many times you come back to this game, there’s always something new to think about.  I honestly hadn’t considered those details about Yanni Yogi’s trial.  Your explanation makes the most sense to me, but there’s one other possibility regarding Gregory’s testimony -- he may have chosen to lie about who murdered him in order to protect his son from a murder charge.  That’s all open to interpretation, of course, so your guess is as good as ours.

It’s a good thing we’re not actual defense attorneys, huh?

-The Mods

[draven-imani]

Journal 5 (part 1)

We’ve had an…extremely productive day. We found a note on Hosilla’s person that detailed three safehouses of the cult of Baphomet: Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod. The note was signed SV—which I’m assuming is Stauton Vhagn. Looks like he came back and finished the job of destroying the Wardstone after Commander Tirabade stopped him the first time.

After talking to Aravashnial, Anevia, and Horgus, we pooled our information together. Nyserian Manor was owned by a noble who sometimes worked with Horgus, and had taken out a loan from him once to buy Commander Tirabade’s sword from her. Anevia hadn’t been aware Irabeth had sold her sword—apparently she’d told her wife she’d lost it. Anevia was going to be having words with the commander of the Eagle Watch upon seeing her again.

The Tower of Estrod was of interest to Aravashnial, as it was a place of arcane studies. He also requested that we look into the Blackwing Library, where the Riftwardens would be located.

Anevia wanted to look for Irabeth, and therefore would like to look into going home as that was the only lead she had on where her wife may be.

As we discussed, we exited the subterranean tunnels and entered the sewers. And came upon three orphan kids and a middle aged pinkish tiefling woman with many piercings and a bow. The orphans immediately ran to Luna, clearly familiar with her. Another point in her favor for ‘good person, not a murderer/serial killer/whatever else the rumor mill decides to say’.

“So you must be ‘Una’,” the tiefling said, imitating the orphans mispronunciation of her name. Or maybe legitimately mistaking her name for that. “Nice to meet you, incase you haven’t noticed, everything’s gone to hell.”

The tiefling introduced herself as Hiskaria. She had arrived in town from Numeria recently to join the Raven Corps, actually, although she was apparently a Kenabres native initially. She was on lone by one ‘Kevoth-Kul’, because she was a criminal on parole, and joining the Raven Corps was her penance.

Ouch.

Aaaaaand as the only member of the Raven Corps around that means it fell on me to keep her around until we could either find her handler or someone with more authority. That and strength in numbers. We couldn’t exactly leave her behind, even if she is a confessed murderer.

Oh, yeah, I didn’t mention that her crime was murder did I? Yeah, our new buddy’s a convicted murderer. One fake murderer and one real one, and if I had to put money on it, everyone’s going to get who’s who wrong.

After some discussion, we decided to head for Horgus’ manor first. It would provide a safe place to leave the orphans, so that we wouldn’t be dragging them around in the open where every demon still lurking around might decide to swoop down on them.

We made it there with only minor incident, some rat demon ripping up a clothing store who dubbed himself ‘the rat king’. He was of personal offense to Melody given that he was in the process of destroying things of beauty. That and the owners of the shop were still there and might be able to salvage some things.

Given my studies I was able to identify the demon as an Abrikandilu, a wrecker demon. A destroyer of beauty, not just of artwork like the dresses, but of physical beauty, using their fangs to cause horrible scarring on those they attack. I also knew that Radiance was the only weapon we had that would pierce its defenses, although it also had a unique weakness to mirrors, due to all demons of this kind having an abhorrence of their own visage. That being the case, I suggested that Luna and Melody slip into the store to get one of the mirrors from the changing rooms within while I distracted and fought it with Radiance and Hiskaria took pot shots at it from a safe distance.

Radiance and I were both more than happy to finally be putting a demon to the blade.

Spilling demons’ blood, at least, we both agree on.

Things went off about how we’d hoped. The Abrikandilu was a bit faster than I’d anticipated and it rushed me rather than me pinning it by the building as I’d planned, but I stopped its fangs with my shield and avoided any new scars. Melody and Luna came out with a mirror, which drew the demon’s attention. Luna’s axe stuck into it. Then Radiance slew it.

Radiance roared in my head each time it drew blood against a demonic foe, in what I can only describe as ecstasy. They, at least, get joy from battle. I wish I could say the same, but the demons die all the same. I feel good about it, that we slayed the demon and helped those people. It’s something good. Not joy, that’s too strong of a word. I feel—satisfied, maybe?

Regardless, the shop owners thanked us. They had little to offer and we tried to assure them that we didn’t need anything, but they insisted on at least providing us with a nice outfit each in thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything so fine. An orphan and a soldier don’t exactly make for elegant living.

Afterwards we made it to Horgus’ manor with no further incidents. His holdings were untouched. Melody mused at first that perhaps someone was trying to frame him. However after some thought, Hiskaria and I disagreed with that assessment. Demons by nature would seek out where the most people are, the places where they could wreak the most havoc. And as we approached it was clear that his manor was devoid of life. It would seem that his men and his servants had fled their posts when the attack happened, and as a lucky result the manor had been untouched. I’ll give Horgus some credit here. While he was clearly visibly upset that the men he’d hired to protect his holdings had left their posts, he tried very hard to be reasonable that it was for the best that they’d left and protected the servants, and that it had indirectly kept the demons from destroying his things. He was however very upset that they’d taken all of the mints from the little bowl at the front entrance—as was Miss Melody, who bemoaned that it was quite rude of them. Ah what I would give to have her priorities.

Luna was shepherding the orphans—one of whom, Hamm, had taken a shine to Hiskaria’s magic and gotten it into his head that he was going to…what was it? Summon demons in his snot bubbles? Charming kid. Glad his entire world falling apart around him didn’t completely destroy his sense of innocence and wonder. Suppose he was lucky he ran into Hiskaria so the three of them didn’t get killed or worse. That’s a point in her favor.

After gathering up food from the kitchen and some entertainment for the kids from a room formerly used for the staff’s children while they were on the job, Horgus went down to the safest part of the manor: the vault. He opened the safe, which proved to have been completed untouched. Inside was more wealth than I’d probably ever seen in one place before, or ever will again. He paid Luna that looked like a rather hefty sum. Then he also paid myself, Melody, and Hiskaria 1000 gold for returning him here safely, although payment had never been promised. Hiskaria tried to argue that she’d only just joined with us, but he said that it was payment due to someone who couldn’t be here to take their cut.

Horgus…is a complicated man, I am beginning to realize. I cannot pin him down yet. Even more than most people, his words and actions do not align. And even some of his actions I think are more masks on top of that. Luna insists he’s a good man but won’t give details beyond that. She’s had a few private conversations with him, so I’m inclined to believe she knows something that’s given her that impression. And I trust Luna’s judgement in people.

As Horgus locked himself away, we heard the beginnings of him teaching the kids something or another about some…math thing. I don’t know, look, I’m not the one to look to about Abadar tax bracket stuff. Luna was just glad he was hopefully keeping Hamm from thinking about snot demons.

From there we went next door, to Nyserian Manor. Or what was left of it. Which was not much. At all. Or anything, really. See, the demons hadn’t been very discerning in their building demolition. They’d destroyed their own safehouse. Idiots. Served anyone who was inside right for betraying humanity to the demons.

Next up was Blackwing Library.

Oh Blackwing Library. This one made me angry.

If you know me you know that’s bad. Of course, you don’t know me, because you’re just a bundle of inanimate papers sandwiched in leather that I’m writing in to keep my tenuous grip on sanity together. Suffice to say: that’s bad. I don’t get angry easily. Unless you’re a Deskari worshipper or waving his symbol in my face like I’m a bull, but I mean, that’s just asking for trouble from any Iomedaen, really.

As we approached the library, it was immediately apparent that the entire thing had been decimated. Aravashnial was despondent. All of his friends and colleagues with the Riftwardens would have been there, and he feared the worst. While Melody and surprisingly Hiskaria tried to comfort him, Luna tried to sneak closer to look into the library. I stuck close to her, although not so close as to blow her cover.

What she saw was a turncoat Iomedaen with five librarians bound and gagged, and a sixth librarian being forced to pile books around them, to serve as both a book burning and a funeral pyre.

We didn’t have long to think as he pulled out the flint and tinder. Luna downed a potion of invisibility and vanished. We had to put our faith in her. And as usual, she didn’t let us down, as a moment later blood splattered across the floor and she reappeared behind the armored man with her hood up and a declaration that she was “the Butcher of Balestreet, Bitch”.

The cavalier’s two tiefling thugs tried to flank Luna, but I helped fight off one and Hiskaria finished them with a potshot from outside the door that got him right between the eyes, while Melody swooped in to take a stab at the other.

Luna clearly outmatched the man she was facing, and he was smart enough to realize it. He dropped his weapons, and offered to surrender. He swore if we let him go, he’d never do such a thing again.

The others seemed ready to let their guards down.

I didn’t buy it.

I could feel it. This was an evil man. The kind who would just turn around and do something like this again the second he had an opportunity, if we let him live.

Luna lowered her weapon to go deal with the tiefling thug. I told her what I just wrote, that if we let him go he would just harm others. She said it wasn’t going to be her choice to make.

If anyone was making this choice, it was going to be me, and me alone.

Melody tried to reason that maybe we could get some information out of him. That we could take him alive, and question him. After all, that’s what she was best at.

And then what, I asked her. What do we do with him after that? There weren’t any jails. The city was in chaos. Where do we put him when we’re done questioning him so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else?

He swore again that he’d just go away and be good. I called bullshit.

Melody said maybe he’d know more about the safehouses, or the other plans. What we’d potentially be walking into.

Fine. For the safety of the rest of the group, I’d take him alive.

So I punched the cocky bastard in the face and left him to Melody.

Hiskaria and Luna went about helping the librarians while Melody did her thing. She manacled the man and tied him up for a nice friendly chat. I stuck around. I didn’t trust this man. Kaleb, I learned his name was. Much good it did.

Melody woke him up. First thing he did was tried to play ignorant. Tried to pretend like he’d been possessed, like he hadn’t been in control of his own faculties before.

Bullshit. More lies.

Melody saw through his lies this time just as much as I had. She told him to start over and try again.

Next he tried to weave a sob story about how he’d been coerced into doing what he’d done. How he was a crusader who’s unit had been taken captive, and he’d been forced into committing evil acts out of desperation.

Again, nothing but lies. All he knew how to do was lie, habitually, spew whatever falsehood he thought would get him in our good graces.

When Melody and I called him out on it again, he snapped. In a final act of rebellious desperation, he finally told the truth. He’s nothing but scum of the earth. He was a crusader, and his unit had been wiped out, that was the one honest thing that had left this mouth. Afterwards he’d decided to hedge his bets and side with the demons, so he started committing every atrocity he could to try to win their favor. And he swore that when he died and went to the pits of the Abyss to be reborn he’d come back.

And flay us alive.

Bad choice of words.

I think the bull metaphor before was apt, because I certainly saw red for a moment. I don’t think anyone was in disagreement when I stabbed Radiance through his blackened heart at this point though.

We didn’t learn anything though. Except that he wasn’t a cultist. Just a psychopath who found an excuse to start killing people.

As we discussed our next course of action, the librarian we’d rescued approached us. He knew that Aravashnial was with the Riftwardens, and he knew what had happened to them. The Riftwardens after locking what they could in their vault had teleported to a different location, meaning Aravashnial’s friends were safely somewhere else. Unfortunately, a day later someone else arrived. Xanthir Vang. Another of Deskari’s generals. A worm that walks, a terrible creature that is both a swarm and one being bound to Deskari’s will. Xanthir cut through the floor, right above where the vault would be in the secret Riftwarden floors below, and lifted the entire vault from the floor. Then he ripped it apart like it was nothing. He seemed disappointed that the Riftwardens weren’t there—predictably, I suppose, since he had a personal grudge against them.

We found a single dead and dried up worm husk in a corner of the room. I don’t like this. It’s probably my imagination that my arm itches. Probably. Another of Deskari’s generals so close. That’s…terrifying.

With this information tucked away, we decided to head for Anevia’s home to look for clues of where Commander Tirabade may be. Mostly to make sure her wife was safe, and to inform her of everything we’d found out thus far, and a little tiny bit to ask her about that sword she’d apparently sold behind her back.

On the way, we were accosted by a skeletal demon from atop a building, who also called himself the rat king. He claimed the one we’d defeated before was a usurper, and then summoned a swarm of dire rats to attack us. We dealt with the dire rats handily enough. They took a few chomps at me, annoying little things. Between rats and lizards, do I just taste good or something?

Nope, just licked my hand to test it, I’m quite certain I do not taste good.

We arrived to a small unassuming house. Irabeth’s funds clearly went to things other than worldly possessions. Not that it was a bad house. I’m not trying to be judgmental of Irabeth Tirabade I’m just saying with her position most people would have much larger quarters, so she clearly puts hers to good use elsewhere. I’m not one to judge small living quarters, I live in the barracks. Which probably are in ruins now. Ah, well. Not like I had anything of sentimental value in there anyways. My fiddle, my sword, and my shield were on my person, those were the only things I might have cried over losing. And then my sword got forcefully replaced by a talkative holy blade anyways.

I wish I could say Radiance is growing on me like Horgus. Unfortunately, we got off an extremely wrong foot and they haven’t exactly tried to mend any bridges. Luna says I should be more assertive with them, since I’m the only one who can wield them, they need me to do their holy mission they want. And Radiance even agreed with her, because of course they did.

Figures. A guy tries to be nice to the holy sword who he’ll have to be working with for the foreseeable future and apparently even trying to just not make waves with the being you’ll have to work with talking in your head is the wrong move.

Fine…assertive. What do they want me to do, put Radiance in time out in their little box when they get uppity? That is a funny image though.

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

Right, reread a few paragraphs, Anevia’s house. So, Luna and Melody took a peek inside to make sure nothing was lurking around inside.

Predictably, something was lurking around inside.

He was invisible, but when Melody began using detect evil he ‘pinged’, so she had an idea of where the invisible presence was. The invisible presence summoned a fire beetle outside to attack Anevia, but Hiskaria turned and shot it dead before it got a chance.

Melody and Luna had a good idea where the invisible foe was, and began to force him back into a corner, although their swings of axe and glaive kept hitting nothing but air.

I came in, and I swear to you Iomedae guided Radiance’s blade. Not only did I strike true, from the amount of red that splattered across the ground, I’m certain I hit something vital. That, and I made him very angry. The next thing I saw was an enraged orc, whose invisibility faded away as a blast of fire was released from his hand point blank in my face. Too familiar. Far too familiar. And then darkness.

And then I was awake again, Melody tipping one of my potions into my mouth. Luna had bloodied the orc, but he’d refused to go down in his blind frenzy. Then Hiskaria had stepped in and finished the job.

I proceeded to heal myself a little more thoroughly while the ladies talked to Anevia about what just happened.

Huh, now that Aravashnial and Horgus are gone I am the only guy in the little group of ours, aren’t I?

The prettiest guy in our group by default as well, not that that’s saying much.

Anevia recognized the orc, he was someone who Irabeth had stopped from some previous scheme years back, who she’d left out in the world alive. Apparently, he came back for revenge. He won’t be getting a third chance.

With that settled and no more assassins lurking about, Anevia went to her and Irabeth’s bedroom and opened a secret compartment. Inside she read a note and took out some supplies. She told us that Commander Tirabade and the other remaining Crusaders were hiding out at the Defender’s Heart tavern, and the passcode to get in was “Silverstrong”.

We decided to go straight there, as it was closer than any of the safehouses, and allies were still more useful than victories at the moment.

I was especially feeling that way when that damn skeleton ‘rat king’ showed up again, and threw a flock of vultures at us. Most of which decided to descend upon me. I know vultures are a bad omen but come on, that’s too on the nose even for me. What’s worse? Do you know what’s worse? What’s even worse than vultures? Fiend vultures. These things could smite. I had, no joke, five buzzards smiting me like a bunch of feathery antipaladins.

Just my cursed luck again. Why does Desna hate me?

So, yeah. I was hurting. And really wanting some rest. While everyone else was ready and raring to go for two more safehouses after we finished meeting with the Commander. I finished healing myself again and I was almost tapped out of spells, and completely out of potions. My fervor was wearing thin as well. Luna was all well and good, she didn’t use spells. Hiskaria was fine, she mostly only used her cantrips to empower her bow to fire twice—a neat trick that didn’t really cost her anything. Melody had used one judgement and some spells but she was just fine and equally ready to go.

Ever the weak link.

Eh, no point thinking like that, right? Plenty more happened after that. We arrived to Defender’s Heart and gave them the passcode. They came out to meet us, initially excited to see Anevia.

Then they saw Luna, still with her hood up in her Butcher guise from our fight earlier.

Oops.

We tried to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like. That she wasn’t actually a murderer. That the rumors and stories and reports were wrong. Anevia tried to back us up. Luna took off her hood, and pointed out that she drank one of the two of them under the table at this very tavern just a few days prior, and no one got hurt. Despite our best efforts, tensions were raising. The guards were going for their weapons, and we were surrounded. The paladins were throwing accusations, and no one was listening to our words, they were only hearing what they believed to be true.

Then a strong hand came down on both of the guards’ shoulders. A voice spoke, and told them that maybe sometime they should try actually using the gift Iomedae grants them to detect evil.

Irabeth Tirabade stood behind the two guards, in the flesh, as…everything as I ever would have imagined. Tall, proud, honorable, noble.

The guards scrambled to cast the detect spells, and predictably found that Luna was not evil. They were puzzled but relaxed somewhat. Then jumped and went for their weapons again when they looked in Hiskaria’s direction.

The Commander told them that it was alright, and held up some papers, saying all the paperwork was in order for Hiskaria.

It looked like she was officially Raven Corps now.

Commander Tirabade picked up Anevia and carried her inside, and asked the four of us to follow. She got to quarters where she could lay Anevia down, then turned to me.

And the conversation went something like this.

“Acting Captain of the Raven Corps,” she said.

I was flabbergasted for a moment then realized she had to be talking to me because there was literally no one else she could be talking to. “Me?”

[cerinefalls]

𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐭

(𝐴 𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜 𝐾𝑎𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑘𝑖 𝑥𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

Category: Slice of life/Comedy

Here today we have UA highschool, a source of trauma for some, and a source of-

"Babies!" Ms. Joke exclaimed with a clap. "Today, hero courses from Shiketsu and UA will team up. You will each be put in pairs and assigned a baby to watch over."

Some students clapped and cheered at the announcement. Others... were not as happy. One of such students was Katsuki Bakugo, a fellow first year at UA.

You looked at him, his grumbles rather hard to ignore. He was exuding a tense feeling. A mix of fear and regret it seemed.

You couldn't stare too long, though. He'd noticed you, and of course this meant he'd have to assert himself.

"Hey, extra! Hell are you staring at?" His face appeared visibly annoyed, yet his hands were in his pockets as if this were second nature to him.

'extras'

A word he used often. This time felt more personal than all the others, though. He was singling you out from the crowd, and an unfortunate wave of attention was sent your way.

You didn't get much of a chance to reply, either. Bakugo was loud, and it seemed Aizawa wasn't up for the embarrassment from this problem child.

"You're with them, Bakugo." The tired man sighed, waving a dismissive hand at his explosive student.

Katsuki scowled, and in this situation, it's best to ignore him. Ignore him you did! Turning your attention back to Ms. Joke.

"And that's all you need to know, really!" The cheerful woman beamed. "Any questions?"

Thank the heavens Midoriya kept notes, otherwise no one wouldve asked for the recap of instructions you'd missed due to Bakugo's outburst.

"Partners will work together over the weekend and care for a robotic baby. It needs to eat, drink, be changed, paid attention to, and entertained the whole time." She explained simply. "This will take place in the UA dorms, and you'll be temporarily moved in with your partner."

Start digging now, because it seemed Aizawa had doomed you in his attempt to quiet the human grenade. Katsuki Bakugo was unwillingly your babysitting accomplice.

You turned to see how he felt about it. His face was unreadable. He wore a mild frown, evident of neutrality, but his eyebrows were raised in what looked to be either acceptance or... dread. It was genuinely hard to tell.

__________

Fast-forward to a few hours later and dorms have been set up. By some off chance, Bakugo chose to bunk with you. How fun! Except, there was a level of discomfort that came with it.

That became all the more obvious when the two of you sat in silence. Katsuki's mattress laid on the left side of the room, yours on the right. The robotic baby sat in a bassinet between the two of you, silent for the time be.

"Those bastards went all out with the preparations, didn't they." Bakugo sighed. He broke the silence with that sentence, leaving room for you to reply.

"Yeah, guess they did." You laughed awkwardly. The silence returned.

It seemed he noticed, because he sighed and stood up, walking towards you with an apathetic expression.

"Look," He began, keeping his eyes averted from you while he spoke. "I get that if we're going to practice taking care of this thing we need to get along, so..."

"Y/N." You introduced yourself. Bakugo was being nice, what a shock. Well, perhaps nice was a stretch, but he was showing a mature level of neutrality to reach a common goal. It was a pleasant change.

He began tapping his foot, pondering his next words when a loud cry erupted from the center of the room.

He jumped at the sudden noise, cursing under his breath. Bakugo attempted to play it off and turn around to look down at the bionic siren.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked, unable to see past his shoulders into the crib.

"Hell if I know-" He was going to continue that sentence, but soon you were both holding your breath. A putrid smell filled your dorm room.

"Oh no..." You'd slowly realized what'd happened. It had begun.

__________

After a long, painful journey through parenthood, the deed was done. Who knew a fake child could cause such real problems. At least you walked out unscathed. Bakugo on the other hand, was no so lucky.

"The hell did they feed that thing?" He grumbled to himself as the two of you walked to the washrooms. You kept the freshly changed baby in your arms while he went to wash his hands.

"It's not like there's real germs involved, Bakugo. Just a smell." You heard someone attempt to comfort your unhappy partner when he'd turned the corner.

"Shut up, shitty hair." So it was Kiri who'd attempted to calm him. Nice try.

Once Bakugo finished in the restroom and was no longer a danger to himself or others, you left the baby with him. It was your turn to wash up, and hopefully this time there would be no issues while you weren't paying attention.

You washed from your finger tips to your forearms meticulously. Why? Katsuki Bakugo despised filth, and he would surely know if you hadn't done as you were instructed.

It was getting late. Almost eight at night, and you just realized something. Earlier in the day, everyone was told to get ready. The washrooms were packed, and you'd had no time to shower. This would be no issue if you were teamed with anyone else, but because of who it was, you had no other choice.

"Bakugo?" You crept quietly out of the washroom, poking half of your body out just far enough for him to see you.

"What is it, Y/N?" He called back. Did he sound... sleepy? No, there was no way. No high schooler got tired at eight. Especially no UA student. The idea was too far fetched.

"Is it alright if I leave you with them a while longer? I need to shower." That came out quieter than expected. It was uncertain how Katsuki felt about children, let alone babies, so asking this was nerve wracking.

Bakugo paused, his face indifferent. It was clear he thought a while before choosing an answer to your question.

"It's fine. We're partners, so if you've got to shower... make it quick. I'm going to put this load of crap to bed." And with that, he got up and left. Bakugo headed straight for your room and shut the door behind him.

__________

'Make it quick' he said. Sadly for him, unless you consider half an hour quick, those were the directives that you didn't follow.

After drying off your body and patting through your hair, you slipped on some nightclothes and walked out of the room. The dormitory was pitch black when you came out. Everyone had a baby to put to bed, after all.

Slowly approaching and entering your room, you were shocked to see it was dark and quiet. Silent even, all aside from the snore of your partner. You giggled. They weren't joking when they said Bakugo went to bed at eight thirty.

The creak of the door as you pushed it further open seemed to wake him, though. He yawned and sat up, holding a finger to his lips. Why? In his other arm was the baby, it's bionic brain fast asleep. You tip toed closer to inspect the scene.

"The asshole wouldn't fall asleep until I laid it with me." Bakugo groggily complained, sitting up slowly as to not wake the uncomfortably realistic techno brat.

"Ah... should I take it so you can rest, then?" You asked a genuine question, but the face your co-parent made indicated he'd taken it as a challenge.

Of course. Katsuki 'don't underestimate me' Bakugo was angry with you for questioning whether he could do it or not. At least he had the head on his shoulders tight enough to remember he shouldn't scream at you. If he did, it'd be trouble for everyone on your floor.

"Since you don't think I can do it, you come join me. Watch this thing while I sleep." He retorted in a shockingly calm tone.

"What? With you? Why would I do that when they put your bed in here so we could have space?" You replied, a bit taken aback.

"So you can see I can do it with or without you. Can't move the damn thing, anyway." Bakugo groaned. He was clearly tired. Cranky may even be the word to describe him.

You shook your head, heading towards your own side of the room. You didn't get very far, though.

"Hey, that's not fair." The tired blonde hothead was clearly upset now, but for what reason was still a mystery. "If I've got to sleep with this thing and you're still gonna doubt me, you have to stay with me." Of course.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, lost for words. His logic made sense, but you weren't sure on whether it was a good idea. In theory, it was the perfect chance for him to prove himself, and for you two to act as a real couple would when caring for a child. On the other hand, this was meant to reflect hero work. Not a family scenario, but one where a child was being babysat. It was a hard call.

Bakugo could sense you were unsure about it, and questioned why in his head. After he finished thinking it through, it made sense to him why you'd hesitate. He turned over and laid back down. "Forget I said anything."

His words snapped you from thinking, and you felt as though he may have gotten the wrong idea. "Wait. I'll do it to watch them while you rest." It was past his bedtime after all, and if you admitted to doing it for his pride he would've chewed you out.

You dragged a blanket from your bed to his, laying on the other side of the baby. Soon enough, you heard Bakugo snoring again, and you were the only one awake in your dorm. Quiet and peaceful, as it should be.

You watched the baby as you said you would. It was merely eight forty five, and had you gone to sleep, the baby could've easily woken up moments later. You wanted to keep your word to him, so you stayed awake and watched over the baby.

Crickets and wind, a calm mix of sound flood in through the window. A sleepy combination of whistles and cool air. Your comforter sat over you heavily, warm and snug. That means when you felt something reach over and hug you, it startled you a bit due to the unexpectedness.

You remained calm. Waking the baby would be an awful mistake. This was confusing, though. When you checked, Bakugo was still fast asleep. This was an unconscious action.

Consciousness aside, it was cute. Did Katsuki sleep with stuffed animals? It would explain why he'd hugged you in his sleep. Regardless of the reason, this comfortable position lead to you dozing off. Sooner or later, silence was spread across all of the UA dorms. The babies had really tired out these young heroes. Perhaps tomorrow would be more peaceful.

____________________

A/N:

Hiya! Thank you for reading. If you don't mind, could you leave some feedback for me? I'd love to know what you thought.

[chillyminmin]

han jisung – don’t forget

» han jisung x reader

» words: 4.6k

» You had a little project, but things got messy. Jisung wasn’t who he seemed, but things went a little better than he first planned.

Hot coffee, loud street, busy passersby, your typical morning.

You sighed as you set your coffee down, watching the street behind your sunglasses, hoping that the boy you were assigned to was someone decent for once. The boys assigned under your care were either too weak, too arrogant, too scared, or too laid back.

If Father gives me another boy who came from an orphaned family, I’m giving him back, you thought. Those never make the cut.

You were the daughter of a man of many influences, legally and illegally. He owned many buildings in Seoul, as well as various properties in the different areas of South Korea. He also dealt with gun dealerships, smuggling and drugs; your father was a businessman and the boss of a very powerful mafia group. You were going to inherit his position in two years, but you’ve been doing jobs like this since you turned fifteen. You were turning nineteen in two weeks, so you’ve been on this job for almost four years.

Finally, a black Hyundai Santa Fe SUV pulled up by the coffee shop, and two men wearing suits got off. In the middle was another guy, you guessed he wasn’t that far off from your age, and from how he was dressed, you guessed your wishes were answered. The SUV drove off and the three men approached your table. The two in suits told the guy to sit with you while they sat at the table close to yours, not ordering anything.

As he sat down, you noticed that he was playing with the hem of his shirt then he seemed to pull his bomber jacket closer to him. He’s nervous, you thought. At least he has manners.

“Want anything?” You asked casually. “Coffee, frappe, tea?”

“N-no.” He stammered and he seemed to curse at himself before clearing his throat. “That’s okay. Thank you.”

You smiled a bit before nodding. “Let’s get straight to the point then. What did my Father tell you?”

“Mr. L/N said that I was supposed to be your little… project?” He answered.

This amused you, he seemed confused as to why he’d be called a ‘project’.

“Did he say anything else?” You pressed.

“Yes. He said that what I learn from you and how I deal with you and everyone else will determine whether I make the cut or not.”

You nodded again and took a sip of your coffee, which was now almost finished.

“Where are my manners,” you shook your head, “I’m sure you know my name.” He nodded. “What’s yours?”

His eyes widened before he abruptly stood up, alerting the two guards. “I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Jisung, Han Jisung.” He bowed and the two guards settled.

You suppressed a laugh. It was obvious he had heard about you, your behavior, your attitude. It was radiating off him as it did when they all first meet you: fear.

“Jisung.” You repeated. “Please, sit down.” He did so. “Now, do you know what it means to make the cut or not?”

Jisung shook his head. “I wasn’t allowed to ask your Father questions.”

Of course, no one is.

“Well, Jisung.” You raised your sunglasses and rest them on the top of your head. He seemed stunned to see your eyes. “It basically means; at the end of the two weeks you spend with me, whatever you learn will either help you live or kill you.”

Two days in, you had learned that Jisung may be older than you, but he was still a child.

He had broken five glasses, tripped himself over the stairs thrice, was chased around by your dog, locked himself out in the balcony, and he had no expertise on anything whatsoever.

He was fumbling with his thumbs as you stared at him. You were at your apartment, where all the accidents had happened, in the living room, the both of you sitting down on chairs. Your dog, a Border Collie, laid down by your feet, his eyes trained on Jisung.

“Jisung,” you deadpanned, “are you telling me that you don’t know how to do anything? Anything at all?” He nodded. “How could you not know how to do anything, yet capture the attention of my Father? Every guy he’s sent to me was able to do something. One could hack, another had contacts for drugs, another was an expert in gun dealership- the list goes on, but I’m sure you understand what I’m saying. Or do I have to explain that for you as well?”

Jisung kept his head down, but he shook it, saying no, he understood completely what you were trying to say.

“I’m sorry, Miss y/n.”

“Sorry isn’t going to save your life. I’m telling you. I’ve been there.”

You thought back to the time where your mom had threatened to take you away from your Father, and he didn’t like it. She threatened to turn him in, to expose the family’s dirty business, even if it meant bringing me and her down with him. She’d do anything to remove me from my Father’s influence. When she realized her mistake, she was framed by a former colleague, begging my Father for help, apologizing for what she had said and done. My Father ignored her, and when she tried to run, she was shot down by the police.

That night, my Father told me, “That’s the price for turning your back on your family. Remember that.”

“I can learn.” For the first time today, Jisung looked at you. “I’m a fast learner. I may not be an expert on things, but I learn quickly.”

“Two weeks, Jisung. Weeks. What could you possibly learn in two weeks?”

“What position is open? Who do you need me to be?”

You tilted your head in amusement. This was new. “Who do I need you to be? What do you mean by that?”

“I- I know that there are times where you need to corner someone. But I overheard that whoever you had he was compromised. You’re trying to get him back, but you’re not sure if you can.” Your eyes narrowed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I didn’t!”

“Well, that’s one thing you’re good at,” you grumbled. “You can eavesdrop quite well.”

“I can take his place. Try to, anyway.” You raised your eyebrows and laughed a bit. Jisung looked at you anxiously, like he’d pulled a trap. “Miss y/n?”

“Do you even know what his job was? Do you know how he cornered people?” He shook his head. “Jisung. You have the age for the job, but I’m not sure if you have the guts. If Father’s target has a daughter, that’s how he corners them.” He still seemed confused.

“What do you mean…?”

“Jisung, if you take on that job, you’d have to learn how to fuck someone and not fall in love.”

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

You and Jisung were at the mall, a week into his training. Not only did he have to ‘learn how to fuck someone and not fall in love’, but he also had to learn his way with guns and knives. He had to learn how to be a little sneaky, fuckboy assassin.

You were shopping for his suits and clothes you wanted, some accessories too.

“Miss-“ Jisung caught himself, “y/n. Why do we need this much? Aren’t the suits enough?”

“The suits are for when you meet Father. Casual clothing for pretty much everything else that’s not so formal.” You answered, still looking at the watches.

You shook your head and spun to tell Jisung that you’d now go to Pandora, but you stopped yourself as you noticed that he was looking at a watch. You followed your gaze and saw what he was looking at.

It was a gold watch, the inside was black with three smaller clocks, one on each side and the third at the bottom. You hummed to yourself before looking at Jisung again then pretending like you didn’t notice.

“Follow me, let’s go.”

When you finished shopping, you went to the parking lot and placed everything in the trunk, making sure not to crumple anything, both your bags and his. Every time Jisung was about to go in your car, you noticed that he treated it as the most vulnerable thing you owned. Maybe it wasn’t the most vulnerable thing you owned, but it was your most cherished.

It was a black Maserati Quattroporte GTS. Your Father gave it to you for your eighteenth birthday, and he rarely gave anyone gifts, business partners and family members alike. He gave you this specifically because he was sure that he wasn’t the only one with the mindset of using daughters to get to his target clients or enemies. The car was beautiful, sleek and fast. It could go on 530 horsepower and 310 kilometers per hour. You loved it.

As you were pulling out of the parking lot, you noticed Jisung was nervous. Now you knew he was nervous whenever you were the one driving, but he seemed more nervous.

“Jisung, what is it?” He shook his head vigorously. “Jisung.”

“I might be paranoid or- I don’t know, I might be wrong, Miss.” He said quickly, not looking at me, but focusing on the side mirror.

“What, Jisung? Just tell me.”

“They’re after me.” He said, looking at me. I briefly glanced at him and saw that his eyes were full of fear. “They’ve found me.”

“Who’s found you?”

“The Nakamuras. They’ve finally pinpointed me.”

“Naka-“ you pulled over to the side and parked your car, signaling the hazard lights. “Jisung, the Nakamuras?”

You looked at him and he looked at you with fear. “I’m sorry. I tried my best to avoid them, I tried to lead them away, but they—”

“Lead them away? Away from what?” You noticed that a white car had parked behind your car, its hazard lights blinking as well.

“Not what, Miss. Away from you.” He looked down. “They want you.”

“Jisung.” You were becoming angry, your voice was trembling as it rose. “Did you betray us before we’ve even decided if you made the cut or not?”

He didn’t answer.

“Jisung!”

“I’m sorry!” He looked at you again, and suddenly he seemed different. His eyes were darker, his jawline seemed sharper, he wasn’t fumbling with his hands, and his posture was straighter. Like someone had injected him with confidence. “I’ll explain later, but if you want to save yourself, drive.”

You shook your head. “You asshole.” But you drove and called security, telling them you were heading to your apartment. That’s when you noticed that the white car was following you. You told security to hurry up or else they wouldn’t see the light of day.

“Jisung, what the fuck were you- who are you?”

“I was surprised you didn’t realize immediately.” He answered with a chuckle. “Han Jisung, y/n. How could you have been so blind?”

“Han.” You muttered it to yourself like a chant. It sounded familiar, but you weren’t sure.

“Both you and your Father must have forgotten. But then again, it was easy to kill my parents, wasn’t it? Not even knowing they had a son. Your Father probably thought I was a different Han, not the child of the ones he killed to be where he stands now.”

Suddenly, you remembered. “You. It was you.”

You remembered being with your Father that night, three nights before he finally claimed what he called his rightful place. You were having dinner with the Hans, and you couldn’t be left behind because at that time, your mom was still alive, and your Father knew she’d do anything to get you. It was a good dinner, but when it came down to talking about handing positions, it got heated.

Mr. Han didn’t want to give over his position as the CEO, saying that your Father was corrupted and that it wouldn’t do good to anybody. Mr. Han threatened your family, saying that he knew about our ‘side business’ and that soon, the most wanted mafia boss would be caught by the police. If there was anything that threw your Father off, it was threatening the business. Not his family, his business.

Your Father didn’t hesitate to stand, draw his gun, and pull his trigger twice. The nozzle had a muffler on it, so no one outside the house would’ve heard the gunshots, but you covered your ears and dropped down to the floor. Even at that age, the age of ten, you knew where that dinner was going, how that conversation was going to end.

Before you left, your Father to told you to look at the scene so that you knew what to do if anyone ever turned their backs on you, and if anyone ever threatened the business. You stood there, numb and confused, was killing the answer to everything? You probably wouldn’t have moved if it wasn’t for a boy’s voice.

“Mom! Dad!” A figure brushed against you and went straight to the two dead bodies by the dinner table. He shook them hopelessly, crying and screaming their names.

He looked at you. “You did this? You killed my parents?” You were dazed, even as he approached you, you didn’t move back. “How could you? There’s no way you could be older than nine!” He gripped your shoulders. “Who did this? Tell me!”

You shook your head.

“Tell me!” He demanded. You refused. He pushed you away. “Don’t forget this day. Don’t think I don’t know who you are. I know my parents were going to have dinner with Mr. L/N tonight, that’s why they didn’t want me at home.” He glared at you. “I’ll get back at you one day, y/n. Don’t forget.”

“What are you waiting for?” You slurred. “Why don’t you just kill me now?”

“y/n.”

“No, Jisung. Tell me,” you laughed, “why won’t you get back at me already?”

“You’re not in the right mind, y/n. You’re drunk and high.”

“Your point?” You looked at him and squinted, trying to focus on him, but you decided not to anymore and laughed before averting your gaze to another joint.

As you reached for it, Jisung took it away from you. You pouted as you looked at him taking a hit.

“That’s mine.”

“y/n-“

“Stop taking what’s mine!”

He sighed as he put the joint aside and knelt in front of you. For a moment, you realized how handsome he really was. You remembered how he smiled, how he laughed a bit, how he helped you in your apartment, how nervous he seemed around guns and knives, but he had one on him now, he always had one, it was a rule.

Your eyes widened. He has a knife. You tried to scramble away from him but he held your waist.

“N-no, let me go!” You squirmed. “You have a knife, let me go!”

“y/n,” he said sadly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why not, huh? My Father killed your parents! Why not kill me for revenge? Why not just sell me out to the Nakamuras? Why tell me? Why save me? Why, why, why?” You were screaming at his face now, frightened but angry, disappointed but not surprised.

You knew it wasn’t going to take long until one of your dad’s enemies used your little ‘project’ thing as a way to slip a spy in. Everyone who applied to you knew how your business worked, inside and out, that’s why if they didn’t make the cut, they died.

“Because your Father killed them, not you.” Jisung replied calmly. “It took me some time to accept that. I knew the fastest way to take revenge on him was to kill his only child, that’s why I feigned stupidity. To get closer to you. But as I got to know you, I realized, you had nothing to do with their deaths.” Jisung’s eyes were tearing up. “You were just there when he killed them, he made you stay there. He made you look at their deaths.” He started crying.

You lowered your hands, his hands still on your waist. “Jisung…”

“I wanted to kill you, I did. But I can’t bring myself to.” He sniffled and rested his head on your legs, you could feel his tears wetting your thighs. “You have no fault. And I can see this isn’t the life you want.”

You stiffened. Maybe it was because his warm breath was hitting your skin and you were drunk and high, or maybe because he was right: this isn’t the life you wanted.

You used your hands to lift up his head and wiped his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jisung. I know how it feels like to lose one parent, I can’t imagine how it feels like to lose both in one night.”

He smiled sadly and held one of your hands.

“You know, you’re not as bad as they say. You have a heart.” He said softly and you felt yourself tearing up. “They don’t see you like I do, why is that?”

“Maybe because,” you hesitated. Were you really ready to admit these to both yourself and him? Were you ready to admit how something about him made you feel close to him, how you felt safe to seem somehow vulnerable to him?

“y/n, tell me.” He said softly as he wiped your cheek. You didn’t even notice that you had started crying.

“Maybe because I let you in my heart without even knowing it.” You admitted. “You saw me smile, you made me laugh, I wanted you to be close to me wherever I was. I never took anyone else shopping with me, you know.” He chuckled. “There’s something about you, Jisung. Something I’m afraid of, and it’s not the knife.”

“Don’t be,” he said as he moved his face closer to you, “let me in, y/n. Don’t be afraid of me, don’t be afraid of my heart.”

“Jisung…”

“I won’t turn you over to the Nakamutas. I won’t kill you. I’ll come up with a way to get revenge on your Father, that is if you don’t rat out on me and get me killed.”

You laughed softly. You knew you couldn’t turn him in. Without knowing, you had fallen in love with him.

“I won’t.” You promised. “I won’t turn you in.”

“So, you’ll let me in?”

“I’ll let you in.” You said softly and that was all he needed to hear before kissing you.

The two weeks were over, you and Jisung may have fucked every now and then, and you kept your promise as he kept his. The revenge he decided to take was taking the risk of falling in love with you and seeing if he made the cut. If he did, then he’ll work his way up from there.

You knew his plan. He knew you were inheriting your Father’s place, both as Boss and CEO, in two years. But that was something you’d worry about some other time, now it was time to see Jisung’s abilities. And your Father couldn’t have been crueler.

He made Jisung’s deliberation day your birthday.

And if there’s another thing you knew about your Father, he never missed a thing that was happening.

You were seated at the far end of the table with all the other important people of the mafia. Your dad was in the center and at each side, there was the head of Security, Kim, then there was the head of weapon dealerships, Khon, followed by the head of drug dealings, Im, and lastly, the head of smuggling, Lee.

At first, the deliberation was going smoothly, and it seemed as if Jisung was safe. His performance in the past week was incredible. He was an expert in shooting, he could throw knives from a couple of feet away and hit the target right in the chest, he knew how to smuggle items from Father’s corporation to another, and he knew who to target to deal drugs.

But your Father had to pull one last question.

“Jisung,” he started, “it has also come to my attention that aside from all the training you receive and lessons my daughter has given you, it seems that you’ve given her your heart as well.”

Your eyes widened, but you tried to stay calm. There was one rule between you and your clients: no strings attached.

“Is this true?”

“No, sir.” Jisung answered, not missing a single beat. He looked at you. “I don’t love your daughter. I only used her body.”

“And why is that?”

“She was vulnerable, sir. Let her guard down.” He was stabbing you in the heart. “She means nothing to me.”

Your Father stood up and went towards you. You didn’t look at him, you were too busy trying to read what Jisung was trying to do, see if he meant anything he said, you hoped he didn’t.

“Then, you won’t mind if I do this.”

Before you knew it, your Father, your own Father, had a gun pointed at your head.

“F-Father!” You spun your head and met his gaze. No fear, no warmth, no regret- your Father didn’t seem human at all. “What are you-“

“What did I say about vulnerability? It gets you killed.” He cocked the gun and looked behind you, at Jisung. “You haven’t said anything. This is your final test. Do you mind if I killed my own daughter?”

Your heart broke as Jisung answered, “No, sir.”

“Then you have failed.” Your Father aimed at Jisung, and without thinking, you reached for your knife and stabbed your Father in the chest. His eyes widened. “y/n-“

“It was something I should’ve done long ago, Father. You killed mom, you killed his parents, you kill anyone and everyone. You care for no one.”

“I care about you!”

“You only care for me because I’m your only child. If I had a brother, you would’ve had him inherit this company and this group. Do you not know what people say behind your backs? How they plan to kill you? The very men you made as your heads-“

“Miss y/n!”

“Sir, she’s lying!”

“I’m only doing them a favor.” You finished. “I’m doing myself a favor.”

You were at the ground now, your Father slowly dying. “I can still pull the trigger.” He threatened.

“Jisung’s smarter than to stay where he was.”

That night, your Father’s death was mourned by the country, as if a King had died. You rolled your eyes as you shut the television off.

“They don’t even know him. If they did, they would’ve celebrated his death, not mourned it.”

Jisung sat beside you and hugged you. “You say that, but I know it hurts.”

It was true. “Stop reading me.”

Jisung chuckled and pulled away to kiss your forehead. “You were brave. I didn’t think the meeting was going to go that way.”

“Neither did I.”

“But you’re okay now. Tomorrow, you’ll face the press claiming your spot as CEO.” You nodded. “But tonight, you’re mine.”

Jisung kissed you and you let out a surprised sound before kissing him back. You both smiled in the kiss before it got heated. His hand went from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. You parted your lips and he slipped his tongue in. You straddled him and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His other hand went under your shirt and drew small circles at your waist as his lips went down to your neck.

You sighed softly as he nipped and licked your neck, sure to leave marks. He then slowly took you off his lap as he made his way down, taking your shirt off in the process. He kissed your chest as he worked on your bra buckle and took them off. He licked your nipples and you tugged at his hair as he laid you down on the bed and made his way down to your stomach, peppering it with soft kisses.

He made it to your shorts, and he took them off before going back to your lips and kissing you harder, deeper, more passionate than he ever did. One hand supported him as he hovered over you, while the other made its way down to your panties. He stroked your clit from the outside, making you wet little by little. You squirmed under his touch and he chuckled, going back to your neck and focusing on the areas he hadn’t marked yet.

“Jisung,” you breathed out.

He hummed against your skin as he made his way down once more, this time reaching your panties. He slid them off and kissed your thighs.

“You’re wet, baby.” He said proudly. “Who made you wet?”

“You did, Ji, you did.”

He licked your clit and you gasped at the sudden sensation. He then started to eat you out, hands holding onto your thighs. He moaned and pulled away briefly to say, “You taste good, baby. So good.” He then continued to eat you out. You moaned and gripped the sheets as his tongue darted in and out of you at a pace you didn’t think was possible. Just when you thought you were going to cum, he pulled away and you whined.

Jisung chuckled. “I want you to cum from my cock, baby, not my tongue.” He took his clothes off and you watched him the whole time, your heart hammering against your chest.

Sure, you two have fucked, but this time, it felt different.

“I love you.” You blurted out. Jisung stared at you and you blushed. “F-forget I said that-“

“I love you, too.” Jisung cut you off as he went back down and kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

He looked into your eyes for permission, and you nodded. Not long after, he entered you and groaned as you moaned.

“How are you still so tight? I fuck you every day.”

“Maybe- ah- maybe you just get bigger every time you fuck me.”

That seemed to turn him on. “Fuck, y/n.”

He started slowly, looking at you as you squirmed and moaned under him. He loved it, he loved the way you looked. He loved how he was the only boy who could see you like this. How he was the only one who could make you moan and scream his name.

“Faster, Ji. I want more.” You breathed out.

“Okay, baby.” He followed, quickening his thrusts, hitting the spot every time. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You couldn’t make words out as his cock filled you up, going in and out of you at a fast pace. You moaned as he made it even faster, praising you and telling you how good you were, how good you felt. He was as close as he could possibly be, skin on skin, your moans filling up the room, heat rising.

The heat at the bottom of your stomach pooled up and you scratched Jisung’s back, sure to leave marks on him the way your neck had marks from his kisses.

“Jisung, I-I’m close.” You managed to breathe out between moans.

“Me too, baby.” He pulled away from your body as to not hurt you as he went as fast he could, chasing both yours and his climax.

His groans grew louder as your moans did. He moaned your name as he came, his cock twitching inside you as you came as well, almost screaming his name.

You were both a panting mess as he pulled out and laid down beside you. After some time, he peppered your face with soft kisses, and you giggled a bit. He smiled and brushed his thumb against your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, “don’t forget.”

---

chan woojin minho changbin hyunjin felix seungmin

[pidayforpi]

“Little Joy”

(Some, uh, Fethsteel (and a bit Magicstone)...for your enjoyment...)

(Can be read as friendship or more. Whatever suits you, buddy.)

(Actually, this applies to all my other works involving any appropriate relationship, e.g. Alistarling, Baffy...)

(Also...Perhaps extremely out-of-character...I have never worked with these characters...(except Fethry, who...may also be OOC)) 

———————————————————————

“T-thank you s-so much for t-tagging along...”

Fethry said to the hulking rooster walking next to him. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away from his companion.

“I-it m-must be so embarrassing f-for you to be d-doing such c-childish activity...”

Steelbeak smiled at the shorter duck, patting him on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I enjoyed it.”

——————————————————————

On a spring morning, Fethry Duck and Steelbeak went to the beaches of Duckburg for clam digging.

As early as two weeks ago, Fethry had asked Steelbeak out for harvesting clams together. It was an annual event for Fethry, but a fresh new one for Steelbeak. After all, why would a F.O.W.L. agent have the time (and passion) to do such harmless stuff?

Two weeks ago, Fethry was anxiously on his phone, constantly looking back to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Countless thoughts invaded his mind while the phone beeped: Will he be busy? Does he work on Saturdays? Will he be...planning to attack his family on that day?

When his new friend picked up the call, Fethry told him his proposal, asking him whether he would be free for a clam digging day (with heavy, heavy stuttering, of course). Fethry’s ears were too red to clearly hear if the recipient agreed to hang out. He didn’t even know if his friend could hear what the event was about, given his serious stutters. It wasn’t until the rooster showed up at the shores of Duckburg that Fethry knew his friends really did listen to and accept his invitation.

For the first time in a decade, Fethry had someone to accompany him on his silly little annual activity.

And so, two adults spent a Saturday  morning on the muddy ground, along with many families around them. The beach was filled with the laughter of children, while the duo silently collected one clam after another.

But for Fethry, his heart was bumping loudly. Every time he heard children laughing, or saw children running across the beach barefoot, Fethry felt a bit more regretful, blaming himself for inviting Steelbeak to this idiotic event. He was a secret agent of F.O.W.L.! Feared, cruel, malevolent! How much pride did Steelbeak swallow for his friend? How much of his image did he risk being tainted by accepting his friend’s request?

Not to mention the tired expression clearly visible in Steelbeak’s eyes. He must be a night person. It wasn’t a surprise. He was the one to act in the shadows, after all. But Fethry further chastised himself for being inconsiderate.

Although Steelbeak was wearing a smile with his shovel in hand, Fethry couldn’t help but feel deeply guilty.

——————————————————————

An hour later, the duo left the beaches with a small net of clams. The shells clanked against each other, producing clicking sounds in addition to the two pairs of footsteps.

Although both of them weren’t the talkative type, Fethry felt rather nervous for the lack of conversations in the morning. He rubbed the locks of hair sticking out of his stocking cap with his right thumb and index finger, while holding the bag of clams close to his body with his other hand. He took a peek at his partner: Steelbeak wasn’t frowning or sulking, but Fethry still felt uncomfortable in his heart. Was he embarrassed? Was he mad? Fethry looked down at the pebbled plaza floor, biting his lower lips.

Then he suddenly stopped.

Steelbeak quickly noticed his friend staying behind, and turned around to see what’s wrong. Fethry held his head down, eyes darting everywhere but Steelbeak’s line of vision.

Before Steelbeak could ask, Fethry had mumbled his concerns.

“I...I am so sorry, Steely...” Fethry muttered, just loud enough for Steelbeak to hear.

“W-what’s wrong?” Steelbeak was surprised by his friend’s sudden apology. He had no much social experience than Fethry had. Was it something he had done wrong?

“I was so s-selfish...I j-just wanted someone to accompany m-me for once, b-but I only thought for m-myself...You d-don’t like c-clam digging at all, d-do you? You h-hadn’t t-tried i-it because you d-don’t like it...” Fethry started to whimper, holding the clams even closer to himself.

“I humiliated you...Embarrassed you...J-just because I w-wanted s-someone to accompany me...You don’t even have your disguise on!”

It was true. Steelbeak right now was only wearing a t-shirt with a nylon jacket for torso, a pair of sports trousers and sports shoes for legs and feet. His face was entirely exposed, including his abnormal metal beak.

This was the first time the secret agent hanged out with his friend without wearing incognito. And it was Fethry who encouraged him to do so. Despite knowing his position, Fethry believed one should feel no shame for being in the public. But for Steelbeak to go undisguised holding a colourful shovel, searching for clams with a bunch of kids around? Fethry suddenly felt how hard it had to be for Steelbeak to comply.

Although he was supposed to be a “secret” agent, meaning no one should know he was a member of a criminal mastermind organisation, nobody knew for sure whether anyone would recognise Steelbeak. At the very least, his beak would arouse a certain level of suspicion.

“I am so sorry...I am so sorry...” Fethry did his best to hold back tears, despite feeling extremely regretful for hurting his new friend. Who accepted his invitation. An invitation not even his dear cousin Donald would accept.

Steelbeak got down to Fethry’s level with a warm smile. “I enjoyed it. Really.”

Fethry blinked a few times, before slowly raising his head to look at the smiling rooster.

“I hadn’t tried anything like that, but it was fun. Let’s do it again sometimes,  okay?”

“You...don’t think it was...silly...?” Fethry looked at the should-be menacing rooster, doubting the agent collecting intel in an enemy base would be down to collecting clams on a beach.

“It was silly, but I like it. Feth, you know...Ever since I got...this job, I hadn’t taken up any hobby. I hadn’t had any fun. Until I met you, and you introduced me to so many activities.”

It was Steelbeak’s turn to look away, while Fethry tilted his head curiously.

“I...uh...had a lot of fun...Thanks, Feth...”

Though a bit awkward, Fethry still felt his heart soothed by Steelbeak’s words of gratitude. Steelbeak must be the type who seldom show much emotions to others. He probably hadn’t thanked anyone before meeting Fethry, whether he felt grateful or not.

“Besides...” Steelbeak attempted to pull off his suave, yet intimidating persona. “You promised me a clam chowder meal, didn’t you? Hm?” But to put up this obviously fake facade in front of his genuine friend, even the rooster laughed at himself.

Fethry regained his smile, nodding his head cheerfully. “O-of course, Steely!”

Then his heart again bumped faster when he thought of another concern.

“I am g-glad you are having f-fun too, b-but...w-what if p-people find out about y-you? W-would I be...affecting your...c-career...?” His eyes looked up at the tall rooster,  fingers fidgeting together shyly.

Steelbeak let out a chuckle, whispering to his friend. “Don’t worry, Feth. I am a ‘secret’ agent, remember? No one knows who I am! And...”

Steelbeak paused for a while, trying to phase his words without offending his friend. Fethry seemed to guess what Steelbeak was implying, and showed that he was listening with a smile.

“You...uh, aren’t a prominent member of the McDuck family, are you? I mean...not many people know you are the nephew of Scrooge, right? Unlike that ‘Donald’ guy, or the kids...”

“I...I mean it in a good way! So there won’t be any trouble for you too! My colleagues may not be so happy with me befriending a McDuck relative...” Steelbeak rubbed his shoulder nervously, thinking how their relationship may hurt not only himself, but also Fethry.

“It’s alright.” Fethry reassured Steelbeak. “You are right. Nobody knows me. Nobody knows you. So we will be safe!”

——————————————————————

Of course, except his own family...

A startled honk suddenly emerged nearby in the plaza. The goose (or gander, to be exact) realised his mistake, and unwisely covered his beak, only for the action to produce another slapping sound, gaining more attention.

On the other hand, Fethry made another mistake looking at the source of the sound. When he realised he knew the person in question, he made yet another bad decision to call out his name, only to cover his beak too when he remembered he should not be with the person he was with in the first place.

And now, the two cousins looked at each other awkwardly, both wide-eyed and covering their mouths.

After a five-second awkward silence, Gladstone tried to break the ice with a wave and a sheepish smile.

“Heeeeey, Fethry...Good to see you...Hanging out with a friend...?” Gladstone tried to appear casual, but his rigid expression showed how uncomfortable he was.

Fethry replied with an even more nervous grin, and many rapid nods.

Gladstone continued, hoping to end the encounter as soon as possible. “Oh, great! And you are...?” Signalling Steelbeak. Of course Gladstone knew who he was. The goose was just giving the rooster criminal a chance to lie about his own identity, so as to let the matter slide. He believed the agent would be smart enough to know the cue. He’s the top agent in his association! Sure he knew how to deal with his cover being blown...

Oh, but Gladstone really should had looked at how red the face of the rooster was before trying...

Steelbeak lifted Fethry off the ground with his left hand, pinning him against his own body like a head-lock, while childishly pointing a finger gun at Fethry’s head with his right hand. Fethry yelped in surprise, but took extra care not to drop the bag of clams.

“D—d-d-don’t c-c-come c-c-closer, or...this innocent man g-g-gets it!” Steelbeak attempted to threaten Gladstone into leaving them alone, only to make the situation more and more awkward. The confused Gladstone looked as Steelbeak’s face got redder and redder, while Fethry’s cheeks also started to blush with embarrassment.

“S-S-Steely...P-p-please p-put me d-d-down...T-this is v-v-very embarrassing...” Fethry muttered softly. He knew his friend was doing an act to “help” them out of the problem, but he was too embarrassed to comply.

Steelbeak immediately let go of Fethry, afraid that he might hurt the fragile duck. Hopefully not many people were in the plaza. Only the goose in green witnessed the “kidnap attempt” with a puzzled smile.

Gladstone sighed, seeing how his cue had totally been missed. “Okay, Steelbeak. I won’t tell F.O.W.L. about this. Okay, Fethry. I won’t tell Uncle Scrooge about this. Just pretend nothing happened, m’kay?”

Both the rooster and the duck nodded without making eye contact, their faces still red.

Gladstone took a deep breath. “But what are you two doing together? Don’t tell me you are teaching lil’ Fethry bad things, hm?” He stared with only one eye opened, pointing a finger at Steelbeak, who shook his head and held his hands up in denial.

Fethry quickly explained. “N-n-no! I-I p-proposed the a-activity! Steely...uh, S-Steelbeak was just accompanying me...”

Fethry showed his cousin the clams they had collected. “L-look! We went clam digging!”

“I w-will be u-using these to make c-clam chowder...Y-you can j-join us too! Just p-please...D-don’t tell U-Uncle S-S-Scrooge about this...? He will...He will...”

Fethry was visibly trembling. Gladstone didn’t blame him. Scrooge could be very scary when furious. He put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, showing a kind smile. “I promise, Fethry. I promise.”

“You take care of him, okay?” Gladstone turned to Steelbeak. Despite Gladstone being much shorter than he was, Steelbeak gulped at the fierceness in his eyes.

“Gladstone, I’m an adult now!” Fethry protested against his elder cousin for being treated like a child.

“Well, you don’t act like one.”

Steelbeak cut in during the cousins’ bickering. “Don’t worry, Mister...”

Gladstone politely tipped his hat. “Gander. Glad-“

“Yo, Gladdy! I brought popsicles!”

Just when the goose was introducing himself, someone called his (nick)name from behind. Just from the voice, Fethry and Steelbeak knew who she was, but not why she was calling Gladstone.

This time, Gladstone hid his reddened face behind his hat.

At least, both parties were equal now.

Magica looked at her friend with his cousin and her partner-in-crime (sort of) in confusion, but quickly shrugged it off.

“Hey, boys. What’s up?” Magica greeted the two with a grin, while the two replied by signalling Gladstone with eye movements.

Gladstone’s face was entirely inside his hat, the brim of which he grabbed tightly with both hands.

“Hello...?” Magica stared at her partner curiously, waving her free hand in front of his face.

“What happened?” She questioned the other two birds present, who answered with two shrugs.

Magica let out a sigh, before biting at her popsicle. “Well, eating or not, you are paying for yours.”

Gladstone slowly reached for his, holding it in his shaking hand. He put his hat back on, before slowly approaching Fethry with his head down.

“We’ll never speak of this day ever again...”

——————————————————————

“Wow! Fethry, that’s delicious!” Magica exclaimed at a dining table.

Fethry blushed slightly at the compliment. “T-t-thank you, Miss De Spell...”

“Just Magica will do.”

Inside a golden yacht, two white ducks, a rooster and a goose were at the dining table. Everyone had a bowl and a spoon, while a big pot of clam chowder was in the centre of the table.

“Told you Feth cooks nicely!” Steelbeak added with a smile, making Fethry chuckled shyly.

“A-all thanks to Gladstone lending us his yacht...” Fethry beamed at his cousin, who was drinking his soup silently.

“You...you’re welcome.” Gladstone uttered, before feeling someone nudging his arm lightly.

“See? Nothing wrong with hanging out! Your cousin is friends with a F.O.W.L. agent! You are just friends with a witch.” Magica shoved Gladstone with her elbow playfully. “Let’s hang out sometimes!”

“S-sure!” “Fine by me.” “Of...of course. Just...”

Gladstone looked at his cousin meekly.

“Please don’t tell Uncle Scrooge about this...? He will pluck my feathers out...”

Fethry replied with a wide, cheerful smile.

“I promise, Gladdy! I promise!”

(16-12-2020 ~ 18-12-2020)

(Inspired by this screenshot of Steelbeak being adorable...sort of.)

[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (end)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays. You know who your soulmate is. It’s Robin. The vigilante. The crime-fighter and protector of Gotham who runs along side the Dark Knight himself – Batman. And you’re still you. This couldn’t possibly work, could it?

Notes: I did not expect my last fic to gain as much popularity as it had, and I am so thankful. @grincheveryday said there had to be a part 2, and although I wasn’t planning on it – I relented. And now here we are, with part 2.

Anyway, thank you again so much for the lovely comments. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Metropolis. The convention was to be held in Metropolis. The city of Superman! I was more than excited when the school informed us, and it turned out that Lex Corp. was sponsoring our transport and accommodations.

Gotham Academy instructed us to pack a week’s worth. The actual event was going to run for a total of one week. 3 days to try and impress during the showcase. After that they scheduled a meeting for students and companies who were interested in internships and mentoring, which would last another 2 days. On the last day Wayne Ent. promised a gala to finish off with a bang.

“Oh, my baby is growing up.” Mom said as she helped me pack.

“It’ll only be a week, mom. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” I laughed.

It was a decent trip going to the big city of Metropolis. What I noticed first were the clean streets and bright colours. The sun was actually out of the clouds (something that only happened a handful of times during the year back at Gotham). There was a lot of excited chatter on the bus as soon as we entered.

“Alright children, you know the rules. Keep close and stay in sight.” Our science professor spoke up over the murmurs.

“Ah, Gotham Academy I’m presuming!” A boisterous voice caught our attention and successfully made us all quiet.

It was Mr. Lex Luthor.

“Mr. Luthor, it’s an honour. May I just say on behalf of our school we’d like to thank you for the generous hospitality.”

“The honour is mine.” He replied to our guide and professor as he shook her hand. “With such young and brilliant minds, how can I refuse?”

It felt surreal to be there. To be meeting with one of the most famous inventors and businessmen on the planet. I thought about pinching myself but if this was a dream, I didn’t want it to end.

We were ushered into the building that we were going to be staying at for the next week. It looked amazing on the inside just as it did on the outside. The receptionist smiled warmly at us when we entered. As the adults talked about where to place us, my schoolmates and I were left in a waiting area with large, soft sofas. I sighed in delight thinking this day couldn’t get any better.

The briefing was short, and we were sent to our rooms to freshen up before dinner. If I thought the lounge was awesome, the bedrooms were 5 times more. The walls were cream in colour, and the furniture’s light tan tint complimented the aesthetic. Two queen sized beds since were to stay in pairs. Bright yellow flowers on beautifully painted vases stood on each of our bedside tables.

I took the bed closest to the window, and placed my bags on the floor. My roommate didn’t mind as she unzipped her suitcase and began to make herself at home. As we shuffled around placing our belongings in their respective areas, I couldn’t help but wonder if Robin would be here. It was a million to one chance since many schools from Gotham were involved, but still, I hoped.

You don’t even who he is, or even how he looks like under that mask — my inner muse said pointedly. I sighed, knowing it was right.

That evening I opted to go to the dining hall a little earlier than expected. I didn’t have any friends around, since it was limited to one student per section. So I found myself alone sitting on a table with my name printed all fancy on a card. I sighed, pulling out my phone and going over the slides of my presentation for the invention.

“Good evening.” A presence alerted me and I fumbled as my phone slipped from my hands.

They caught it in one swoop.

I looked up and found myself face to face with a pair of clear forest green eyes.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Damian Wayne.” His tone was clipped as he handed me my phone, like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

I swallowed thickly, I’m sure I looked flustered, he seemed like he was in a bad mood. Quickly clearing my throat I took my phone from him and introduced myself as quickly as I could.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said stiffly and sat down beside me.

There must’ve been a mistake on the placement of the name cards. Usually they would assign our seats in accordance to our sections. Mine should be at the last... and oh my god his name is next to mine?!  How did I not notice this???

“The - the pleasure is mine.” I said nervously and tucked my phone back in my pocket.

I may not be part of any of his (or his brothers’) fan club, but I wasn’t living under a rock. Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne; the one who organised this entire endeavour. The son of a multi-billionaire business man. The prince of Gotham! What in the world was he doing here — next to me?!

There was a painfully thick awkward silence between us, or maybe it's just me — I bit my lip and looked everywhere else in the room but the boy who was sitting beside me.

Taking deep breaths to calm myself down, I noticed a pleasant aroma in the air. I must’ve missed it after our surprising introductions, but his perfume smelled good. It wasn’t a scent I would normally smell nowadays, but I immediately recognised it.

“Arabian oud.” I said out loud. Unintentionally mind you, to which I mentally facepalmed.

I quickly covered my mouth and apologised. Great, now he’ll think you’re a creep, way to go.

“Yeah.” Damian cocked a brow at me and narrowed his eyes. “It is, not many people know.”

“My dad. He liked those kinds of scents. Came a cross it one time during a case he was working on. I guess it grew on me too.”

Talking about my dad to a complete stranger, it was nerve wrecking but at the same time the memory calmed me, and the scent dancing between us only lulled me further into memory lane.

“It sticks better than regular perfume.” He said nonchalantly.

I had to giggle at that. “Well you get what you pay for.” He scoffed, and I reminded myself that this guy was probably rolling in money every day.

There was silence again, but this time a little less awkward. I still hoped everyone would be here soon though.

My wish was granted. Not five minutes later, the room started to get filled. Everyone took their respective places and made quick chatter. Damian and I stayed quiet though. Perhaps his friends weren’t able to come either, well we had that in common.

Damian was introduced to us before the waiters served our food. Apparently he wasn’t part of the convention but because Wayne Ent. was the one sponsoring, Mr. Wayne deemed it necessary for him to make an appearance.

I sighed to myself and looked around, this really was nothing like I expected it to be.

-x-x-x-

Dinner was delicious. Everyone was happily stuffed and ready for bed. Everyone but me. I couldn’t relax after sitting next to Damian the whole night. I felt his stares multiple times but every time I try to catch him I fail.

As soon as we were done an old man wearing formal attire came to pick him up. Didn’t know where to, but I heard “father” and “penthouse”. Rich kids...

Maybe it was just me who was getting a little paranoid. Maybe it was because of all the rumours I heard of how fan clubs treat other girls who even dared to talk to him other than a polite hi or wave. I shuddered at the thought. Our professor was droning on about the rules (again) and the importance of the buddy system. I briefly wondered if I could sneak out for a small walk around the block or something to release some energy.

And that was exactly where I found myself later that evening. I managed to pass the receptionist and walk a couple of minutes around the area. Not too far, the hotel was still in view. There were people around minding their own business, which was new for me since around this time in Gotham, everyone would be at home. The crisp air felt good, and I was finally able to relax. It was too stuffy being next to him. His smell, it reminded me too much of dad. The memory made a lump form in my throat.

I looked up at the starless sky and blinked back tears. Mom said he’d be proud, I wanted to believe it was true.

“Aw little girl. Why so upset?”

I whirled around and saw a man all dressed in baggy black clothes inch closer at me. “How about you come with me and I can make you feel all better.”

I took a step back as my heart started to race. This was probably not the best idea, even though this was Superman’s City, it didn’t mean crime didn’t exist.

A heavy hand gripped tightly at my shoulder and I realised with utter dread that I was surrounded. Only one way to run and it was through the alley. Every instinct in me shouted that it would be a really bad idea, first off I didn’t know the place, and if I just ran I could very well get lost.

But the grip on my shoulder was worse than anything I could’ve imagined at the moment.

“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t ya.” Another man came in and slid his hands across my cheek before covering my mouth.

His breath smelled of alcohol and smoke. It made me gag.

“I’ve got some great ideas on what I can do with you.” He snickered and dropped his other hand lower onto my chest. I gasped in fear.

No, this isn’t happening.

They pushed me further into the alley, away from prying eyes, and into to the shadows. The man started to grope my waist and hips.

This isn’t happening!

I wanted to fight back, wanted to bite his hand and shout, but my body was frozen. I was in shock. My inner voice was yelling at me to do something, to do anything! But fear clasped me tight and hard.

Then he forced his dirt calloused hand under my shirt and touched my breast.

That snapped me out of it.

With a sense of need to survive I dug my elbow into the man who was holding me and shoved the one in front with as much force as I could muster, exactly how dad taught me. They grunted in pain, and their hold on me lifted. I bolted down the dimly lit passage as soon as I was free.

But they didn’t stop. They called after me, swearing and cursing slurs as they ran. Their footsteps echoed along the tight alley. How many of them were there? 4?

They chanted along what they were planning on doing with me once they catch me. It was horrible. My throat tightening in disgust. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how their minds worked. The tears were beginning to fall as every turn I took only lead deeper into the maze.

I kept running, taking quick sharp turns in the hopes to loose them. I refused to go like this. But my heart plummeted as soon as I faced a dead end.

They were all laughing at my demise, taking their time to get to me so the fear really soaked in. They strolled and taunted. Taking out their ropes and knives from their coat pockets.

“This was a really stupid idea...” I whimpered to myself, wiping my wet cheeks furiously as I did.

“No shit.” I instantly recognised the voice. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”

A figure dropped in front of me, clad in familiar colours. I felt my knees go weak and a new wave of tears started to fall. I sobbed in relief.

Robin pulled out his katana and growled at the men.

“Do not touch her.” He spat at them.

“Robin? But isn’t he supposed to be with the Bat?” One of them questioned, but he was outright ignored.

Their leader, the one who groped me, laughed. A loud barking sort of laughter.

“Don’t touch her?” He mimicked. “But I already have. Must say, she’s quite soft.” He leered at me, I could feel him undressing me with his eyes and I instantly clutched my jacket tighter.

“Bastard!” Robin shouted and threw himself into battle.

They didn’t look worried though.

“You’re just a boy!” They yelled at him as they aimed to kill.

It didn’t phase him as he attacked with the same precision as he did before. Their bullets were evaded with his quick movements. I protected my head with my arms and dashed behind a corner full of crates.

“Excuse me.”

I turned to the person next to me.

He offered a smile, and I noticed his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was hovering over the air.

“Quit stalling Superboy!” Robin grunted. “Take her someplace safe!”

“You heard him.” He told me, and carried me bridal style before flying away.

I clutched on to him as the ground became further and further away.

“Wait — what about Robin?” My voice sounded weak but I didn’t want to just leave him behind.

Superboy looked at me and grinned. “He’ll be okay.”

He set me down on the roof of a building just above the fight.

“Can you wait here a moment? We’ll be right back.”

He looked a few years older, dressed in his father’s colors and symbol proudly plastered on the middle of his chest.

I managed a small nod before he zipped back down and joined the fight. With a bit more courage I peered down and watched as they bravely fought the men. Superboy withheld from using his lasers too much, I suppose since they were in such an enclosed space. Robin on the other hand looked like he was putting everything he had out there.

It ended quite fast, with the men tied up in a rope. Robin seemed to be talking to Superboy, the metahuman nodded once and pointed up where I was standing. I quickly looked away and walked back.

A grappling hook shot up before hooking itself to the side of the building. Robin swung forward and landed gracefully in front of me. He looked angry.

I tried not to look at him straight in the eye, hoping to make myself smaller.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, his voice filled with concern but still laced with a little venom.

I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, I felt so ashamed, and so used. I felt dirty.

“He touched me...” I chocked out, trying to keep the tears at bay and failing.

Robin clenched his fists.

“What were you doing outside at this hour?”

“I - I just wanted to take a walk. I didn’t - it wasn’t -“ I was shaking. All I wanted to do was go back home and hide under my covers.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I heard him walk up to me and hold my chin, turning it towards him as he wiped the tears.

“Stop crying.” He said. “You’re safe now.”

Not being able to help it, I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. I wasn’t an overly physical type of person but I needed something solid, something safe, to clutch on to after what just happened. I wished my mom was here, but then I also didn’t since all this would do would only worry her more. I dreaded the fact that I needed to tell her what happened. But for now I just breathed in and out, trying to calm myself. Robins arms slowly encircled me, and he patted my shoulder awkwardly.

Wait — this smell…

Arabian oud.

I tensed, and pushed back. Robin looked a little confused at the suddenly change but loosened the hug.

My heart started to race as I looked up at his face. No way, there has to be hundreds with the same perfume, right? I couldn’t, or rather didn’t want to believe it. Was it really him under this mask? I wish I could give myself an answer but I was terrified of what I would find if I looked. I was both mad yet relieved that I didn’t look too closely at his face during dinner or else it might be too easy to pick apart his features. The mask only hid so much. I must’ve been eyeing him for too long because Robin gave me a questioning look.

“I -“ I quickly put a slight distance between us and cleared my throat, hoping the heat on my cheeks would cool down, and my head to stop spinning. “Sorry, and thank you! I... probably should get back.” I finished lamely.

The time it took us to get from where we were to the hotel was filled with silence. I made sure not to make eye contact for too long and when I had to I made sure to ignore everything else. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to piece the puzzle together... It felt risky. I thanked him again, and asked him to thank Superboy.

Sneaking back into my room was a lot more difficult that sneaking out. Thankfully my roommate and I had separate keys so going in was a breeze. She was already asleep when I got there much to my relief. I headed straight to the shower, eager to scrub off the mans filthy hold on me. I grimaced as I caught my reflection in the mirror, my skin was bright red from all the scrubbing and my eyes were puffy. I sniffed and looked away.

I didn’t sleep that night, not well anyway, but that was to be expected.

...

...

... to be continued ...