#i was going to do one of these for white whale fall but I didn’t like it and also it didn’t feel that helpful actually LOL

[frascospecimen]

starship edda relationship chart i did because I was bored

[specss00]

ALTERHUMAN SLANG DICTIONARY

MAMMALIAN

Got on my back paws - got on my hands and knees. Like how animals can stand up as a trick.

ex: yeah, i really wanted that necklace, i had to get on my back legs so she would get it for me.

Showing fang - standing up for yourself/being assertive. 

ex:  he’s really tough, and he’ll show fang at just about anything.

White eye - going crazy/really scared. Like how animals show the whites of their eyes when very agitated.

ex: haha, i saw how scared you were during that movie, you went all white eye at the end!

Howling at the sun[wolf/werewolf] doing something completely ridiculously/incorrect

Ex: dude did you see how that movie ended? Mc was really howling at the sun

Could hear someone purring[cat, any other purring animal]  noticeably becoming relaxed around someone/something

Ex: I saw you with your new plush yesterday, I could really hear you purring

Treetop chaser - (herbivorous) someone who chases unattainable things.

ex: they’re way out of your league, don’t be a treetop chaser

Bellycrawler - someone overly submissive.

ex - you have to stand up for yourself, don’t be a bellycrawler and let them take advantage of you.

Downy - young, referring to the soft fur of young animals. 

ex - she shouldn’t be out til midnight, she’s still downy!

Sit on your wag - means the same thing as swallow your smile.

ex - i got accepted into college, but my sister wasn’t, so i had to sit on my wag.

Go for the ruff - do something harmless/gently.

ex - the shirt was really ugly, but i went for the ruff so i didn’t hurt his feelings.

Flea - an insult meaning antikin, or a bigot in general.

ex - oh, you have him in your class? Be careful, he’s a total flea.

AQUATIC

Riptide Rider - (aquatic) someone who lives dangerously.

ex: stay away from her, she’s a riptide rider, you’re bound to get hurt.

Current crazy - someone who just follows other people, same as flock brain

ex: my brother joined the football team, and now he’s all current crazy.

Bottomfeeder - an insult for a low-class being.

ex - the boys at my school are such bottomfeeders, they make all the girls uncomfortable.

Floater - an insult for a superior or snobby person.

ex - ugh, they’re such a floater. They brag about their promotions ALL THE TIME.

Seen the whale fall - someone who is very experienced, now become a word for old among younger aquatics.

ex - my gramps has really seen the whale fall, he’s almost 95!

Play remora - like devil’s advocate, because remoras stick close to sharks.

ex - i don’t wanna play remora about this, but i think he was lying.

AVIAN

Flock brain - (avian) someone who can’t think for themselves. 

ex: ugh, she’s only hanging out with them now, she’s being a total flock brain.

A hummer with an eagle - (avian) someone who is clearly out of their depth.

ex: are you sure you can handle advanced classes? No offense, but you’ll be a hummer with the eagles.

Mantling over [smth] - [avian] being possessive, traditionally over food items 

Ex : Sarah is really mantling over that burger menu, I tried to take a fry and she almost bit my head off...

All preened up - [avian] well dressed, well groomed, the state of satisfaction and confidence that comes with A Good Look

Ex : Wow, Eric was all preened up this evening. I don't think I've ever saw him take this many selfies. 

And just for fun...

Going for the rattler - [roadrunner] choosing the hard or dangerous option, with expectation of either great fun or a great reward

Ex : "Huh, this park offers either a canyoning session over rapids or a day in the sun near the lake" "well I'm definitely going for the rattler" 

flare(s) my wings - (avian) makes me tense/nervous/angry 

"i don't like him, he always makes me flare my wings" 

makes my wings flutter - (avian) makes me happy/excited

"pasta always makes my wings flutter"

im pretty sure "ruffles my feathers" is a preexisting one

messy wings (with no time to preen) - (avian) having a bad day/stressed (and haven't had time to cool down)

"yeah today my wings are so messy and i haven't had time to preen"

Having a blood feather - [avian] being particularly irritable 

ex : Don't bother with this guy, he's been having a severe case of blood feathers. He'll jump at you for anything.

Riding the updraft - [flying creature] taking advantage of good opportunities, being lucky in life, having an easy time.

ex : I've been really riding the updraft recently ! Got both a promotion and a new car! 

Beak agape - [avian] furious, about to throw down.

ex : Jesus, this dude really left me beak agape. The audacity to say that !

Feeling clipped - [avian] feeling restless and anxious, like there's no way out

ex : Honestly these last few weeks have left me feeling clipped, between the news, and being dropped from my job. 

REPTILIAN

Makes my scales itch - (draconic) said about something unsettling or that just feels wrong deep down, a gut feeling that something's wrong

ex: We should get out of here. This place is making my scales itch.

Blow fire - (draconic) be extremely angry about something

ex: Did you hear what went down the other day? John was really blowing fire at Derek over that one.

Rattle someone's scales - (draconic) to unsettle or upset someone

ex: Can't stand that guy, he really rattles my scales. 

Cloudy day - (reptilian) usually used as a question, if someone is acting tired or unusual. Like how reptiles need the sun to stay warm, if it’s cloudy, they can’t warm up.

ex: woah, cloudy day? You look like you haven’t slept in months.

[starlightkun]

❥・word count: 25.5k ❥・genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, single dad kun, single mom reader, there is some angst but not between reader and kun, more-so around them in terms of like life events ❥・warnings: cursing, kid on kid violence (biting lol) ❥・extra info: people are called ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ in this so if u can’t be normal abt that maybe skip this one ❥・author’s note: omggg it’s finally here! this one has been a wip for like literally like 1.5 yrs i think? anyway im absolutely in love w single dad kun in this one, and i hope u guys fall in love w him too 🫶

“Mr. Qian, I’m failing to see how this is any of your concern.”

“Because you’re treating my kid like he’s a felon.”

“Well yours treated mine like a chew toy so excuse me for exercising some caution,” you finally snapped, tightening your grip around your son and cradling the back of his head.

PART I: moments turn to dreams within my mind

Woobin had always been a kid with big feelings, from big smiles to big tears, and as his mom you encouraged him to feel those big feelings when they came. Your older cousin often warned you that you were raising a “crybaby,” but you brushed off her attempts at parenting advice. You’d rather have your Woobin and all his softness than her kid who screamed and threw his monster trucks at the wall at the slightest provocation.

But that didn’t make it any easier for you to walk in and see your son bawling by himself in the corner of his classroom when you went to pick him up from preschool that afternoon. You immediately skirted around a couple other kids and parents to kneel down beside him, feeling your heart breaking as you rubbed his back, “Binnie, Binnie, hey, hey, hey. Mommy’s here.”

You caught the three-year-old by the underarms before he could throw his arms around your neck. His face was bright red, eyes puffy from clearly how hard he had been crying, and snot and spit coated his chin.

“Wait a second, Binnie, I know,” you kept your voice level and calm despite how frantic you felt. “Is it a scary cry or a boo-boo cry?”

It took him several deep inhales and sniffling exhales before he could sob out, “Scary and boo-boo cry, Mommy!”

“Oh, baby,” you immediately enfolded him in your arms, cradling him to your chest gently. “What hurts, Binnie? Can you show me the boo-boo?”

It was then that one of his teachers finally joined you, an apologetic look on her face, “Ms. Y/N, I am so sorry. We would have called, but it happened right before the end of the school day.”

“What happened?”

“Woobin had an incident with another friend.”

“An incident? What sort of incident?” You looked around for another crying kid, expecting that they both had gotten hurt doing something together.

Woobin had just pulled up the left sleeve of his whale patterned longsleeve shirt when his teacher explained to you, “Woobin got bit.”

And there, on your son’s upper arm was the bright red imprint of teeth marks. In fact, it seemed to have been so recent that you could still see the indents in his skin. You were filled with such a burning, white hot rage that your skin tingled and if you weren’t already holding Woobin, you think you would’ve swung on someone. You liked to consider yourself a level-headed person, in control of your emotions, but it was practically all out the window in that moment.

“He got bit?” You repeated her phrasing incredulously. “You mean another kid bit him.”

“I understand that this can be upsetting—”

“How did this happen?” You demanded, pulling Woobin’s sleeve back down and wrapping your arms around him tighter. “What were you doing?”

“Ma’am, I think it would be best for all of us to have a discussion about this together.”

“All of us? Including the biter’s parents? I want to know what you are going to do to make sure my child is safe at your preschool before I even think about bringing him back here, much less have some mediation like he’s at fault as much as the kid who bit him.”

The teacher paused, as if waiting to see if you were done, before speaking again, “Ms. Y/N, it is our policy in such incidents to have a meeting between school personnel and the guardians of both involved children, regardless of... injury. In order for Woobin to keep his spot, you two are required to attend this meeting. We understand if you wish to seek out different accommodations for him, however, we’ve found that all parties are typically satisfied with the outcome of this process. I highly encourage you try it, and if you still want to pull Woobin from our program after, that is of course your decision as his mother.”

Your chest was heaving as you took deep breaths, clenching your jaw as you stared her down. After a few moments of deliberation and listening to your son’s continued sobs, you let out a short and bitter sigh, “When would this meeting be?”

“After school tomorrow. Will you be available then?”

“Fine. Yes,” you stood up with your boy still in your arms, shifting him onto your hip. “But Woobin will not be at school tomorrow.”

“He will be missed,” she nodded with that same placid smile.

As you stalked out of the classroom, you passed by a father and son speaking to the other teacher.

The next day, you dropped Woobin off at your parents’ place with a peck on his forehead and profuse ‘thank you’s to them. You had vented to your mother on the phone the night prior, after putting your son to bed, finally letting loose all the obscenities that you had wanted to in the preschool. Your mom gladly took her grandson for the day before shooing you off to work.

You then had to leave work a little early to pick Woobin up from your parents’ to take him to the preschool since the meeting was to take place right after the school day ended. For some godforsaken reason that escaped you, they required the kids to be in attendance at the meeting too. As if your three-year-old was really going to be testifying about the entire situation. The most him being there could accomplish was prove that he had a bite mark, which a picture on your phone could also do.

After a “give ‘em hell” from your mom, and an offer to come along from your dad, which you contemplated for a moment, then declined, you started for the school. While your dad coming along would make you feel better, it would also make you feel like you were buying your first car again and were afraid of the salesman trying to scam you for being a woman. This was a meeting about the welfare and treatment of your son, you could do this.

Standing in the lobby with some other parents who were milling around, waiting for the respective classrooms to announce they were ready for pick-up, you found yourself tapping your foot impatiently. The 1-year-olds picked up first, then the 2-year-olds. As those families filtered out, you were left with only a few parents, as this section of the school only went up to 3-year-olds. The 4-year-olds went to a different wing of the building for VPK, and you knew that the other buildings on the rather expansive campus held an elementary, middle, and even high school.

You felt Woobin shift in your arms to get comfortable, and readjusted him to your other hip, “Sorry, Binnie, I know you’re tired.”

“Do you two want to sit?” A voice spoke up from behind you.

You turned around and had to look down at a man in a suit sitting on one of the padded benches in the lobby. He was presumably some kind of businessman from the nice upkeep and fit of his suit, even as he had loosened the tie a little bit for being off of work. His handsome, friendly smile would’ve made your heart skip a beat on any other day, if you weren’t on a mission today.

All of the seating had been taken up when you got there, and you didn’t even think to look around for open spots as other parents started to leave.

The man shifted to one end, gesturing towards the open spots that could fit probably three adults comfortably. You smiled at him gratefully, “Oh, yes, thank you.”

You sat down, keeping your sleepy Woobin on your lap. Being at his grandparents’ today had thrown off his usual nap schedule, and you rubbed his back soothingly. Rolling up his sleeve which was on the side opposite from the man, you inspected the bite mark. It had blossomed into a rather gnarly bruise overnight, all blue and purple, and it only made anger churn again in your chest. He hadn’t given any indication that it still hurt as you fixed his sleeve, thumb tenderly swiping over the area after.

Finally, the three-year-old class was dismissed for pick-up, and the other parents gathered their children. You hung back, waiting for all of them to filter out, before you approached the classroom. You figured the parents of the biter would still be in there, but hadn’t expected the man who had offered you a seat to be the one there with another little boy and the teachers.

“Wonderful, everyone is here,” Mrs. Chen, the older of the two teachers, announced.

“Qian Kun.” The man took it upon himself to do the introductions, bowing to you politely. He then ruffled the hair of the boy standing beside him, just above knee-height, “And this is my son Junyi. I am deeply sorry for Junyi biting Woobin, Miss…?”

“Y/L/N Y/N,” you half-nodded half-bowed back to him as best you could with Woobin in your arms. “And before we get into all that, what I really want to know is—” You rounded on the teachers. “How this could have even happened.”

Ms. Xu, the younger teacher with whom you had spoken yesterday, opened a door on the far side of the classroom, “Of course. We’ll be having the meeting in here.”

With a short sigh at how your question was once again brushed off, you stepped into the interior office space. It looked like it must be where the teachers took their breaks and did any sort of administrative work. A few desks were against the walls, closed laptops and bags set on a couple of them. There was a table set up in the middle, four chairs around it, and a small area with toys off to the side.

“We have a place over there for the children to play while we discuss,” Ms. Xu smiled, gesturing to the toys you’d spotted when you walked in.

Mr. Qian nodded, gently directing his son towards them, “Go on and play for a bit, Junyi. Daddy’s going to talk right over here, okay?”

Junyi toddled over and plopped himself down on the playmat, picking up a truck and doll, easily entertaining himself. The other three adults looked to you and your son expectantly.

“Thank you, but Woobin is going to be staying with me,” you informed them. All the talking had made Woobin stir, but he seemed rather content in your arms anyway, simply looking between all the adults with big, curious eyes.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I assure you, I had a talk with Junyi last night and again this morning about not biting our friends. He shouldn’t be doing that anymore.”

“And I assure you, Mr. Qian, my concerns are not about your parenting,” you told him frankly. “But Woobin will be remaining with me for the duration of this meeting.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, really, Woobin will be fine with Juny—”

“Mr. Qian, I’m failing to see how this is any of your concern.”

“Because you’re treating my kid like he’s a felon.”

“Well yours treated mine like a chew toy so excuse me for exercising some caution,” you finally snapped, tightening your grip around your son and cradling the back of his head.

Mr. Qian’s jaw dropped, and Mrs. Chen cut in before he could say anything else.

“Let’s all sit down and try to have a more productive discussion.” The words were phrased like a suggestion, but the stern tone she said them in very much let you know that they weren’t. “Ms. Y/L/N, Woobin can of course be wherever you are most comfortable having him.”

You nodded to her curtly, taking a seat at the table. With Woobin more awake, you turned him in your lap to face the table, and set up a couple toys and small games on the tabletop to keep him occupied. The teachers took a seat beside each other, leaving you and Mr. Qian sitting caddy-corner.

“First, I want to know what happened,” you demanded, entirely focused on the two teachers.

Ms. Xu took over the explaining, “The class had earned free play yesterday after finishing their curriculum work early. After, we were doing our end of the day clean-up activities, which all of the students help with. Junyi and Woobin were assigned to pick up toys this week. It seems there was a disagreement about who was going to be putting away a specific toy, a whale. Woobin was bit.”

You clenched your jaw at that passive phrasing again. “And where were you two when this was going on?”

“Mrs. Chen was assisting the students who were cleaning the snack tables on the other side of the room. I was the one overseeing the students tidying that side of the room.”

“What do you mean when you say disagreement? I’m trying to understand how it was allowed to escalate into biting.”

Mr. Qian finally spoke up again, “Ms. Y/L/N, Junyi has never done anything like this before, I honestly don’t know where this came from. He’s not a mean kid.”

“Mr. Qian, that is not what I said nor asked,” you turned to him coolly. “I want to know what exactly she was seeing and how much time she had to intervene.”

Ms. Xu recalled, “The two of them were getting along fine. Junyi did seem to be getting a little frustrated, and Woobin was beginning to tear up, but there was no contact at that point, and we know how Woobin is.”

She glanced at the boy on your lap with a sympathetic look, and it took everything in you to hold back your revulsion at her. Yes, your son was quicker to cry than others, but that didn’t mean that as the adult, she shouldn’t investigate what exactly was making him cry.

“I was keeping an eye on the situation to see if they would resolve it on their own,” she tried to reassure you. “If I had thought that it would escalate like that at all, I promise I would have intervened. The contact was entirely unexpected and very sudden.”

“The biting.” You clarified flatly.

“Well, yes,” she nodded. “As soon as I saw it happen, both Mrs. Chen and I went over and separated the two. It was no more than a second or two at most, Ms. Y/N.”

“It sounds like you two did the best you could’ve,” Mr. Qian told the teachers before turning to you once more. “Ms. Y/L/N, again, I am so sorry that Junyi did this, but it sounds like it really did come out of nowhere.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply to recenter yourself. Entirely ignoring Mr. Qian’s platitudes, you looked at the teacher, “It took you just a second or two to separate them?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Binnie, may I?” You murmured to your son, reaching for the sleeve of his shirt.

“Okay, Mommy,” he easily let go of his toy for you.

Rolling up the longsleeve of his shirt you turned him a little to show off the deep black, blue, and purple bruise in the perfect shape of a set of little teeth to the other three adults sitting around the table with you. Ms. Xu audibly gasped, Mrs. Chen covered her mouth and looked away, and Mr. Qian had the most visceral reaction, grimacing with his whole upper body as if he’d been slapped.

“I simply find it hard to believe that it was only a mere one or two seconds when my son’s arm looks like this now,” you stated, making firm eye contact with both teachers. “So, I will ask again: How long did it take you to separate them?”

Mrs. Chen and Ms. Xu exchanged uncomfortable looks before the older woman took over speaking.

“Ms. Y/N, I’m not sure if you’ve had experience with removing a child that’s bitten onto another and won’t let go, but you can’t simply rip them apart without causing further damage to the other child’s skin. Ms. Xu couldn’t separate them on her own, she had to wait for me to get there, and as we’ve already said, I was on the other side of the classroom. So yes, it did take longer than we would have liked to separate the two.”

“So it took longer than two seconds, which is what you just told me, twice. You have lied to me twice now about how my child got injured in your classroom.” You rolled Woobin’s sleeve back down, absentmindedly patting his head. Leaning forward as much as you could with him there, you jutted your pointer finger decidedly into the tabletop outside of his toys, “So now I want to know what you and the school are going to do to ensure my son’s safety in your classroom.”

The father beside you suddenly jolted into action at your words, “Ms. Y/L/N, Junyi won’t—”

You rounded on him incredulously, doing your best to both be firm while not absolutely losing it on him, “Mr. Qian, I have already told you that I am not here to concern myself with how you parent your child. And I think the fact that you take my concern for my own child’s wellbeing as an affront to your relationship with yours says more than I would ever think is appropriate for me to.”

Okay, maybe you lost it on him a little.

With him sufficiently dumbfounded, you were able to focus back on the school staff in front of you, “Now please, can we get back to the topic at hand? I want to know what you two plan on doing about classroom management and observing the children under your care to prevent future incidents like this from happening. And I want it written down in a formal document, with assurances from your superiors about how both that and your staff training on communication with parents will be handled, because it certainly can’t include lying to them.”

Ms. Xu looked down at her lap guiltily, while Mrs. Chen simply looked disgruntled. You held the older woman’s gaze steadily, having a distinct feeling that little lie you’d been told was her doing, and the junior teacher was following her own superior’s lead.

“Of course, Ms. Y/N. I will call the principal right now to aid in drawing up the document you’ve requested,” Mrs. Chen acquiesced, standing up and moving over to one of the desks, picking up the landline phone sitting there.

You nodded to her, finally letting your eyes drop down to your kid in your lap. You were unable to fight off the smile that spread across your lips as you looked at your son, picking up one of his hands and bringing it up to your mouth to kiss his little fingers.

“My turn Mommy!” He squealed, grabbing one of your fingers and giving it a comically loud smooch.

You could feel Mr. Qian’s gobsmacked stare on you still, but ignored him. You’d done what you came here to do, none of which involved making nice with the biter’s parents. While what you’d said about not wanting to comment on his parenting was true, that didn’t mean that you hadn’t formed a silent opinion or two about it, especially with how defensive he was. Needless to say, with how he’d attempted to handle this, you didn’t really think very highly of Mr. Qian.

After leaving the mediation with your own copy of the formal plan on how the three-year-old classroom’s management and safety procedures were going to be tweaked—with specific policies about biting and inter-student de-escalation—and a form that you and Mr. Qian had signed attesting that you participated in and were satisfied with the mediation process, you paused in the lobby of the school. You were juggling too many things: the papers, some of Woobin’s toys, Woobin, your purse, all while trying to get your car keys.

“Hey, you need some help?”

You turned to Mr. Qian with a strained smile, “No, thank you, we’re okay.”

Considering the conversation over, you went to set Woobin down on the ground, “Here, Binnie, wait right here next to Mommy.”

“Oh, glad to see his legs do work.” The man was apparently still there.

“Yes, they do.” You pressed your lips into a flat line, not very amused. “And I don’t appreciate the passive-aggressive comment on my parenting, Mr. Qian.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Your joke was referencing the fact that the entire time you’ve seen Woobin and me this afternoon, I’ve been either carrying him or holding him in my lap, despite the fact that he can stand on his own. You’ve been letting your son walk on his own all afternoon and haven’t picked him up once. Thus, implying that I’m coddling my son and raising him to be dependent on me, while you’re raising yours to be independent.” You tossed Woobin’s toys into your purse, then folded the papers in half to tuck in as well. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with lots of people thinking they can give me unwarranted advice on parenting. Especially men who think I’m going to give him one too many hugs and he’ll develop an Oedipus complex. They also presumably think that my uterus is roaming around my body causing me to become hysterical while I’m telling them off, too.”

Having finally fished your car keys out from the bottom of your purse, you hoisted Woobin back up into your arms, defiantly making eye contact with the father, “Goodbye, Mr. Qian.”

A couple weeks of uneventfully picking up Woobin from preschool passed by. You saw Mr. Qian in the lobby, or passed by him in the classroom, of course. But you made no moves to talk to or even acknowledge him, nor he you. Ms. Xu seemed genuinely apologetic about what happened, doing everything possible to ingratiate herself to you at every opportunity, chatting you up at pick-up, asking about your day at work, or telling you about how well Woobin did at curriculum or art or such during the day. Mrs. Chen was cordial, and did your requested weekly check-ins on how the implementation of the new procedures were coming along. You sincerely engaged with and thanked her after each update. After all, you wanted your relationship with your son’s teachers to be productive, not adversarial. As long as they were done lying to you.

Today when you went to pick up Woobin, he was contently sitting in his chair at a table, swinging his feet under him. You squatted down beside him, mussing up his hair a bit, “Hey, Binnie. Have a good day?”

“Yes,” he nodded, reaching out towards you, and you grabbed his hand. “Missed Mommy.”

“And I missed Binnie!” You replied, squeezing his little tummy, delighting in the bright little giggle he let out. “Now come on, bubbles, let’s go home.”

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” Ms. Xu was suddenly at your side before you could stand up.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Xu, how are you?”

“I’m very excited, actually. But first, Woobin had a fantastic day at school today. He went down so easy for naptime, and he finished the curriculum so fast that we brought out a 4-year-old worksheet for him just to see, and he did that one too! It was some counting, and he did great!”

You turned to your son with a grin, “Did you have fun doing all that counting, Binnie?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“And are you proud of yourself, bubbles?”

“Yes, Mommy. Can I have a high five?”

“You can have two high fives,” you held out both your palms for him to smack his little hands into.

Turning back to the teacher, you indulged her in the question she very clearly wanted you to ask, “And why are you so excited, Ms. Xu?”

She handed you the piece of paper in her hands, “Well, the Fall Festival is coming up. The entire campus pitches in to put it on, and this year the preschool is running the Bake Sale table. We’re asking parents to volunteer to either bring treats, set up, break down, or do a shift running the table. If you’re able.”

It looked like you were the first parent Ms. Xu had given the sign-up sheet to, all the slots were empty. Eight slots to bring different baked goods, and two slots for each hour-long shift. While you weren’t exactly feeling charitable to the school—Woobin’s bruise still hadn’t fully healed—you noticed the text at the top of the sign-up sheet advertising that any parent who volunteered would get two free ride tickets. Woobin hadn’t gone on his first Ferris Wheel yet, and that was a memory you were looking forward to making with him.

“The ride tickets—” You tapped that part of the paper to draw Ms. Xu’s attention to it. “Will there be a Ferris Wheel?”

Her face immediately lit up and she nodded fervently, “Yes! And Woobin should be just big enough as long as he sits in your lap.”

Well, you could kill an hour running a Bake Sale table with another random preschooler’s parent then take Woobin on the Ferris Wheel. You quickly scribbled down your name for the first hour after the set-up shift, then handed the paper back to Ms. Xu.

The day of the Fall Festival was upon you, and you were holding Woobin’s hand as you walked across the expansive campus grounds. The booth where the preschool’s Bake Sale was set up was near the other food and carnival games towards the front of the grassy clearing, and you could see the Ferris Wheel at the very back. You were about fifteen minutes early, and most vendors were still finishing setting up. Since you were doing the first shift, you wanted to make sure you weren’t late, as well as see if there was anything from set up that you could help with if needed.

The Bake Sale booth was easy to find, and you saw two men there carrying in large tubs filled with containers of various baked goods.

“Good morning!” You greeted them brightly. “Are you the set-up crew?”

“Johnny Suh,” the taller of the two gestured to himself, then to his companion, “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Nice to meet you two, I’m Y/L/N Y/N, and this is Woobin. I’m on the first shift. Your kids are in the three-year-old class as well, right?”

“Yes, Sungchan,” Mr. Jeong confirmed with a smile. “I think I’ve seen you around the classroom at drop off and pick up before.”

“And Mark is my boy,” Mr. Suh nodded, then looked around the property. “Well, these are the last of it. Now, he should be around here somewhere…”

You followed Mr. Suh’s gaze, and your stomach dropped as you recognized two familiar figures approaching the table from the direction of the school. Qian Kun was holding a metal box in one hand, and his son’s hand with the other. He set the metal box down on the table.

“Sorry, had to get the money box from Mrs. Chen in the classroom,” he explained, then looked to the two men with you. “Thank you, Mr. Suh, Mr. Jeong. Ms. Y/L/N and I have got it from here.”

“Alright, we’ll see you at the end for break-down, then,” Mr. Suh slapped Mr. Qian’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Goodbye, Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Qian. You too, Woobin and Junyi!” Mr. Jeong gave waves to all four of you before taking off after the other man who was already several long strides away from the table. “Hey, Johnny!”

Two pop-up chairs were set up behind the table, and Mr. Qian grabbed a bag that was beside one, unfurling a playmat from the inside and laying it down on the ground beside the table. He poured out a bunch of toys too, then squatted down beside his son.

“Alright, Junyi, I need you to look at me. Daddy needs you to play on this blanket today, okay? If you need to go off the blanket, you have to tell Daddy first. It’s so we can stay safe. You cannot leave the blanket without telling Daddy. All your favorite toys are there, you’re going to play with them and have fun. I’ve got snacks and stuff, too. But you need to stay on it. Do you understand, Junyi?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Okay, can you please tell me what you’re going to do then?”

“I’m going to play on the blanket.”

“And what if you want to leave?”

“I ask Daddy.”

“Why?”

Junyi’s face screwed into a pout as he tried to remember. “I forgot, ‘m sorry…”

“That’s okay, buddy. It’s so we can be safe,” Mr. Qian repeated it for him. “Now, why are we going to stay on the blanket?”

“So we can be safe.”

“Good, buddy,” He ruffled his son’s hair. “Now go play, I’ll be right here at this table.”

The man stood up straight again, his eyes flicking over you briefly as he began organizing the sweets on the table.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N. Woobin is welcome to play on the mat with Junyi during the shift, if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

“Oh, thank you.” You led Woobin over to the mat as well. “Binnie, Mommy is going to be working for a while at this table. Your job is to stay on the playmat with Junyi, so that you two can stay safe, okay? You cannot leave the playmat without Mommy.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“So tell me, what are you going to do?”

“Play with Junyi.”

“Where?”

“On the playmat.”

“Can you show Mommy what all the playmat is?”

He pointed to the edges of the yellow and blue blanket for you.

“And are you going to leave it without Mommy?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“So I can be safe.”

You grinned at him, “Thank you, bubbles. Go play, baby. Call for Mommy if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

After depositing a few more toys that you had brought along for Woobin on the mat, you returned to where Mr. Qian was setting out the food.

“Here,” he held a tray of brownies out to you. “These will go there, right in front of you.”

“Oh, got it.” You set them down exactly where he gestured. “So, you signed up for set up and the first shift?”

“I’m actually helping to run the Bake Sale, so I’m setting up, breaking down, and filling in for whichever slots nobody signed up for.”

“Wait, did you bake these, too?”

“Only the ones in containers with the green lids. Other parents contributed too.”

You looked over the baked goods he had indicated. All the ones in the green containers looked the best, you had considered in the back of your mind that one of the richer parents might have just bought them from a bakery and brought them in instead of baking themselves.

Sneaking a glance at the man beside you, you then panicked when you realized that he was already looking at you, expectantly holding out a plate of frosted sugar cookies.

“Here, next to the brownies.”

“Right, on it.”

Mr. Qian cleared his throat, “I am surprised, Ms. Y/L/N… that you’re allowing Woobin to play with Junyi.”

“I’ve also allowed him back at school for the past month, Mr. Qian.” You pointed out. “As I said, my issue has never been with Junyi, but with how the school handled the entire situation.”

“Hm.”

You let out a short sigh, “Though, I am sorry for some of the things I said at that meeting, they were out of line.”

“Some? May I inquire about which ones?”

“The chew toy thing…”

“Oh, yes.”

“And the whole ‘my concern over my child’s safety not being an affront to your relationship with yours.’ That was seriously… awful of me. Just so pretentious,” you breathed out, feeling ashamed as you relived your words. But if you were to ever expect to teach your son humility and owning up to his mistakes, you had to practice it yourself. “I said I wasn’t there to comment on your parenting and then I did exactly that in the exact same breath. I’m sorry, Mr. Qian, and I hope you can believe me when I say that.”

He held your gaze steadily, “I forgive you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Everything else I said, though, I stand by,” you reaffirmed pointedly.

“I understand,” he nodded.

You were pretty sure the festival had officially opened, as families had begun filtering in. Some were slowing down as they passed by your table to skim their eyes over your offerings, but none had stopped so far. So you were still just stuck there with Qian Kun and the overwhelming silence that felt like it was damn near suffocating you.

“So, what do you do for a living?” You finally decided to ask. If you weren’t going to be holding a grudge against the guy, you might as well make small talk.

“I’m in sales.”

Okay, small talk was not his forte. This was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Well it seems like they put the Bake Sale table in good hands, then.”

“What about you?” At least he understood reciprocity.

“Publishing.” Yeah, you weren’t any better than him. You stumbled to add on more information, “Uh, I’m a copy editor.”

“Is that like a proof reader?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

And at that moment, your blessed first customers walked up to your booth, a group of high school students, and you leapt at the opportunity to get out of that awkward conversation.

When your hour shift was finally over, you gleefully picked Woobin and his toys up from the playmat, took your two free ride tickets from Mr. Qian, and waved goodbye to him and the new volunteer parent who had shown up to take over your slot.

“Alright, Binnie, the Fall Festival is our oyster,” you looked it over with shining eyes. “What should we do first?”

Two hours later, and you were just finishing up your slightly late lunch. You scrolled through the delightful pictures that you’d taken of you and Woobin on the Ferris Wheel, sending a couple to your parents before tucking your phone away.

“Dessert sounds good, don’t you think?” You suggested to Woobin, and the Bake Sale popped into your mind. Those desserts that Mr. Qian made had looked really good, and you weren’t able to try any when you were working the table this morning…

“Please, Mommy?”

“You didn’t even need to ask, bubbles, Mommy wants some dessert too,” you admitted, taking his hand in yours. “I think we should go get some of those sweets that Junyi’s dad made. How does that sound? Did you see them earlier?”

There was a short line that you bumped up against at the Bake Sale table, just a couple families ahead of you. When you finally got to the front, your greeting to Mr. Qian stopped in your throat as you took in the empty spot beside him.

“Are you all by yourself, Mr. Qian?” You craned your neck to look around for signs of another parent.

He let out a tired sigh very clearly from deep within, eyes conveying a harrowed, ominous kind of exhaustion, “It seems as though the parent who signed up for the last four slots has skipped out on me. Been by myself for the past thirty minutes or so. I gave up on him about fifteen minutes ago.”

With a resolute nod, you hoisted your son up onto your hip and slid around to the other side of the table to stand beside Mr. Qian, “Binnie and I will finish the day out with you two then.”

“No, Ms. Y/L/N, you really don’t have to. I’m sure you have things to do, and I can run a preschool Bake Sale by myself.”

“Junyi! Come play with Woobin over here please!” You called after the little boy that you’d spotted toddling a little too far away from the playmat for comfort.

The man whipped around as his son came waddling back over at the sound of his name, clearly unaware that he had just wandered off. He squatted down to chastise the boy, reminding him to stay on the blanket. Junyi nodded, plopping down with his toys.

“I’m not leaving you out to dry, Kun,” you told the father frankly, sitting Woobin and his toys back down on the playmat too.

He gave you a frazzled smile, “Thanks, Y/N.”

Another couple hours passed by of you and Kun jointly running the Bake Sale table. Word had apparently spread since the first hour that you’d done with him in the morning, and the treats were extremely popular. Your line was never empty for more than a minute or two, and often times wrapped past other booths. Now you could see why Kun was so out of it when you had gotten there, he had been doing this by himself, even for just thirty minutes, with Junyi there.

The two of you fell into a symbiotic rhythm of taking orders, payment, handing out food, and keeping an eye on the two boys with you.

In a rare, brief lull between customers, you were caught off-guard when it was also quiet behind you. The telltale giggles, babbling, and nonsense conversation of Woobin and Junyi had faded out. You frowned thoughtfully as you finished rearranging the brownies in front of you, about to turn around to investigate anyway when a heart-wrenching wail pierced the still air. Immediately, you went to jerk around to comfort your crying Woobin, but were stopped in your tracks, so caught off-guard to see that it wasn’t your son sobbing. He was standing in front of Junyi, who was sat on the playmat, half-crying and half-screaming his head off.

Kun couldn’t get the cash in his hand into the register fast enough, and you rushed over to try to get Woobin to at least back up. Crowding Junyi definitely wasn’t going to help.

But you stopped as you realized that Woobin was talking to the other boy.

“Junyi, scary or boo-boo?” Woobin quietly asked him. After he didn’t get a reply, he asked again, “Scary or boo-boo?”

Junyi managed to blubber out, “Scary!”

Kun had finally arrived on the playmat while you watched on with wide, bewildered, and awestruck eyes as Woobin gave Junyi a big hug. The dad looked even more confused than you.

“What’s going on?”

You held up a finger for him to wait a moment, then turned to your son, “Binnie, do you know what happened to Junyi? Why is he having a scary cry?”

“Junyi fell down, Mommy,” he answered you dutifully.

“Okay, thank you,” you nodded to him. Looking at Kun, you explained, “Seems like Junyi just fell down. I don’t think he’s hurt, it just gave him a scare.”

“Daddy!” Junyi whimpered, and Kun gently extracted him from the other toddler’s arms to bring him into his own. Cradling his son, Kun murmured soft reassurances to him as the boy clung to his neck.

“Uh, thank you, Woobin,” he nodded to your son. “I’ve got Junyi from here.”

“You’re welcome,” Woobin replied, but you could see the moistness gathering in his eyes too. Oh, your big-hearted kid.

Both you and Kun brought your respective kids back to the table with you, sitting in the pop-up chairs with them in your laps. The two of you were quiet until Junyi’s sobs had simmered down into little hiccups, and you could feel that Woobin’s breathing had evened out into a nap.

“Okay, how did you do that?” Kun whispered at you.

“Do what?” You replied just as quietly.

“Get Woobin to do what he just did.”

“By asking him the exact same question pretty much every single time he’s cried for the past three years,” you answered honestly. “And he didn’t use to even answer me, much less ask other people that. That’s the first time he’s ever done that, actually.”

“Huh…”

Mr. Suh and Mr. Jeong came back an hour and a half later to help break down the table. It had been a pretty successful endeavor, if you did say so yourself, as there were only a handful of treats left, which you and Kun offered to a group of high schoolers who came by after break-down.

With everything packed up except the cash drawer, Kun turned to you with finality, “I’ve just got to drop this off with the front office and that’ll be it. Thanks, Y/N. You and Woobin were a big help today.”

“Of course. Sorry about that parent who skipped out on you. Who was it, anyway?”

“A… Mr. Nakamoto?” Kun read off the paper. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“I think I’ve chatted with him in the lobby a couple times. His son’s in the two-year-old class if I remember correctly?” You strained your memory, then gave up. “Oh, whatever. Maybe he just had an emergency or something.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Anyway, have a goodnight, Kun, Junyi,” you nodded to the two of them, then squeezed your son’s hand. “Binnie, we’re leaving, do you want to say something to Junyi and Mr. Qian?”

Your son perked up, giving the two of them a bright smile and big wave, “Goodbye!”

“Junyi?” Kun prompted his son from where he was tucked into the father’s chest. “Tell Ms. Y/L/N and Woobin goodbye, you won’t see Woobin until Monday.”

“Bye, Woobin. Bye… Ms. Y/L/N.” Junyi said in between yawns, rubbing at his eyes. Poor guy seemed absolutely tuckered out.

“Goodnight,” Kun gave you one last nod before heading towards the school, and you and Woobin took off towards your car.

Monday morning you released Woobin’s hand to let him scamper into his classroom, giving Ms. Xu a wave of acknowledgement as you signed the morning drop-off sheet by the door. You were about to take off for work when a hand grabbed your elbow, and you hadn’t even realized that Ms. Xu had approached you, all too focused on heading to work.

“Ms. Y/N!”

“Ah, Ms. Xu, good morning,” you greeted her. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I just wanted to thank you for pitching in with the Bake Sale on Saturday. Mr. Qian informed us that he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without your help.”

You looked around for Kun. You were only able to spot Junyi, however, coloring with Woobin at a table. Seems like he’d already come and gone. Great, now you had a reputation for being a helpful mom.

You shook off both her hand and her praise, “Oh, really Mr. Qian is exaggerating. He works in sales, did you know? Honestly didn’t need my help.”

“Well, whatever you two did, it was our most successful Bake Sale—well, any kind of fundraising event—for the preschool ever! And, we were wondering if the two of you would consider getting more involved in some parent leadership positions at the school? The preschool PTA have been trying to get a fundraising committee off the ground, and we really think that you two would do a fantastic job spearheading—”

You must have had some kind of look on your face, as Ms. Xu suddenly stopped dead in the middle of her sentence, entirely switching trains of thought. Keeping her same peppy tone and bright, hopeful smile, she said, “I am so sorry to have thrown so much at you. You must have to be getting to work. Why don’t we talk about it later when you come pick Woobin up? All of us, Mr. Qian, too. Goodbye, Ms. Y/N!”

And with that you were ushered out of the door, utterly dumbfounded at what had just happened.

That afternoon, you squared your shoulders and steeled your nerves as you approached the preschool doors. You had to keep your resolution firm: you were absolutely not going to be joining any sort of PTA, fundraising committee, or parent leadership position. The only thing that you were going to be spearheading was cracking open the bottle of wine that was waiting for you at your apartment tonight.

You were a little earlier than you usually were for pick-up, which you had done on purpose, needing to clear the air with a certain Mr. Qian Kun. Immediately homing in on the man, you made a beeline for him. He noticed you, his friendly hand falling as he seemed to notice the set of your brow.

“Good afternoon, Y—”

“Qian Kun,” you cut him off sternly. “Do you care to tell me why I was voluntold for a position spearheading a fundraising committee this morning?”

“Oh, that. Look, it came as a surprise to me too,” he tried to assuage you.

“Why the hell did my name even come out of your mouth in such a discussion in the first place?”

“Because they were praising me on how well the Bake Sale went, and I was making sure you got the credit that you deserved too. Are you upset about that? If so, I’m sorry? I guess?”

“You listen to the words coming out of my mouth: I will be a PTA mom over your dead body,” you hissed, scooching in to take the spot on the bench beside him and free up more standing space for the parents coming in.

“Okay, let’s take a step back from the threats, maybe, Y/N,” Kun suggested, holding his hands up in both a defensive and ‘are you kidding me?’ gesture. “What’s so awful about being a PTA parent in the first place?”

“Free labor for so little reward, and I don’t have the time for that. Do you?”

“We haven’t even heard their proposal; we don’t know what they’d be wanting us to do.”

“‘Spearheading a committee’ sounds like a part-time job at least.”

“Alright, well, didn’t Ms. Xu tell you that you and I held the most successful fundraising event the preschool’s ever had? And that wasn’t even with us making a concerted effort, either, that was just some random mid-grade effort Bake Sale. Imagine what we could do if we really go for it.”

“You work in sales, huh?” You deadpanned after his little pitch was finished. The one-year-old class opened for dismissal, and you leaned in towards him to continue your fervent conversation in a more hushed voice, “And can’t even realize when you’re the one being sold to! You do know that this campus has a bunch of filthy rich donors, right? They’re not hard pressed for cash, they just give the high school priority, then the middle school, primary, and the preschool gets the leftovers—if there’s even any—forcing it to have to fundraise for itself.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to do this, then?” Kun pushed back.

“We could do a hundred Bake Sales and it wouldn’t make up the difference between the scraps the preschool gets and the millions that the high school does. No, it would be all the more reason for us to go find our own filthy rich donor who would put a stipulation on their donation for it to be used exclusively for the preschool.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve got to think bigger about this, Kun,” you knocked on his forehead with two of your knuckles as best you could in the narrow space between the two of you. “God. You said you work in sales, what do you even do?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, red tinging the tips of his ears, “Would you believe me if I said I’m a Director of Sales?”

“No,” you snorted.

“That’s fair.”

“So anyway, glad we’re on the same page about saying no to this.” You went to lean away from him and put some pep back into your tone, watching as the two-year-old class was dismissed next.

“What? I—” he looked around, it was only the three-year-old parents left in the lobby now. You sighed, scooting back over to sit shoulder-to-shoulder again for him to be able to continue in a hushed voice, “I thought we were going to find a donor for the preschool.”

“You want us to go in there, and say yes to leading the preschool PTA’s fundraising committee on the condition that its sole mission is to stage a coup within the financial hierarchy of the campus?”

“Okay well when you say it like that—”

“I’m in.” You grinned at him. “As long as you were being serious about the Director of Sales thing.”

“I was,” he fished out a business card from his wallet to hand to you.

Qian Kun, Director of Sales, WeiShen, Inc.

And below that was his email, office phone line, and fax number. You gave it back to him.

“Perfect. Those connections will come in handy.”

The door to the three-year-old classroom swung open just then, and you got to your feet.

“Alright, Mr. Qian, ready to go start the cutest coup the world has ever seen?” You offered your hand to him.

He stood up alongside you, giving your hand a firm shake, “Yes, absolutely, Ms. Y/L/N. They’ll never know what hit them.”

While Mrs. Chen and Ms. Xu were definitely caught off-guard by your idea, after getting over their initial shock, they were surprisingly on-board with it. They requested that you two bring in a more formal proposal to the next preschool PTA meeting— next Wednesday. That gave you nine days.

“So how did you know all that, about the donors and distribution structure of the funds?” Kun asked as you walked out into the empty preschool lobby.

“I did my research before picking a preschool for Woobin. It’s all there on the Internet if you dig deep enough, and are somewhat adept at reading through the legal bull—” You cut yourself off, looking down at the two toddlers with you. Kun pushed the front door open for you, and you quietly thanked him as you led Woobin through it before resuming your train of thought, “It’s obviously not in any of the advertising stuff for prospective parents, but for prospective donors, investors; the corporate materials.”

The four of you stopped in front of the building, where the small parking lot was.

“So then why did you enroll him here, even knowing about how they treat the preschool with the donations?”

“The high school is the best in the area, and the easiest way to guarantee admission is to graduate in from their middle school. Easiest way to get into the middle school is to graduate in from the primary school.”

“And the easiest way into the primary school is through the preschool,” the dad surmised.

“Bingo. I’m keeping Binnie’s options open,” you squeezed your son’s hand affectionately. “He doesn’t have to go there, but I’m making sure he can if he wants.”

Kun’s eyebrows shot up, “Wow. That’s some really forward thinking.”

You tilted your head curiously, “So why’d you choose to send Junyi here?”

“It was the closest to my place.”

“Practical, that’s more than fair.”

“Speaking of, Junyi and I should get going, we have to pick up a couple things from the store for dinner tonight and buddy already looks like he’s not going to last the two block walk there.” He looked down at his son, who was very quiet, glassy eyes fixed on his feet.

You nodded in understanding, “Of course, Binnie and I have a wine night planned.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“Oh, Binnie gets grape juice and I have red wine in matching cups. He likes to feel included.”

“Does he get a matching kiddie charcuterie board too?” Kun chuckled to himself as he hoisted Junyi up onto his hip.

“No, he just takes what he wants off of mine.”

He gave you a blank stare, “I can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg or not.”

“Look, he insists on trying whatever I have, and he ends up liking a lot of it,” you shrugged. “He’s the only 3-year-old I know who asks for tapenade as a snack.”

“You’re being serious?” He checked again.

“Yes,” you laughed. Then, before you knew it, the next words coming out of your mouth were, “You know, you and Junyi should join Binnie and I for a charcuterie night. I’ll prepare actual kid-friendly stuff, too, for Junyi.”

Kun’s head jerked back just the slightest, and he blinked a couple times before asking, “Uh, just you and Woobin?”

“Yeah, is— Would that, uh, be a problem?” The offer had felt perfectly normal and natural for you to make in the moment, but his reaction was making you second guess and stammer. You rushed to tack on, “We can— It’ll be for the fundraising committee, you know.”

“Right, right, of course.” His voice was filled with shaky relief.

“Of course,” you echoed, offering a strained smile.

“As long as that’s not a problem for—for you.”

“Why would it be a problem for me? I invited you.”

“I don’t— That sounds great, thank you, Y/N.”

Desperately wanting to get out of the plane crash that you had inadvertently taken this conversation into, you readjusted your purse on your shoulder decidedly, “Of course. Uhm, well, we won’t hold you two up from the store anymore, it looks like Junyi’s about to fall asleep on you right now. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kun looked down at Junyi’s head that had been resting against his chest, the boy’s eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Oh, God, there he goes. Bye, Y/N, Woobin!”

And the man was around the corner before Woobin could even lift his little hand to wave.

“So what’s the big deal, Y/N?”

“Well because I feel stupid now, Sooyoung,” you ranted to your friend over the phone that night as you washed up the dishes from dinner. “It felt like I was maybe finally getting my first like, parent friend, you know? And then he got all weird as soon as I invited him to hang out. I wasn’t being weird, was I? It was practically a playdate invite!”

Woobin had been put to bed a few minutes ago, and you were recounting the horrible nosedive that your conversation with Kun had taken, needing to know that you weren’t crazy.

“Y/N…” Sooyoung’s voice was patient as it came through your speakers. “Now, I can only guess, because I am, as we know, not a parent friend. But… is he married?”

 “Huh?” The plate in your hand nearly slipped out of your soapy grip.

“Wedding ring, seen one?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember if you’d ever really looked at Kun’s hands that closely, “Uh, not that I can remember?”

“Okay. You ever met the mom?”

“No, it’s always Kun who picks Junyi up.”

“Has a mom or another parent or partner ever been mentioned at all?”

“Sooyoung, the point,” you requested sternly, having a sneaking suspicion as to what it was.

“I’m just saying, maybe he got all weird because he thought you were flirting.”

“Oh my God,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair before realizing that it was still soapy. “God damn it!”

“Y/N?”

You grabbed some paper towels to clean the suds off your head, “Yeah, still here, sorry.”

“Anyway… is he cute?”

“SooSoo, I don’t even think I could flirt on purpose at this point,” you chuckled cynically, going back to your chore. “That muscle’s long shriveled up. I just need to time skip to being married with two kids, I think.”

Your friend laughed along with you, “Fair. But, that doesn’t sound like a no. Kinda sounds like avoiding the question, actually.”

“Sooyoung.”

“Ooh, you gonna send me to my room?” She taunted you, and you could hear her pout through the phone. “Put me in time out?”

“You’d like that, you little freak,” you snickered, picking up your next dish.

That Saturday afternoon you and Woobin had welcomed Kun and Junyi into your apartment with giddy nerves. Woobin was excited, and you were excited for him. This would be pretty much his first playdate with a kid that he wasn’t related to. And you had all the nerves, as this was your first time having a parent friend over, too. Not to mention that Sooyoung’s words were still bouncing around in the back of your head. When Kun held out a bottle of red wine to you with his left hand, you looked extra hard at his fingers— yep, no ring.

“Oh, Kun, you didn’t have to,” you took it from him gladly, ushering the two of them further into your home.

“You’re hosting and making us a charcuterie board. I figured wine was appropriate,” he explained.

“Well, thank you. This is perfect.”

Woobin was right where you’d left him in the living room on his playmat among his toys.

“Binnie,” you said, waiting until he looked up at you before continuing, “Mr. Qian and Junyi are here, so we’re going to eat now, remember?”

He nodded, immediately standing up and beginning to shovel toys off to one side of his mat. You helped him slide the mat to the corner of the room.

“Uh, we’re just going to eat around the coffee table, if that’s alright,” you explained, gesturing to the cleared table in the middle of the living room.

“Yeah, of course,” Kun nodded.

“Great, great. Dining table kind of has a partially built LEGO set on it right now,” you chuckled as you set the wine bottle down. “I’m going to grab everything from the kitchen, be back in a second.”

“Oh, I’ll help.”

“No, that’s okay, I’ve already got a little helper,” you held a hand out expectantly towards your son. Woobin immediately grabbed your hand, looking up at you. You gave Kun a quick smile, “Be back in a sec.”

In the kitchen, you handed Woobin his spill-proof cup, then another for Junyi. You fit two wine glasses by the stems and a corkscrew in one hand, and grabbed the charcuterie board with the other. Gently nudging your toddler ahead of you, the two of you headed back out to the living room, where your guests were waiting.

Kun and Junyi had sat down on one side of the table, and you gently placed the food down in front of them, then one wine glass in front of Kun. You looked to your son, who handed the correct cup to Junyi.

“It’s just water,” you informed the dad. “We have juice too, if he can have it. I never know about allergies and the like so I didn’t want to assume.”

“Juice?” Woobin looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Yours is already grape juice, Binnie,” you informed him with a head pat.

Kun rubbed his son’s back, “Water’s fine for him, he had a juice box this morning. Thanks.”

You and Woobin sat opposite from the father and son, Woobin immediately clambering into your lap. As you went to uncork the wine, Kun looked over the board in front of you all. You had made sure to prepare some kid-friendly options in one corner in addition to your usual refined spread.

“This all looks fantastic, Y/N. Thank you, seriously,” Kun smiled, and you swore that was the first time you’d noticed a deep dimple appear on both of his cheeks.

You poured first for him, then yourself, “Of course. Thank you two for coming over, Woobin and I were both excited to host for someone. Right, Binnie?”

“What, Mommy?” Woobin looked up at you with a scrunched nose.

“‘Host.’” You repeated the unfamiliar word for him, then clarified your question, “Are you excited to have Junyi and Mr. Qian over?”

“Oh! Yes!” He nodded his head so fast you could feel the rest of his little body shake in your lap. “Can I show Junyi my room, Mommy?”

“After you two eat some, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Did you hear that, Junyi? After you eat, you and Woobin can play.” Kun gently prodded his son, then looked up at you apologetically when all the child did was yawn. “Sorry, he just woke up from a nap before coming over.”

“That’s okay,” you giggled, cutting off a piece of cheese and pressing it onto a cracker, then making another serving of the same cheese and cracker. You handed one to Woobin, keeping the other for yourself.

Woobin eagerly took a bite of the cheese and cracker you’d given him, washing it down with his grape juice.

Kun offered a bear-shaped cookie out to Junyi, who shook his head. The dad sighed, and pointed at a banana slice, then blueberry, then cheddar cheese slice that you’d cut into small star shapes. They all got head shakes.

“Are you hungry at all, buddy?”

“Yes!”

“Then what do you want? Ms. Y/L/N made sure to put out all that food just for you. I don’t think you want what Daddy is eating, buddy. It’s grown-up food.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, unsure of if you should speak up. It seemed like they both needed help, but you weren’t one to try to interject your own parenting if it wasn’t asked for.

Junyi squirmed in his dad’s arms for a moment before mumbling, “But Woobin’s eating it…”

Meanwhile Woobin had in fact helped himself to a kalamata olive, pre-pitted, happily munching away.

Kun seemed at a loss, rubbing at his brow, and you finally decided to jump in.

“Junyi, you can try some, too,” you told him encouragingly, leaning forward and reaching over the board. “Do you want to try the cheese Woobin was eating or the olive he just had? Or both?”

“Cheese, please.”

You cut off a small piece of the gouda, “Here you go.”

He took it in his small hands, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

You watched in amusement as Junyi ate the cheese, his features lighting up.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes! Can I try the olive?”

“Hey…” Kun’s voice held a slight warning as he pinched his son’s side.

“Can I try the olive please?”

“Thank you.” The dad patted the boy’s head before reaching around him for the glass of wine on the table.

You handed him an olive, both you and Kun watching with interest as he popped it into his mouth whole. Junyi’s face immediately screwed up in disgust. Without missing a beat, Kun held up a cupped palm with another short sigh, letting his son spit the food back out. Trying to hold back your giggles, you handed the dad a napkin.

“Thanks,” he accepted it, depositing the olive into the paper, and wiping his hand off.

After some more broadening of Junyi’s horizons—to mixed results—the board was mostly clear, and the kids had declared themselves full.

“Can I show Junyi my room now?” Woobin asked excitedly.

“Sure, Binnie. You two can go play,” you nodded, and he immediately scrambled off your lap. You held out a hand for him to use to balance himself as you kept talking, “Mr. Qian and I have some work to do, so we’ll be in here if you need us, okay?”

“Okay!” Both toddlers said in unison.

“Hey, look here,” Kun stopped his son before he could leave the room. The father waited until the boy was looking him in the eye before continuing, “Remember what we talked about before coming over? All week?”

Junyi nodded fervently.

“Good. Go have fun, buddy,” he ruffled his son's hair.

You watched the two of them speedwalk out excitedly, Woobin explaining the house rule of not being allowed to run because it’s not safe as they went.

Then it was just you and Kun. Sooyoung’s words echoed in the back of your mind.

“Alright, let me grab my laptop, then we can get to work,” you declared, getting to your feet.

A few hours later and the two of you had made good progress, only interrupted by the kids a few times here and there, mostly them wanting to show off toys or coloring pages, or Junyi had wandered in at one point seemingly just to make sure Kun was still there.

You had been adding something to your word document of notes when you realized that your house had been eerily quiet for too long. Fingertips hovering over the keys, you exchanged a suspicious look with Kun.

“Too quiet?” He asked knowingly.

“Yeah…” You frowned, setting your computer aside to get up.

Both of you treaded through your home until you got to Woobin’s bedroom. The door was open, and you were alarmed for a moment when you didn’t see either boy anywhere on the floor playing. Until you recognized two lumps under the covers of his toddler bed, Woobin and Junyi looking like they were going to sleep for the next hundred years or so.

“Oh, god, I am so sorry,” Kun shook his head, seeming about to go in there and grab his son.

You were between him and the room, however, and quickly turned the lights off and shut the door. “It’s okay, Kun. They just tuckered themselves out. That’s good.”

Latching onto his elbow, you pulled him back towards the living room, catching a glance at the time on the microwave as you went through the kitchen.

“Damn, it’s not even Binnie’s normal bedtime yet,” you chuckled.

You didn’t let go of Kun until you had pulled him back down onto the couch, and then held his (second) glass of wine back out to him pointedly. He had a fond smile as he took it from you, and you happily accepted your victory as you picked yours back up too. You left your laptop on the coffee table, shifting to entirely face Kun as you raised your glass to your lips.

Kun took a sip.

You took a sip.

“Do you want to ask me something, Y/N?” Kun scratched the back of his neck.

“Mm, sorry,” you apologized with a chuckle. “I zoned out on your face there, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he laughed.

“I was thinking, though.”

“What about?”

“You’re a Director of Sales…”

“Supposedly.”

“Supposedly,” you repeatedly humorously before moving on with your question. “Do you think we’ve got a good chance at getting a donor for the preschool? If our proposal is approved by the PTA on Wednesday, of course.”

You had expected some kind of business musings, or serious answer from Kun, but instead you watched with concern as his brow furrowed, his fingers drummed along his knee, and he suddenly became fidgety, shifting around in his seat. He stayed quiet, once again scratching at the back of his neck, squinting one eye closed, then the other.

“Kun?” You said his name hesitantly.

“Sorry,” he shot you a familiar, frazzled smile that reminded you of when he was getting overwhelmed at the Bake Sale booth by himself. “I uhm, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” you reassured him. “I was just curious, it’s not life or death that you know everything all the time.”

He didn’t even seem to hear you as he stood up, setting his wine glass down on the table. The dad began pacing back and forth in front of your couch, his hands laced together behind his neck.

“I’m good at my job.”

You would’ve sworn he wasn’t talking to you, except his wide, stressed eyes snapped up to you after he said that.

“I’m not your boss. You don’t need to convince me, Kun,” you said slowly.

“I know, just— with all this, it’s stuff that I should be good at, it’s right up my alley. But it’s for Junyi, and I want to be the best dad I can be for him that I just end up jumping into doing things without actually thinking about them first because other people are telling me that’s what I need to do to be a good dad. I know how to be a good Director of Sales. I don’t know how to be a good dad.”

“You don’t need to know everything,” you reiterated strongly, hoping he actually listened this time. “I don’t know all the secrets for being a good mom. I just know how to be Woobin’s mom. You don’t need to know all the secrets to being the best dad ever. The only thing you need to worry about is being Junyi’s dad. Does that seem a bit more manageable?”

Kun’s pacing slowed to a stop in front of you, “Well, I guess.”

“So, the next time somebody is trying to sell you on some ‘Dad Thing,’ stop, breathe, and think: Is this what I, Qian Kun, as Junyi’s dad, need to do, to be?”

“Okay…” he looked at you skeptically, closing his eyes for a moment. You watched as his shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath.

“…Are you doing it right now?”

“Well how else am I supposed to decide if this is a good thing to do or not?”

You let out a hearty laugh, “No, that’s perfect, Kun, go ahead.”

He closed his eyes again, and you watched with fond amusement as his eyebrows quirked up and down with his thoughts. You took another sip of your wine before he had finished, and he opened his eyes once more, giving you a firm nod, “Okay, yes, I think that’s a thing that Junyi would need me to do.”

“Great,” you smiled at him, tilting your wine glass out to him.

He picked his back up and clinked it to yours in a little cheers. You tipped the remainder of your drink back in one go.

“Oh, that was good,” you declared. “Thanks, Kun.”

“Of course, Y/N. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Like I said, Binnie and I were both really excited to host,” you took your empty glass into the kitchen to start cleaning up. “I don’t know if this is bad, but he hasn’t really had a lot of play dates that weren’t like his cousins or something.”

“Junyi neither,” Kun admitted.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” You asked, starting to stack the plates. “Kid, and work, and family, and friends, and everything else. And then you’re supposed to be in charge of your kid’s social life too?”

You’d turned your back on him to bring the plates into the kitchen, expecting to hear his response to your question, but you were just met with silence. After depositing the dishes in the kitchen, you walked back out to the living room, alarmed to see that Kun had taken to pacing again.

Keeping a calm demeanor yourself, you kept going about your task, grabbing the charcuterie board, the last thing that needed to be tidied up. You had just started back towards the kitchen when Kun broke his silence.

“Junyi’s mother left us.”

You were so glad you had your back to Kun so he couldn’t see your rueful wince. Oh, you were so going to regret this.

Relaxing your features into a more sympathetic frown, you turned around to face him, “I’m very sorry to hear that, Kun.”

This was going to be a lot, you could sense it, so you set the charcuterie board back down on your breakfast bar.

“So just know that however hard it is for you and Woobin’s dad, it’s like ten times harder for me, and that’s why I’m always—”

You had stopped listening to him, however, your brain turning to white noise after the phrase ‘Woobin’s dad.’

“Wait, do you think I’m married?” You blurted out over him.

“Well, no, I can see that you don’t have a ring,” Kun gestured down to your hands. “But a boyfriend or another significant other. I’m doing this solo and—”

“I’m a single parent too!”

“What?” He seemed dumbfounded.

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to laugh or cry more at how ridiculous this was.

“Woobin’s dad was a one-night stand! I can’t remember the guy’s name, or what he looks like. Couldn’t find him if I wanted to. I don’t have a partner now, either. What on Earth made you think I was anything other than a single mom? You’re in my home!” You gestured around wildly to where there were multiple pictures of your family, of you and Woobin, but none of you, Woobin, and any man that could reasonably be considered his father.

“Well you’re just— you’ve got— at the meeting— you’re so put together,” Kun stammered out, his voice getting smaller and smaller. He ran a hand through his hair, “You’re not falling apart at the seams like I am.”

“Kun.” You grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping his frenzied pacing. “Look me in the eye.”

It wasn’t really like he had a choice, you were now holding his face just a couple inches from yours, but he still followed your command.

“Good,” you praised him, keeping your voice soothing. “I want you to take three deep breaths with me.”

He followed along as you inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and finally exhaled again together.

“Alright, thank you,” your voice was still sweet and calm as you ran your hands back down to his shoulders. “Now… why the fuck do you think I am more put together than you, Qian Kun?”

“Everything,” he breathed out, hanging his head.

“God, Kun,” you sighed, seizing him by the wrist. “Come on.”

You led him into your dining room, where there was in fact a half-built LEGO set on your dining room table. But that wasn’t your goal. On the bookshelf in there, you grabbed a specific picture frame, and took it and Kun back to the living room.

Sitting down side-by-side with Kun on the couch, you held the picture out in front of the two of you. It was of you and Woobin just over three years ago now, the first night you came home from the hospital. Your mother had taken it. He was swaddled in his baby blue blanket, all chubby cheeks, and you looked dead tired, but an excited sparkle was still in your eyes as you grinned down at your son.

“Look, Kun. I used to feel like that too. All the time. Almost every day when I was pregnant,” you relayed to him.

“But not anymore?” He questioned hesitantly.

“Sometimes. But not like before. Because I realized that I’m not doing this by myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may be a single mom, but I’m not alone, I have Binnie. And isn’t that the whole point? To be there for them? To make sure they know they’re not doing it alone either?”

Kun was quiet, his eyes still focused on the picture.

You continued, “I’m lucky enough to have my parents as a good support system, and some friends I can call up in case of emergency too. But I remember when I found out I was going to have Woobin, and I decided to keep him, I was scared of doing it by myself. Terrified, might be a better word.”

“When I came home from the hospital with him, my mom stayed with us for the first couple weeks.” You tapped the frame. “And the first night after she left, when it really was just the two of us, I was expecting this overwhelming sense of loneliness, and instead I just felt… full. I know I had all those birthing hormones in me, oxytocin and whatnot, but I looked down at him and I realized I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t ever going to be in all this because I have Binnie.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” Kun finally spoke again.

Thinking about your cousin’s approach to parenting, you guessed, “You’ve always thought about him as the adversary?”

“Not exactly. Junyi’s more like a tiny roommate that I have to dress and feed and keep from accidentally dying.”

“I’d love to see pizza and beer night at your place.” You joked, laughing when you managed to get a small smile out of Kun again. “Does Junyi get his in a sippy?”

“You jest, but I have poured myself two fingers of whiskey into a Winnie the Pooh sippy cup before because it was the only clean drinking vessel we had.” He rubbed at his temples, then clarified, “With the lid off.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” You patted his back, reaching across him to set the frame down on the side table by another one that was displayed there.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Kun’s eyes followed you as you sat back down, suddenly much closer than you remembered being before. Or were you just more aware of your proximity?

He patted your knee. “Seriously, that made me feel a lot better.”

“Of—” You cleared your throat to get rid of the squeak that was now in your voice. “Of course.”

Your skin tingled. Holy shit, you’d only had two glasses of wine spread across several hours, there was no way you should even be remotely buzzed. Kun was still looking at you. Were his eyes always this dark, this inviting?

God, he really was handsome. You’d always known that, thought that, since the moment you saw him in the lobby of the preschool. But something about now, having him in your home, so close, alone, you felt like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He wet his lips seemingly instinctually, and for a moment your brain short-circuited.

“Daddy?” A small voice made both you and Kun jump in your seats. You bit your tongue in surprise, hissing in pain as you and the dad simultaneously scooted away from each other. Junyi was standing at the threshold of the living room, rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.

“Hey, buddy.” Kun waved his son over with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

Junyi walked over, stopping in front of his dad, a small pout on his face. “I woke up and didn’t see you...”

“Oh, buddy,” Kun rubbed the toddler’s back. “Sounds like it’s about time for us to go home, huh?”

You smiled at the both of them, hoping they couldn’t see how frazzled you felt through it. “Of course, it’s late. I think we’re uh, we’re all tired. Junyi, is Woobin awake?”

The boy shook his head no.

“Okay, thank you.” You stood up, grabbing the wine glasses as Kun picked his son up.

You sent them off with a quick goodbye at your front door, and let out a deep sigh of relief once you’d closed it behind them. There weren’t many dishes to take care of in the kitchen, but you still took your time scrubbing at them, then tiptoed down the hall to check in on your son. He was in fact sound asleep, and you quietly went to retire in your own room for the night.

Except once you were in your own bed, sleep didn’t find you easy. You still saw Kun whether your eyes were open or closed, and you could feel the ghost of his warm hand on your skin. You rolled over into the center of the empty expanse of your bed, burying your face in your pillow, and let out a groan. You so needed to get laid. That’s all this was, you had set aside your own needs for your family’s and as soon as you saw one attractive guy, you couldn’t function. There were more important things to focus on with Kun, like the fundraising.

And so you went to sleep with thoughts of spreadsheets, Kun’s dark eyes, numbers, Kun’s warm hands on you, fundraising pitches, and Qian Kun running through your mind.

The fundraising pitch was a hit. Yours and Kun’s PTA committee was approved at the very same meeting, and you two were made co-directors effective immediately.

Afterwards, you, Kun, Woobin, and Junyi all walked out together, and while Kun seemed to be basking in the exhilaration of success, you were shell-shocked with a harrowing realization.

“Y/N?” Kun gently touched your arm, voice tinged with concern.

You looked up at him, horrified. “I’m a PTA mom now, aren’t I?”

He seemed to be holding back his laughter as he patted your shoulder. “I think you are. My condolences. Please don’t kill me.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can dispose of my co-director so easily now.”

He was grinning at you. “Ah, didn’t realize that title came with such high protections.”

You rolled your eyes, but found your mood lifting anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you mentioned that you had something exciting, but only if we got approval?”

“Right!” Kun let go of Junyi’s hand to reach into the interior pocket of his suit jacket. He retrieved a crisp cream envelope, about the size of his hand. His name was embossed on the front of it in gold lettering.

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “You got a wedding invite?”

“Close.” He opened the envelope, holding out the contents to you. You set Woobin down, murmuring a quiet request for him to stay by you all so you could take the card in both your hands. The front of the card had an unfamiliar crest on it, and you opened it to read the inside.

‘The United Publishing Society is honored to invite Mr. Qian Kun and a guest to their 89th Annual Benefactor Gala’

And below that was the date, time, location, and dress code. Black tie formal.

“A fancy networking event?” You questioned, handing it back to him.

“No,” he shook his head very seriously. “These are all the old industry bigwigs who want to get together without all that schmoozy networking and ladder-climbing stuff going on. You and I are probably going to be the youngest ones there by a couple decades.”

“Wait you and me?”

“Yep. ‘Mr. Qian Kun and a guest.’” He recited off the invite. “You’re my guest.”

“Uhm...”

“I happen to know that one of the guys attending is also on the board of a non-profit that donates exclusively to children’s causes. Building pediatric cancer centers, juvenile intervention centers, the whole nine. I think he’ll be our best bet for a donor.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “But you just said they want to get together without networking and all that kind of stuff. Why would we be any different?”

“It’s a charity gala, they’re already there to write checks anyway. We’re not going to be asking him for a job.”

It’s not you were exactly overflowing with any options. “When was that again?”

“What do we think?” You did a spin for your small audience of Woobin and Sooyoung. “Good enough for black tie formal?”

Tonight was the night of the gala Kun was taking you along to, and you sort of felt like you were going to throw up. And pass out. In that order. First of all, you had never been to a gala, you couldn’t remember if you had ever gone to something with a black tie formal dress code (you literally had to go out and buy this outfit), not to mention that you felt awful for having to ask your friend to babysit. But unfortunately your parents were out of town and all of your normal babysitters were busy. Sooyoung had already let you (jokingly) know that this was under duress, and that you owed her—despite turning down the money you offered her.

Sooyoung wolf-whistled at you, and you gave her a pointed look. Not the example you wanted to set for your son. Woobin looked up from his toys at the sound, and clapped for you.

“You look great, Y/N!” Your friend reassured you, and you were thankful that she reigned her mouth in around your kid. Typically, you would’ve gotten a much more explicit compliment from her. “Should be good for black tie. I mean, it’s not like you have any other option, right?”

“Right...” You groaned, turning back towards your room. “Hold on, let me put the shoes on so you can see those.”

You were sitting on your bed pulling your shoes on when you heard your doorbell ring. Your stomach dropped as you looked over at the time on your bedside clock. Shit, Kun was early. You should’ve anticipated that from the last time he was here.

“Soo! Can you get the door? I’m still putting my shoes on!” You yelled out through the apartment.

“Yep!” She called back.

You could vaguely hear the muffled voices of Sooyoung and Kun—and even Woobin at one point—but you were too focused on tugging your goddamn shoes on to care much about what they were saying. Just as you were finally standing up and straightening out your outfit, Sooyoung speedwalked into your bedroom, Woobin in her arms.

She had a smile filled with devilish delight on her face as she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to you, “That is Kun?”

“Huh? Yeah? Unless you let some strange man into my home that I don’t know,” you replied, bewildered. “Should I have asked you to ID him?”

“I take back everything I said, you stay out as long as you want tonight. All night even,” she suggested, gesturing wildly with one hand as the other kept your toddler propped up on her hip. She pinched his cheek fondly. “BinBin and I can have a sleepover, right, buddy?”

Your son’s face lit up with delight at the prospect. “Sleepover?!”

Well aware of what your friend was implying, you did your best to regulate your outer emotions and intonation as you addressed your kid. You kept your tone kind but firm, “No, Binnie, I’m sorry.” Focusing your gaze on your friend, you added pointedly, “Nobody’s having a sleepover tonight.”

“Y/N, come on. You’ve never denied yourself the finer things in life since becoming a mom. Why are you insisting on starting now?” Sooyoung sighed.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a gala to attend. For the fundraising committee I’m on.”

Walking through your apartment, you grabbed your purse from your dining room and finally found Kun in the foyer just a few steps from the front door. He was looking at a photo you had up on the wall, his back to you, so all you could see was his brown hair and dark suit.

“Hi, Kun!” You hoped you didn’t sound out of breath as you entered the room. Judging by the sound of footsteps behind you, Sooyoung had followed you in to see you off for the night.

Kun turned around at his name, hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed rather handsomely for the night in a tux with his hair neatly parted away from his face. But it was the starstruck smile on his face that made your skin warm up as he stopped in his tracks, just looking at you.

“Kun? You good?” You coughed awkwardly, well aware of your spectators.

“Sorry, sorry. Hello, Y/N.” He blinked and shook his head, stepping forward all the way to stand in front of you.

“You’ve already met my friend Sooyoung. She’s watching Woobin tonight for me.” You gestured to the two of them.

“So you two can take as long as you need!” She piped up oh-so-helpfully.

You turned to look at her with wide, pointed eyes.

 “You know, chatting people up for your fundraising, or whatever,” she tacked on innocently.

“Thank you, SooSoo. I’ll see you later.” You pecked your son on the forehead. “Goodnight, Binnie. Remember, Mommy will be back late so Aunt SooSoo is going to put you to bed, and you and me are going to eat breakfast together, okay?”

“But Aunt SooSoo said I was having a sleepover with her?”

“Aunt SooSoo was just joking, baby. I’m sorry, no sleepovers tonight,” you informed him with a heavy heart. Sooyoung set him down, and he toddled off towards the living room. Your friend went to follow him, and you grabbed her elbow to lean in to hiss in her ear, “I hope you’re happy, you owe Binnie a sleepover now.”

“And he’ll get one,” she whispered back. “As soon as you have one of your own.”

You shot her one final glare that she just retaliated with a wink, before letting her go and striding back over to Kun, who was waiting patiently by the front door.

“Everything okay?” He asked, concern on his features.

“Yeah, just making sure she knows Binnie's bedtime and to not give him any more juice.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “All good.”

“Good. You ready, then?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

You so were not ready, it turned out. Just a few minutes after arriving, milling around and taking in the grandeur of the ballroom with Kun, you were starting to feel dizzy. Kun had already seen a couple of people that he must have known, flashing them a charismatic smile and exchanging passing greetings. You, meanwhile, felt like a weight was pressing on your chest, and inhaled deeply through your nose to try to calm down.

“Woah, are you okay, Y/N?” Kun leaned in to ask you quietly.

“Yeah, fine,” you lied through your teeth. “Why?”

“You’ve got a death grip on my arm that you didn’t have thirty seconds ago.” He patted your hand that was on his upper arm.

Looking down, you saw that his suit jacket was crumpled in your fingers, and you consciously tried to loosen your grip, but couldn’t make yourself do it. Instead, you just stared at your locked hand.

“I’m a copy editor, Kun, I don’t really go to galas on the daily, so pardon me for being a little out of my element here,” you retorted, the words cutting through the air much harsher than you had intended. Taking another deep inhale and exhale, you added a whispered, “Sorry, sorry.”

“Come on, let’s get some air, hm?”

The gala had an outdoor area devoid of other guests, presumably due to the chilly nighttime air. Kun sat you down on a stone bench outside of the main courtyard area, out of sight from the large windows of the ballroom.

The pressure on your chest was gone, and with you breathing easier, the cynical, nervous thoughts could finally take center stage in your brain.

“God, this isn’t going to work! Why did we even come out here?” You cracked your knuckles anxiously. “How do we even ask for money without just sounding like children? ‘It’s not fair!’”

“If we find the right donor—and don’t use that tone of voice—that argument is actually going to be what resonates with them,” Kun responded calmly, standing in front of you with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Someone that cares about the kids, not about investing in an institution or whatever, will be moved by the fact that the preschool is being neglected financially.”

You chewed on the bottom of your lip. “Well damn, when you put it like that, I may just believe that you’re a Director of Sales, Qian Kun.”

“I thought the business card had convinced you.”

“Anybody can order a business card that says whatever they want.”

“That would’ve been extensive planning on my part.”

“Hey, you could’ve had it on hand to pick up women. There’s guys that do that.”

He seemed genuinely put-off and bewildered. “Wait really? That’s… That is just… loser behavior.”

“Though the fax number did point to it being real,” you continued, finally cracking a smile. “Dudes doing pick-up probably think it makes them look dorky.”

“What? People aren’t sexting via fax these days?” Kun joked, a grin tugging at his lips.

You were laughing too hard—and thus trying to quiet down your laughter—to respond to him, giving him the perfect leeway to continue. “What would you even call that? Saxing? Sexing?”

You were dizzy again, but this time it was light-headedness from laughing too hard, quite literally slapping your knee as you tried to calm yourself down.

Kun was chuckling as well, sliding in to sit next to you. “I take offense at the sentiment that fax machines are lame, by the way. I’ll have you know that’s my personal fax line on my business card. Not everyone gets their own.”

Finally having enough wits about you to form sentences again, you sat up straight to look him in the eye as you clarified, “Hey, I was saying that loser dudes who make fake business cards think that fax machines are lame. I think men with fax machines are sexy, especially personal fax lines.”

You went to nudge his shoulder teasingly, caught off-guard as you realized just how close he was to you. Even closer than the night on your couch, his dark eyes settling on your face, unabashedly drinking you in. Your breath hitched in your throat as you were suddenly surrounded by the intoxicating smell of his cologne. The cold air made the hair on your bare arms stand up—or maybe it was something else—and you found yourself pressing forward even closer towards Kun’s warmth.

“Y/N,” he murmured your name quietly. “Are you cold? We can go back inside.”

“No, just…” you took a deep breath, scooting in even closer to him, until you were pressed up side-to-side. “Stay right here? You’re warm.”

He uncertainly wrapped his arm around you. “Sure, sure. Of course.”

“And… Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, yeah.”

“I wasn’t crazy, right? On the couch the other night… Did you want to kiss me, too?”

“You-You wanted to kiss me?”

“I’m uh, a bit rusty at this kind of thing,” you admitted, your skin burning. “But I’m not completely imagining that there’s… something here, right, Kun?”

“You wanted to kiss me?” He repeated like a broken record.

You lightly snapped your fingers in front of his face. “Kun? My question? Or have I officially lost it, and this is like… going to make everything awkward for the fundraising committee?”

“No, no, I-I do—did want to kiss you. I thought I was making you uncomfortable,” he stumbled over his words sheepishly. “I’m uhm… also pretty rusty with this stuff.”

“You do want to kiss me? Or you did want to kiss me, past tense?” You clarified.

“Both! Uhm, I did, that night on the couch, and I still do, now…” He confessed weakly.

“Is there any reason that you shouldn’t? Like, is there somebody…?”

“No, there isn’t. Not at all.” Kun gulped. “What about you?”

“Nope, nobody, and Qian Kun, if you continue to talk about kissing me without actually doing anything, I might actually lose my mind,” you whispered, feeling hot, embarrassed, desperate tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

“God, sorry.” He cupped your cheek, turning your head and tilting your chin to be able to perfectly slot his lips with yours. The arm that was already wrapped around you just pulled you closer to him, as one of your hands grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket. You let out an embarrassing whimper as soon as his mouth meshed with yours, and he murmured another hushed ‘sorry’ against your lips. If he hadn’t just told you that he was rusty, you wouldn’t have had any idea as your head spun, your heart beat out of your chest wildly like a cartoon, and you were definitely crying tears of relief into what you were seriously considering quite possibly your best kiss ever.

It was your turn to mutter an apology as your tears turned the kiss salty, but as you pulled back to do just that, you saw the glistening of Kun’s eyes in the champagne tinted light filtering out from the ballroom, turning his tears golden as they slipped down his cheeks. Instead, you just pressed your forehead to his in silent understanding, looping your arm around his neck to hold him even closer, if that was possible.

PART II: you got my heartbeat to play to your time

Spotting Kun in the lobby of the preschool, you immediately lit up and rushed to sit down beside him on one of the benches. He offered you a tired smile and peck on the cheek in greeting, scooting to make room for you.

“Brr, it’s fucking freezing out there,” you shuddered, grabbing his hand to press it against the cold tip of your nose. “That’s just from the 30-second walk from the parking lot to here! Are you two going to survive the walk home? You sure you don’t want me to drive you? Well, I don’t have another carseat for Junyi, but he could sit on your lap in the backseat, I think? Better than freezing to death, right?”

“We’ll be okay, Y/N,” Kun reassured you, patting your leg before resting his hand there. “Thank you though, love.”

The subject of the cold suddenly made you remember something else, and you perked up, “Oh, Woobin and I were at the store yesterday and he needed new gloves, and I saw that bun’s were getting a little worn out when we went out last weekend too—”

“Whose?” Kun asked, furrowing his brows.

“Junyi’s. Look.” You held up the pair that matched Woobin’s, save for the pattern, which had little bunnies on them instead of whales. “Aren’t they adorable? God, I just love their tiny hands. I’ll return them if this is weird and I overstepped a line though. I tried to call you to see if this was okay, but the store was just a dead zone, and I couldn’t get a signal.”

A sheepish smile punctuated the end of your nervous rambling. You and Kun hadn’t been dating for very long, just a few months, and you were still getting a feel for boundaries when it came to your relationship with each other and each other’s kids. You’d just started spending the night at each other’s houses with both kids there—already a big step, in your opinion. Taking the initiative on buying Junyi a new pair of gloves had seemed perfectly natural when the thought came to you, but you didn’t want it to feel like you were rushing things to Kun, or taking a place that wasn’t yours to take—and hadn’t been offered to you—in Junyi’s life.

“Oh, no, Y/N, these are perfect, thank you.” He accepted them, a genuine, grateful smile on his face as he tucked them away in his jacket pocket, then squeezed both of your hands. “Junyi will love them. He did need new gloves; I just hadn’t made it out to the store yet.”

“Then what is making you make that face?”

“Since when has Junyi been a bunny?”

“Were you not intentionally buying him a bunch of bunny-patterned stuff?” You questioned, tilting your head.

“Huh?”

“His backpack, his stuffie that he brings to school, his pajamas that he wore at my place last weekend, and I’ve seen him in like at least three different bunny t-shirts. I thought the theming was intentional.”

Kun took a long, slow blink. “Oh… it was not.”

“Kun… are bunnies your favorite animal?” You teased.

“No! I think…?”

“God, long day at work?” You surmised, stroking the back of his head soothingly.

He leaned into your touch, letting out a disgruntled groan, “Long week. Scratch that, long month.”

“Mm, anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you can clone me, or stop time…”

“Okay, new question: Anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Even just something small?”

“Can you and Woobin come over tonight? I know we weren’t planning on it, but—”

“Yes, Kun, we can come over tonight,” you agreed, using your free hand to grab one of his.

“Thank you,” he sighed, squeezing your hand back.

The door to the boys’ classroom opened then, and you nudged Kun’s shoulder with yours. He nodded, the two of you standing up together. As soon as you stepped foot into the classroom, your shins were knocked into by one small body, then another.

“Oh, hey bun! Hey bubbles!” You greeted the kids, wobbling a bit as they had each latched onto one of your legs.

Kun, who had caught you by the elbow to steady you, was looking at the three of you with that same tired but heartfelt smile, “Guys, am I just chopped liver?”

Junyi squinted up at his dad curiously, “What’s liver?”

“Yeah, what’s liver, Mr. Kun?” Woobin echoed.

“He means he wants a hug too, boys,” you explained. “And he’s been working really hard, so I think he should get a really big one.”

They immediately detached themselves from you to throw their little arms around Kun’s legs instead.

“You should ask for one next time, Mr. Kun!”

“Yeah, Daddy! Instead of talkin’ about liver and stuff.”

“Yeah, Mr. Kun, just ask for one next time,” you repeated teasingly.

Kun looked at the two kids with that same fond, resigned smile. “Right, my bad, boys. I will just ask for one when I need one next time.”

As the kids hug-attacked Kun, you went over to their forgotten cubbies to pick up their respective whale and bunny backpacks, giving Ms. Xu and Mrs. Chen friendly waves of acknowledgement. When you returned, Kun had managed to get a kid under each arm, both toddlers giggling as they were held like sacks of potatoes.

“Are you carrying them out like that?” You asked with a tilted head.

“Maybe,” Kun joked. “It’s a good arm workout.”

“Yeah, for all three of you,” you referred to how the boys were clinging onto his forearms against gravity as well.

“Mm, the idea of buff three-year-olds terrifies me,” he declared, lowering the kids. “Alright, time to let go, guys.”

You reached into Junyi’s backpack to secure the little tiny puffer jacket that was inside, “It’s a bit chilly out, bun-bun, and you and your dad are walking home, so come on, you’re putting your coat on.”

“Okay,” he stuck his arms out for you to help put it on him.

“Oh,” Kun pulled the new pair of gloves out of his own pocket, showing them off to his son. “Look, buddy. Ms. Y/N got you a new pair of gloves.”

“Oh wow, thank you!” He beamed up at you.

“You’re welcome,” you grinned back, kneeling down in front of him to zip up the jacket for him. “Woobin has a pair just like it but with whales, so you two can match next time he wears his.”

Woobin looked down at his bare hands with a thoughtful frown. “Where are my gloves, Mommy?”

“They’re probably in your backpack, baby. You and I are driving home so you don’t have to put them on if you don’t want to, because your hands won’t be getting cold outside like Junyi’s.”

“Oh. I want to put them on, please.”

“Here, I’ll get them,” Kun unzipped the backpack that was on your shoulder and began rooting through it.

“Thank you.” You murmured. As he got the gloves and helped Woobin put them on, you went over the plans for the rest of the night with your son, “We’re going to go home and get a few things, and then we’re going to Mr. Kun and Junyi’s house for a sleepover, okay?”

“Okay!”

Kun had finished tugging on the gloves then, “There you go, Bin.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kun!” Woobin chirped, then reached out for the other toddler. “Junyi, we match!”

“We match!” Junyi giggled back, grabbing Woobin's whale-patterned hand with his own bunny-patterned one.

You stood up, covering your mouth in delight as you whispered to Kun, “I’m literally going to cry.”

“Way ahead of you,” he whispered back, and when you looked over, you did in fact see a single tear rolling down one of his cheeks.

“Oh, oh my God, Kun.” You wiped it away with your thumb. “What’s—”

“Talk later?”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded, looking around at the fact that you were still very much in the boys’ classroom, and had other things to do. “Right, of course. Talk later.”

Kun reached up to grab your hand that had wiped the tear away, squeezing it and offering you a smile. He dried his eyes with the sleeve of his other hand, then called for the kids, “Come on, boys. We’ve got to go. You’ll see each other in just a bit.”

Getting Woobin packed up to spend the night at Kun and Junyi’s was easy, and so was getting the two of them fed once you were there. The difficult part was getting even a single second of semi-private time with Kun to actually talk. The two boys wanted to include both of you in every single thing they did tonight, which was typically endearing, but the exhaustion that plagued Kun’s features the while time still concerned you. It wasn’t until they were finally asleep in Junyi’s room, and you and Kun had cleaned up from dinner, that you finally had an opportunity.

He pulled you over to the couch, and you sat down, expecting one of your normal grown-up, mature, face-to-face talks to happen now. You’d had a few already, about your expectations when you started dating, about the first time you spent the night at the other’s house like this, whenever there was any need to clear the air. Both you and Kun agreed that you were both at the point in your life where you couldn’t deal with the kind of tip-toeing uncertainty of young relationships, you needed something serious, with open, honest communication, especially around the kids.

But instead, Kun practically collapsed on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your middle. You cradled his head close to you, running a hand through his hair and stroking a thumb over his cheekbone.

“What’s wrong, Kun?” You murmured. “You seem… drained.”

“I am,” he admitted plainly, defeat in his tone. “Just absolutely… fucking dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, love,” you replied quietly.

“But you were such a big help today, thank you.”

“I don’t know how bringing another toddler into your home helped with that, but okay,” you said skeptically, still playing with his hair.

“Having a second set of hands to help with dinnertime, and play time, and bathtime, and bedtime…” His chest heaved with another big sigh. “And just having you around… makes everything easier.”

He reached up to grab one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours. The grip he had made you think he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. “I don’t want you to leave, Y/N.”

“Kun, I’ll stay for as long as you need me to,” you promised. “A couple nights, a week, whatever you need. Life is hard, especially trying to do everything on your own. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so how about you take the boys out and I’ll tidy up around here, okay?”

“Forever?”

“What?”

“Will you stay forever?”

You stared down at your interlocked hands, the one in his hair stilling. “Are you asking…”

“You said you’d stay however long I need you to. I always need you with me, Y/N. Will you two move in with us?” Kun asked, placing a couple of long kisses to your hand. “Or we can get a new place. I just… can’t imagine having to do this without you. Both of you. All four of us.”

You hummed, your hand resuming its ministrations in his locks. “We’ll probably need a new place… but yes, Kun. We’ll move in with you.”

He quickly kissed his way up your arm to your neck and face, until he was hovering above you, a breathless smile on his features. “Really?”

“I’ll need to talk to Binnie…” You warned. “And like I just said, we’ll probably need to look for a new place, since the boys are used to having their own rooms and we can afford it combined. It won’t be instantaneous, but yes… we can start planning it.”

Then Kun was showering your face in kisses, and you giggled, cupping his face fondly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Kun,” you pulled him into a soft peck, before his raining kisses started going even lower, below your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. When his hand slipped under your shirt, you looked at him suspiciously. “Hey… I thought you were absolutely fucking dead?”

“Mysterious second wind,” his words were muffled against your skin, but you could feel the sly smirk on his lips.

“Alright, well do you think this second wind can at least be moved into your bedroom?”

“Y/N, five weeks?!” Kun exclaimed, making you immediately slap a hand over his mouth and look over your shoulder at the two freshly-washed four-year-old boys sitting down to enjoy their post-bathtime show.

“Keep your voice down!” You chastised him in a harsh whisper. The living room was open to the kitchen in your new place, where you and Kun were huddled having your fervent back and forth at the moment. You’d just so very casually dropped the fact that your period had been five weeks late, at perhaps not the most opportune time, washing the dishes, but really you hadn’t meant for it to be a huge deal.

After you took your hand off his mouth, he replied back much more quietly, “Sorry, I’m not upset with you, love, I’m surprised. Why haven’t you taken a test?”

“With work and both the boys’ birthdays, then them starting VPK, I just haven’t had time to go get one.”

“Let’s go get one now then.”

“What, a family trip to the corner store to buy a pregnancy test?” You snorted at the idea, holding a dry plate out to Kun to put away.

He didn’t take the plate, staring at you as he repeated, “Family?”

“You know what I meant…” You whined, putting the dish down on the counter and covering your face in embarrassment. That was the first time either of you had referred to the four of you as one family unit.

He wrapped his arms around you, letting you bury your face in his chest. “I don’t think you even know what you meant, lovey.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” Your brain was way too scrambled at the moment, preoccupied with trying extremely hard to not think about what being late could possibly mean, what a test could possibly say.

“I’m serious, come on. We’ll buy the boys some ice cream, they’ll be none the wiser.”

“Fine, I need to put some real pants on,” you pushed off his chest, gesturing to the dingy sleep shorts were you in. “Can you—”

“Get the boys’ shoes on. On it.” He nodded firmly.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Kun, I can’t pee with you grinning at me like that. It’s weird.”

With Woobin and Junyi preoccupied with their character popsicles and a movie in the living room, you and Kun were in the small hallway bathroom closest to the living room. It also happened to be the boys’ shared bathroom, the walls covered in vinyl, removable stickers of cartoon characters smiling down at you as unnervingly as Kun was currently. It was far too many eyes for what you were doing, peeing on a drugstore pregnancy test.

“Sorry, sorry,” your boyfriend apologized, diverting his eyes and covering his mouth, though he was clearly still beaming into his hand.

Finally done with that part of the test, you set it atop the box that was sitting on the bathroom counter, washing your hands and dropping back down onto the toilet seat.

“And now we wait,” you declared with a heavy chest.

“Okay.” Kun nodded resolutely, allowing his eyes to return to you now that you’d spoken again, still absolutely glittering in the harsh fluorescents.

“Now would be a good time to talk, about if that’s a plus. You’re still grinning like a maniac, so I have a guess as to what you’re about to say.”

He sighed almost dreamily as he looked up at you, resting his cheek in his hand. “You’re just… the most beautiful woman in the world to me, right now. And I love you, so much.”

“This, me sitting on the toilet in our tiny hallway bathroom, having just peed on a stick in front of you,” you pointed between the two of you, “is one of the least romantic situations I think we’ve ever been in. But, I love you too, you weirdo.”

“That wasn’t my answer, by the way. You go first, you’d be the one carrying any baby of ours, after all.”

“After Woobin, I told myself that if I had another, I’d do it…” You trailed off as you fumbled around for the right word.

“Right?” Kun supplemented hesitantly.

“No, no, I don’t think Woobin was wrong. That’s one thesaurus entry away from ‘mistake,’ as cheesy as that might sound. But, I told myself that I’d do my next one different. I’d be married to someone, we’d have planned the pregnancy over multiple conversations, talked about kids before we even got married in the first place, I’d have talked to Binnie about it, made sure he had the emotional space for a little sibling, too.”

“And we haven’t even talked about getting married…” He breathed out in realization.

You narrowed your eyes. “Qian Kun, do you think for even a second, that I would be with you if I didn’t think that I could marry you one day? After everything you’ve learned about me? After that whole toilet bowl confessional I just gave literally ten seconds ago? Consider this the marriage talk warning. It’s coming, and when it does, I expect you to bring notes.”

“Good point, I’m sorry for doubting you, lovey. I eagerly await the marriage talks, and I’ll make sure to do my research ahead of time.”

“Good.”

“So that’s how you want to do it. What about if that test is positive? Right now?” He returned you to the present, his voice gentle, as you were reminded of the very real, very possible, tangible now that you were being faced with.

You let your head drop forward into your hands as you tried to pick apart the tangled ball that was your thoughts and feelings. Thinking back to when you were doing this by yourself the first time in your workplace bathroom, when you found out you were pregnant with Binnie… you distantly remembered how you felt when you saw that double line, that positive result. There was definitely anxiety, yes, but more than that you remembered an excitement bubbling up and overflowing on top of that the longer that it registered.

This time, you weren’t feeling any of that. Not because you didn’t love the idea of having a child with Kun, but… it just wouldn’t be the right time. The two of you had only recently moved in together, you were still getting used to enmeshing your two—or, four—separate lives into one, you hadn’t even been together for a year, Woobin and Junyi hadn’t been consulted whatsoever, not to mention they had just started VPK and would be going into primary school next year; Kun had just gotten a promotion at work, yes, but you had your eye on your own possible promotion, too. It just… wasn’t right. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally looked up at Kun sitting across from you in the narrow space of the hallway bathroom. You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, his image immediately swimming in your vision.

“Oh, hey, come here, lovey,” he gently ushered you down from your perch on the toilet seat cover onto the ground with him. He settled you in between his legs, wrapping his arms around you, “Sad cry or scary cry?”

You had the urge to smack his arm for treating you like one of the kids, but unfortunately, it was a really good communication tool.

“Goddamn,” you wept against his shirt, clinging onto him. “I don’t know, Kun. I don’t fucking know. It’s not a happy cry, though. And I don’t think that any kid should be brought into the world if their mom isn’t happy at the thought of them.”

He rubbed a hand up and down your back, not faltering for a moment as you spoke. When you were done, he started, “Look, Y/N. I’ll admit, the idea of having a baby with you kind of sent me to the stratosphere there for a second. But, I think that a baby is something that needs to be two enthusiastic yeses, or it’s a no. And you…” he pulled your face out of the crook of his neck to be able to look you in the eye. “Are clearly not enthusiastic nor a yes. So I’m not either. Okay?”

You sniffled, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, wiping at your tears. “Now, I think it’s been plenty of time. Are you ready to look at the test?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Kun stretched his arm out, fumbling along the top of the bathroom counter until he had secured the test in his hand. You turned in his arms, fully leaned against him, your back to his chest as he flipped the stick over for you two to read the results together.

Negative.

And you were crying again, but this time you knew that they were tears of relief.

“Oh, thank God,” you whispered, holding a hand over your mouth. “Oh… oh my God.”

“There we go,” Kun murmured, holding you to him by an arm slung over your waist. “Now, call me crazy, but I think we just manifested that negative pregnancy test result.”

You let out a choked laugh, “Would it be manifesting a negative or un-manifesting a positive?”

“Good question.”

He held a foot out until he could reach the step opener of the trash can, tossing the test into it. You sat there with him for who knows how much longer, until the cold of the tile finally seeped through your clothes, and your joints were aching from being curled up on your bathroom floor for so long.

“Oh shit, the boys are all by themselves in the living room,” you mumbled, beginning to detangle yourself from Kun.

“I’ll clean up in here. You get into some pajamas and then go see them, okay? They’ve been the normal amount of quiet, I think the movie’s got them sufficiently occupied, so take your time. I’ll be right behind you.” He reassured you, standing up after you did, and keeping a hand on the small of your back as you went to wash your hands again.

The remnants of the pregnancy test packaging were on the counter, not to mention the general disarray from your breakdown, and the fact that you hadn’t tidied up from the boys’ bathtime earlier that night either. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you could see that you weren’t in much better shape than the bathroom.

“Okay, yeah. Thank you, Kun.” Your voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper, and it didn’t need to be in the small, quiet space.

He pressed a long kiss to your temple before you left for your bedroom to change out of the clothes that you’d gone to the convenience store in. Putting on the comfiest pajamas you could find, you then shuffled out to the living room, which you were glad to see was in one piece. Tension you didn’t even realize you were carrying released from your shoulders when your eyes fell on the two kids sat on the couch, their attention glued to the screen.

You weren’t sure how long you had been standing there before Woobin finally turned his head to look at you. “Oh hi Mommy!”

“Hi, Ms. Y/N!”

“Hi, boys, can I join you?” You asked.

“Well, yeah!” Junyi said in the most ‘duh!’ tone you’d ever heard a four-year-old imitate. He patted the open space between the two of them. “We saved you a spot here.”

“Oh, thank you.” You sat down exactly where he had gestured, tucking your feet underneath you. Woobin immediately clambered onto your lap, and Junyi scooted in to snuggle into your other side.

“And when Daddy gets here, his spot is over here,” Junyi pointed to the remaining space between him and the arm of the couch. “And he can put the blanket on all of us.”

“Right, of course, bun,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around the two boys to hold them even closer to you.

Woobin touched a hand to your cheek, “Mommy, you’re crying. Sad cry, scary cry, or boo-boo cry?”

“Oh, no, baby, it's a happy cry,” you assured him, wiping at the couple of tears that had eked out again with your sleeve. “It’s because I love you all so much.”

“Happy cry,” he repeated, as if committing the term to memory.

Kun joined the three of you a few minutes later, sliding into his assigned seat and pulling a blanket over the four of you. Mindful of the child in between you two, you rested your head on his shoulder.

Against your instincts, you shut the front door quietly behind you as you came home that night. You’d gotten caught up at work with a deadline suddenly being moved up. You plopped your purse onto the kitchen table next to the huge LEGO set that you’d started with the boys last weekend as Kun got up from the couch to greet you. He was already in his pajamas, a stark contrast to the office wear you were still in.

“Hey, lovey,” he pecked your cheek, letting you snake both your arms around his waist and hold him closer. “How was work?”

You let out a low, exhausted groan into his shoulder. “Long. If I ever have to read another word again in my life, it’ll be too soon.”

“Then you’ll be very happy to hear that I already read the boys a bedtime story.”

“Shit, am I that late?” You sighed. “I know I told you I’d probably miss dinner but I didn’t mean for you to do bedtime all by yourself, too.”

“It’s okay, I know you would’ve been here if you could. The three of us managed for one night.”

“How was everything? Were they good for you?”

“Absolute angels.”

You lifted your head up to shoot him a disbelieving look. “Our sons? Are you sure you’ve got the right kids in there?”

Kun chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips this time. “You know us too well. Only convinced them to get in bed with bribery.”

“Great, what did you promise them? Extra hour of TV this weekend? Kun, please do not tell me you promised a new toy or—”

“Woah, woah, who do you think I am?” He snorted, clearly offended. “I just had to promise that you’d give them their goodnight kiss when you got home. They were very concerned about going to sleep without one.”

Relief immediately flooded your system, along with a warm fondness. “Oh, good. I’ll go hold up our end, then.”

“Before you do,” Kun held you by the waist to keep you from walking away yet. He lowered his voice, tone turning serious. “Woobin was asking for you before lights-out. Not just for his goodnight kiss, but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I have a feeling he might still be up when you go in.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll pop into his room second. Thanks for the heads-up.”

With a final pat on the cheek, you left Kun’s warm embrace and treaded down the hall that contained the boys’ bedrooms and shared bathroom. You slowly opened the door to Junyi’s room first. The room was pitch black save for the dwindling light from his glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars, and you crept up to his bedside. Just able to see the faint outline of him under his covers, you gently brushed away some of his hair and laid a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Night, bun-bun,” you murmured, then kissed his pudgy little cheek one more time before standing up. He didn’t stir, his breathing remained peaceful and as you ducked back out you closed the door even more quietly than you had opened it.

As soon as you pushed the door to Woobin’s room open, you knew he was awake. He was in a phase of sleeping with a night-light on, meaning that you could immediately see his eyes staring at you.

“Hi, Mommy,” he deadpanned, hands folded together over his stomach.

You entered the room, shutting the door behind you. “Hi, baby. What are you still doing up?”

He squirmed a little under the covers, refusing to meet your eyes as you came to sit on his mattress next to him. “Waiting for my goodnight kiss.”

“Oh, you could’ve gone to sleep,” you reassured him, moving his bangs out of the way of his forehead. “Mommy would’ve still come and given you your goodnight kiss.”

He was silent as you leaned down to smooch his forehead. Pulling back, you asked, “Is that all, Binnie?”

Woobin mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again for me? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I want to say something, but it’s after my bedtime…”

“Don’t worry, baby. I want to hear what you have to say. You can say it now.”

“I don’t want Junyi to be mad at me.”

“Why do you think Junyi would be mad at you?”

“You can’t tell them!” He suddenly exclaimed, pleading and desperate.

“Tell who? Junyi and Mr. Kun?” You asked, brow furrowing with confusion.

He nodded fervently, panic on his features.

“You remember our rules about sharing things?”

“If it’s about safety or respect, we all have to know,” he recited mournfully. “It’s not! I promise! I think…”

“How about you tell me, and I’ll tell you if it’s something we should tell everyone. I won’t get mad, and you and me can talk about it for as long as you want first. Does that sound okay?”

“Okay…”

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said soothingly, watching him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

“I-I want to call Mr. Kun ‘Daddy.’”

You couldn’t help but smile widely at him, taking your son’s hand in yours. “That’s wonderful, baby. I think it would make Mr. Kun really happy that you want to.”

“But that’s what Junyi calls him…”

“And you think it would upset Junyi if you called him the same thing?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled.

“That’s very considerate, Binnie,” you told him proudly.

“Are you going to tell them?”

“No, not if you don’t want me to,” you shook your head. “But I think that it would be a good idea for you, Junyi, and Mr. Kun to all talk about this together. When you’re ready.”

Woobin sniffled again, and you leaned over to hug your boy. He immediately threw his arms around your neck, burying his wet face in the collar of your blouse.

When you finally left his room after watching him fall asleep with your own two eyes, you found Kun reclined in your bed, bedside lamp on as he read a book.

“Is Woobin alright?” Kun flipped his book shut and set it aside.

You shimmied out of your work clothes. “Yeah, he’s okay. Just… needed Mom before bed.”

He nodded, watching as you pulled sleep clothes on and shuffled over to the bathroom. “Mm, of course. Mr. Kun wasn’t enough…” He sighed dramatically, making you lean your head back out to glare at him, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth.

“Shut up,” you grumbled after spitting your toothpaste out and flicking the bathroom light off. You plopped into bed, snuggling up to your pillow and closing your eyes. “He loves you, you know that.”

The sound of the bedside lamp clicking off rang through your room before you felt the sheets shift around and Kun scoot closer to you.

“I know, I’m just not ‘Mom,’” he mused, grabbing your hands to tug you toward him.

You obliged, rolling over to face him and rest your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead, still holding your hands against his chest.

“Goodnight, my love,” you breathed out, “Thank you again for handling them alone tonight.”

“Goodnight, lovey.” He rubbed soothing circles into the palm of your hand with his thumb.

As you watched Kun alternate between pushing Woobin and Junyi on the swingset, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It was peaceful afternoons like these that you treasured the most. You recognized a few more figures that were approaching the playground, waving to Johnny and Jaehyun in the distance as Mark and Sungchan immediately ran up to your two boys. The three dads all chatted as the four kids took off from the swingset at full speed towards the slides. You were on a bench a little further from the playset, and had no qualms about sitting and resting when you got the chance.

The playground was within walking distance of yours and Kun’s house, and right by the school, so it wasn’t a total shock to see some of your kids’ classmates there. You watched with amusement as all three of the adults perked up like meerkats towards the kids, who were now lined up at the monkey bars. Mark was first up, and must have been asking for help, as Johnny yelled out a ‘just a sec, champ!’ before gesturing between the three dads and all the kids clambering for their turn.

Apparently, Johnny and Jaehyun had decided it was their turn to help all four kids with the bars, as Kun lumbered over to plop down next to you at the picnic table.

“Thank God they showed up, I don’t know if I have it left in me to carry them back and forth across the monkey bars for the next hour,” Kun grunted, dropping his head down to rest on your shoulder.

You snickered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you watched all the children play. Woobin was the littlest, needing Jaehyun’s help all the way across the bars. The dad still gave him as enthusiastic of a double high-five as he gave Junyi after him, who was able to do a couple by himself after getting hoisted up there.

“Woobin wants to call you Dad, you know,” you blurted out in the quietness that had fallen between you and Kun.

Kun lifted his head up to look at you with wide eyes. “He does?”

“Yeah, he told me the other day. But he thinks Junyi will be mad at him.”

“Ohh…” He breathed out, nodding slowly.

“I would’ve said something to you, but he asked me not to tell you and Junyi at first. We had another conversation about it this morning, and he finally agreed that I could talk to you about it at least,” you explained. “I told him that you three should all talk. I think he’s really, really scared of making Junyi upset. They’re such good friends, you know?”

You looked on with fondness as the gaggle of kids around the monkey bars took off at a run away from Johnny and Jaehyun, apparently playing some kind of tag or hide and seek now. Woobin and Junyi were running off together hand-in-hand, giggling and cackling with laughter as Johnny mimicked chasing after them.

Kun ran a knuckle up and down your arm, trailing his hand down until he could lace his fingers with yours. “I know, sometimes I look at them and I think it’s like they’re… brothers.”

“Mm, yeah,” you hummed noncommittally. Finally taking your eyes off the playground, you turned to face him fully, covering his hand with both of yours. “Kun, with all this… it makes me really happy, you and Junyi make me really happy, and all four of us being together. But, I don’t— I’m not trying to replace Junyi’s mom. Despite what she did, he’s already had one, whatever memories he’s got of her. I want to be whatever he wants me to be. So, I’m perfectly content to be ‘Ms. Y/N’ for the rest of my life.”

“I asked him the other day, if he remembered his mom at all,” he admitted quietly.

“W-Why?”

“Morbid curiosity, I guess. He was so young, I wasn’t sure if he would. Funny thing was, he told me yes. So I asked what he remembered about her. And he just looked at me with the most confused expression I think I’ve ever seen him have and he goes ‘She picked me up from school today.’”

“Oh, oh my God,” you let out a choked chuckle, a lump growing in your throat.

“You picked him up from school that day, Y/N,” Kun said pointedly, poking you in the arm for emphasis.

“Yeah, I had guessed that,” you spluttered out, a wide, beaming smile on your face as you replayed those words in your mind over and over again.

“So it seems like, to me, you’re the only one with hang-ups about this, lovey.”

“I’m gonna fucking cry— no, scratch that, I already am,” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes with one of your hands.

“Sad cry, scary cry, boo-boo cry, or happy cry?” Kun asked teasingly, thumb wiping away one of your tears.

“Happy cry,” you answered, despite the fact that he definitely already knew. “So happy. I love you so much, both of you.”

“Junyi!” The distant voice of Johnny called out, chastising.

Both you and Kun snapped your heads up to look, only to see said child running at you full-speed.

“Woobin! Let your parents…” Jaehyun trailed off in defeat as a second small body hurtled towards you. “Sorry! We tried to let you guys have a moment…”

“It’s alright!” Kun called back to them as the two boys finally made it to you.

You lifted Junyi up onto the bench next to you with no hesitation, and Kun plopped Woobin onto his lap, his little legs reaching into yours. Junyi sat himself down on one of your legs, facing you with the most worried, intense gaze on his face.

“Are you okay, Ms. Y/N?!” He wiped at your wet cheeks. “What happened?”

“Nothing, hunny-bun,” you promised, holding both of his little hands and dropping loud smooches to them. “Happy tears, they’re happy tears. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Because you love us so much?” Woobin asked, supplying the last reason you’d given him for your happy tears.

“Yeah, always, bubbles,” you grabbed his head to be able to press a kiss to his forehead. “Always love you guys so much.”

“Why does it make you cry?”

“Because I have so much love inside me for all of you that sometimes it feels like I could just… burst!” You said with enough of a sing-song-y inflection that it made the two kids giggle, especially when you mimicked an explosion with your hands. “So instead of spontaneously exploding, it comes out as tears sometimes. Tears aren’t bad, Binnie, remember?”

“I know, Mommy,” he nodded dutifully.

Kun spoke up then, “I think we should all talk about what was making your mom so happy this time, boys.”

Junyi looked at his dad with alarm. “What? Bin and I didn’t do anything! We’re not in trouble, right?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Woobin pouted. “Junyi—”

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Kun hushed them gently. “I just said it was making your mom happy. What about you two getting in trouble would make your mom happy?”

“Oh.”

“I mean, it’s about what you two want to call us.”

You were still cradling Woobin’s head, and stroked over his hair reassuringly. “It’s okay, Binnie. Tell them what you told me.”

“I-I want to call Mr. Kun ‘Daddy,’” he mumbled, looking down intently at his lap. “But I don’t have to if it’s going to make you sad, Junyi!”

Junyi listened to Woobin, face turning entirely confused. “But he is your dad! Why wouldn’t you call him that?” He turned his bewildered look to you next. “And you’re our mom, right?!”

“Of course I am, bun-bun,” you smiled at him. “Binnie just needs to know if it’s going to make you upset for both of you to call your dad the same thing.”

“No, Bin, s’not gonna make me sad,” Junyi said strongly. “Will it make you sad if we call her the same thing?”

Woobin sniffled and looked up, finally displaying his teary eyes to everybody. He shook his head, and you felt relief blossom out through every part of you. Kun squeezed him tightly.

“Bub, sad cry, scary cry, or happy cry?” Kun asked him.

The child took several deep breaths before he finally answered. “I-I think it was scary first, but now it’s a happy cry, Daddy. Like Mommy does.”

Kun let out a strangled chuckle as he hugged Woobin even tighter to him, planting a kiss to his temple. “That’s okay, bub. Look at you, big kid with big feelings.”

“Daddy’s crying too!” Junyi gasped. “Is it happy crying, Daddy?”

“Yeah, buddy, it is,” he confirmed, cheeks noticeably damp.

Junyi felt at his own dry eyes. “Why am I not happy crying? Mommy, why am I not happy crying? ‘M happy! I am!”

“Oh, bunny, it’s okay,” you couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing his back affectionately. “You don’t have to cry to be really happy. Sometimes you’ll be really, really happy, the happiest you’ve ever been, and you won’t cry. Everybody’s different.”

“I do.”

“I do!” Sooyoung squealed.

The officiant’s remaining words were drowned out by the crowd erupting into cheers as Sooyoung was dipped into a kiss by her now-wife. You clapped from your place behind her as her maid-of-honor, your cheeks already hurting from all the smiling you’d been doing that day.

As they practically ran back down the aisle together, giddy, you were left standing at the arch, holding SooSoo’s wedding bouquet that she’d forgotten in her excitement. The music swelled again, your cue for the wedding party to file out as well. You fell in beside Ahrin’s best man, taking a more reasonable pace down the walkway. Looking into the guests that had stood up, you caught Kun’s eye from one of the middle rows, a familiar wide, overjoyed grin on his face. He was in the stratosphere again.

You met up with Kun at your table at the reception, the wedding party table. While he wasn’t in the party, he was your plus one, and your friend of course made sure he was seated with you. After the obligatory speeches—including one that you had to give—everyone could start eating. Kids were allowed at the wedding, but you wanted to make sure that you could put all your focus on making this the best day ever for your friend and didn’t want to have the boys out too late either, so they were at home with a babysitter. After the food was the couple’s first dance, and you watched fondly from your table as Sooyoung and Ahrin swayed together, clearly in their own world, exchanging words and giggles and laughs that you couldn’t hear.

Kun’s hand and yours were entwined on your lap, and when the DJ asked for the wedding party and their plus-ones to join the newlyweds, you pulled him to floor by that hand. As Kun’s other hand settled on your hip, you affectionately smoothed down the lapel of his suit jacket before resting yours on the curve where his neck met his shoulder.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he beamed at you.

“Hi, handsome,” you replied back humorously. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“You mean there could possibly be anything on my mind other than the fact that I’m dancing with the love of my life?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’ve been launched into the stratosphere picturing our future together’ look,” you said frankly, but still with the same fond smirk on your lips. “So? What are you thinking about?”

His eyes widened minutely before he chuckled. “I’m having a good time with you, lovey. Is a guy not allowed to smile about that?”

“You are…”

“That’s all I was thinking about.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Always in the stratosphere when I’m with you.”

Despite his sweet words, you felt a twinge of disappointment in your chest, resting your cheek on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the contemplative frown on your face. The two of you were living together before Sooyoung and Ahrin had even met, you were raising two kids together right now, and had already discussed getting married—binders, spreadsheets, all your joint expectations for what you wanted out of a hypothetical future partnership like that. Why was he shying away from the subject now? Was seeing you actually at a wedding making him have second thoughts? Did it suddenly all seem too real? As if the binders and spreadsheets weren’t real enough?

Those weren’t questions to ask him now at your best friend’s wedding, so you bit your tongue, continuing to let him sway the two of you across the dance floor.

Later in the night, after your feet had gotten tired, Kun excused himself to use the restroom. You took the opportunity to catch your breath at the wedding party’s table. You’d been darting around the venue the whole time, either greeting friends of friends, dancing with people you knew, or stopping mishaps before they mis-happened. Some guests had started going home, so you felt somewhat comfortable taking a short rest.

You weren’t expecting one of the brides herself to sit down beside you, however.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Sooyoung asked knowingly.

You tried to perk up, slapping on a smile. “It’s nothing, SooSoo. My feet are tired. Why aren’t you with Ahrin?”

“We’re about to be together for the rest of our lives. I think she can piss by herself right now,” she replied.

“Oh, right.”

“And, it’s also my wedding, and I don’t want my best friend all sad and alone at my wedding. I know you’ve been fixing all my problems all day and all night. So will you let me help you with one of yours?”

You looked around to see if you could spot Kun anywhere, then leaned in towards her with a sigh. “Kun’s been acting weird today.”

“How?”

“We always talk about getting married pretty openly. But like, now that we’re at a wedding, it feels like he’s avoiding the topic.”

“Why haven’t you guys gotten married? You practically act like it anyway.”

“He still wants to surprise me with the proposal,” you said. “I told him no public proposals, no proposing on birthdays or holidays, and no proposing at other people’s weddings. But other than that…”

“When was that conversation? About getting married and engaged?”

You took a sip of your drink as you thought. “Mm… almost a year ago? Maybe ten months? It was a few conversations.”

“So Ahrin proposed like right after that,” she surmised. “He’s probably waiting for the right time. Making sure you weren’t too stressed with the kids, then the holidays, and being my maid-of-honor. Both of you are very thoughtful and also over-plan everything.”

“That’s true,” you sighed. “And also a bit less salient of a point coming from the poster child of U-Haul lesbians.”

Sooyoung wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rubbed your upper arm. “We’re different people in different relationships in different places in life, Y/N. You’ve got a really good guy who is head over heels for you and loves your kid as much as he loves you. Don’t forget all that in one night.”

“You’re right, SooSoo,” you leaned your head against hers. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She pecked your hair.

“Is everything okay?” Kun’s voice came from behind you, sounding very concerned.

“Oh, yeah, Y/N’s getting a little warm in here,” SooSoo informed him brightly, letting you go and standing back up. “Why don’t you take her outside, Kun? There’s a nice little garden walkway, I think there’s some benches out there.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Sooyoung.”

Your friend gave you one last squeeze of your arm before taking back off into the crowd. Kun ushered you to your feet and guided you out of the main reception hall and into the much cooler nighttime air. Sooyoung was right, it was way less hot and stuffy out here, and there was a short walkway leading to a garden with some benches. Kun sat you down again there, rubbing your back as you stared listlessly out at the fountain in front of you. The fountain wasn’t on, the water inside of it still, and the air around you quiet and empty. In the distance, you could hear the music from the wedding venue, the thumping bass, and above you, a few stars dotted the sky next to a silver crescent moon.

“Is this better?” Kun asked you quietly.

“Yeah, thanks, Kun,” you replied shortly, still unable to shake the discomfort you felt from earlier. Despite your conversation with Sooyoung making sense in the moment, now that you were back with Kun, that uncertainty crept back into your mind.

“It was a lovely ceremony.”

“Yeah. SooSoo’s dress is beautiful on her.”

“Do you want to go home? If you’re not feeling—”

You suddenly straightened up to look Kun in the eye. “We’re going to get married, right? You do want to marry me, right, Kun?”

“Wh—” He scrambled to grab your hands in his, holding them tight. “Of course, love. Yes, of course I want to marry you, Y/N. Why would you think I didn’t?”

“I know we talk about it but… you haven’t proposed. And you’ve been acting weird tonight. And by weird, I mean normal. Like, not talking about marriage. We’ll be buying groceries, and you’ll somehow bring up us getting married, but now we’re at an actual wedding and you haven’t talked about us having one of our own at all…” The dam broke, all of your anxious rambles coming forth at once. “Nothing about if we should do this or that at ours, what flowers you might want, or even— You saw me at an altar holding a bouquet and are acting like it’s no big deal! You see our future in everything, but not today, and it’s been making me think that maybe you don’t see a future anymore.”

Oh god, you were fucking crying now. This was not how you wanted this conversation to go. Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you pushed them away with the back of your hand as you sniffled and tried to calm yourself down.

“Y/N, lovey, I am so sorry,” Kun’s voice was wavering too, and you knew he was holding back his own tears. “I do want to marry you, and I never wanted to make you think that I didn’t. You were right earlier, I’ve been in the fucking stratosphere all day, and I’ve been going crazy trying not to say every single thing that pops into my head about marrying you because I’ve got your ring and everything planned out for the proposal and it was going to be soon, I just wanted it to be a surprise for you and I didn’t want to accidentally spoil anything for you. But I never meant to hurt you, and I am so, so sorry that I did. God, I love you so much, it felt like my heart was going to give out when I saw you at the altar with a wedding bouquet, and then dancing after the first dance—”

You crushed your lips against his, letting go of one of his hands to wrap a hand around the back of his neck. He cupped your cheek softly, even as you kissed him like you hadn’t seen him in decades, and like you might never again, feverishly, past the point where you were out of oxygen and your head started spinning. Kun pulled back to pick up your left hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss on your ring finger.

“If I had it with me, I’d put your ring on you right now,” he promised, pressing another kiss to the empty knuckle. “Hell, we could elope tonight, find a drive-thru chapel.”

“The boys might feel left out,” you chuckled, pulling his mouth back to yours.

He hummed appreciatively against your lips, adding in between kisses, “Good— point. Pick them up on the way?”

“It’s past their bedtime.” You kissed him again. “They’d be cranky if we woke them up now.”

“Foiled again by two five-year-olds’ bedtime,” he sighed dramatically, leaning his forehead against yours.

“So how were you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Propose to me.”

“I’m still going to?”

“Well, I feel like I just ruined your surprise.”

“Me telling you what it’s going to be, would be ruining the surprise,” he scoffed and pulled back to let you see his indignant features. “Which I’m not going to do.”

You laughed, pecking his cheek. “I’m looking forward to it, my love.”

“And I’m looking forward to marrying you, and spending the rest of my life with you,” Kun sighed dreamily, pulling you in closer and resting his head against yours again. “I meant it when I said I’m always in the stratosphere with you, you know.”

“Me too, Kun.” You looped an arm around his back and under his suit jacket.

A few beats of peaceful silence went by, neither you nor Kun speaking, just the distant sounds of the music from the wedding, your own synchronized breathing, and a far-off train horn. You looked from the fountain up at the glowing half-moon above you.

“Thank you, lovey,” Kun broke the quiet, and you shifted your gaze to him, raising a curious eyebrow.

“You’re welcome?” You replied with slight amusement. “For what, love?”

“Somebody once told me that the whole point of being a parent was letting our kids know that they’re not alone in all this,” he began, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder where his hand rested.

“Who said that?”

“You did, lovey.”

“I did? Ooh, I’m smart,” you chuckled, patting his thigh. “You picked well, Qian Kun.”

He smiled at you fondly. “I know.”

“When did I say that?”

“Before we were even dating, you had invited Junyi and me to your apartment for a charcuterie night. When we were making that pitch for the preschool fundraising committee.”

“Oh, oh, oh, right.” You nodded quickly as the memories of that came flooding back to you. “You remember me saying that?”

“Of course. You completely changed my view on parenting that night.”

“Glad it was so life-changing for you.”

“It was also the moment I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh maybe a little too hard, “Oh, Kun.”

“What’s that laugh for?” He chuckled lightly despite his obvious confusion.

“I’m just remembering how I was totally going to jump your bones that night and then Junyi walked in. Meanwhile you are just… so sweet, as always,” you admitted, stroking his cheek with the back of your fingers.

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he laughed and keeled forward a little. You let him laugh into your neck, cradling the back of his head as his shoulders continued to shake.

“I—” He coughed into his elbow as he righted himself and tried to compose himself again. His eyes were sparkling with tears from how hard he’d laughed as he looked at you now, and you affectionately touched the crinkles around his eye as a couple more giggles escaped him. Once he’d finally sobered up enough, he tried again, “You’ve also helped me realize that’s not just what being a parent is about, though. That’s what being a partner is, too. Making sure your person knows they’re not doing it alone. And I hope that’s how I make you feel, too.”

“Qian Kun, love of my life that you are—” you shook your head and grabbed his face with two hands. “Of course you do, and it’s taking everything in me not to squish your head right now because of how much I love you.”

Kun just laughed again, covering your hands with his and slotting your lips together.

⤷ masterlist

[persefolli]

𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐱

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @xylianasblog, @scarasbaefy, @sukunasbigtiddiewifey, @the-mourning-moon, @childofgod-05

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Tonowari listened to his wife’s breathing pattern while laying straight up in bed. He’d been listening for about an hour, waiting for Ronal to fall into a deep sleep before he could sneak off. After a few more snores, he determined it was safe to go. His arm slithered from under his wife’s head and he got up, looking down at her sleeping figure before walking out of the pod.

He made sure to take the unlit path to his destination in case any of the clam members spotted him. They would likely question and possibly even follow him. If anyone caught him, he might as well kiss the respect he has goodbye. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he had urges, and Ronal couldn’t satisfy them. 

Tonowari was tired of being perfect all the time, tired of being humble, and treated as an equal. He wanted to be worshiped, he wanted the power to mold someone, to be feared, and respected all in one. That’s why he had you. 

You worked as a scientist for the RDA; the department that focused on Pandora’s sea life specifically. You and your lab partners were tasked to work with the whales…well, Tulkun’s, and analyze the brain matter that had an anti-aging agent for humans. 

The men you worked with fucked up. They angered the Metkayina by killing a na’vi’s spirit sister. After failing to capture the men in the first attack, the na’vi decided to infiltrate the lab and took you all hostage. Tonowari, the leader, killed off the men one by one, but left you.

He didn’t tell Ronal he didn’t kill you, which left you with questions. Especially if only him, and a select few of warriors knew he was keeping a human hostage.

"Why did you do it?"

"I didn't do anything!" You responded fearfully. 

Tonowari glared down at you, shaking his head. His knuckles turned white from gripping his spear too hard.

"Then what is this for." He pulled out a small vial of the golden liquid you kept in your station. 

"That's-...humans...we can use that for our aging, it slows it down."

He inspected the vial again.  "You HAD to kill the tulku to get this little thing?”

"I didn't kill it! I'm against this, really, they are intelligent, beautiful creatures, I opt out of the killing part.”

Tonowari tilted his head. He believed you. Why? 

When he first came for you, you bowed down,surrendering. You already knew what he was there for. You expected him to hurt you or impale you like the other mercenaries in the lab, but no, he just kidnapped you and kept you on a stray boat he’d also taken control of. Somewhere you could breathe properly, under his supervision. 

He noted the way that you apologized between sentences when speaking to him, the way you looked at him with those big, doey, watery eyes. You were indebted to him, and the two of you had a mutual understanding of that. 

Tonowari found himself visiting a lot, making excuses, questioning you about the RDA, until he turned to ask you about your own interests. The sudden changes in his behavior gave you whiplash. Maybe he was realizing he couldn’t get too close to you, but again, he wasn’t trying very hard to fight it. He realized he was emotionally cheating on you about a month into your incarceration, but he didn’t feel guilty about it.

The two of you got closer and closer, until he buttered you up enough to get more…intimate.

He watched in satisfaction as you gagged on his cock. "Take your time." He looked at you through lidded eyes. To be honest, he didn't want you to take your time. He wanted you to continue to struggle to take his length in your mouth. 

Your tiny human mouth was no match for his length, only able to take in his tip and using both hands to make up for the rest. This wasn’t the best sexual intimacy he’s had, but it was something so stimulating seeing you go down on him. Tears streamed from your eyes and the rim of your mouth was soaked in saliva. You looked so dumb to him, and he loved it. He shut his eyes and kept a tight hold on your head as he felt himself coming. He grunted through clenched teeth and spilled into your mouth, sending you back, coughing and choking on the overload of semen.

Tonowari reached for his mask and took a breath of air that was made to keep him stable in environments like this. “On your back, bend your knees.” He commanded.

You did as told, and he shifted with you, looping his index finger around your panties and pulling them down. You let out an embarrassing moan, as he ran his large finger along your folds. It had to be the same size as any male you’d ever been with, maybe even bigger.

He pushed his finger past your folds, causing you to jolt and moan. You gripped at your breasts desperately as he worked his finger in and out of your tight hole. Tonowari had drowned out your moans and looked at your cunt intently, nearly drooling at how you sucked his finger in. If you  were this tight around his single finger, how would you feel around his cock?

Tonowari instinctively curled his finger upwards which caused you to sit up on your elbows, letting out a loud moan. “Fuck! Wari-” He pulled his finger out of you with a popping sound and you whined from the sudden emptiness.

He pulled you on top of him, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. “Turn around.”

You did as told, turning around so he could have a good view of your ass. He groaned and unclipped his loincloth, springing free behind you. You looked back nervously, hands on his thighs as you waited for him to give you the next instruction.

He squeezed your ass, warmth covering your entire cheek as he gripped at the flesh. He then pulled it aside to expose both your entrances to him. He groaned at the sight and allowed his length to rest on your ass.

You wanted to tell him to be gentle, but you knew he enjoyed having his way with you. It was a power thing for Tonowari, and he wasn’t giving that up so easily. 

“I'll go easy on you tonight.”

You were sidetracked by his statement, fully expecting him to fuck you.

“But-”

“I haven't trained you properly.” He sat up and placed a kiss on your spine, between your shoulder blades.

“Wouldn't be noble of me to just force myself in.”

You took a breath of relief, closing your eyes as he rubbed his finger along your folds again. You moaned softly, letting out a whimper when he prodded at your hole. You let out a yell as he pushed his finger inside, smirking as the sounds of pleasure filled his ears once again. 

“I'll have to train you.” He tilted his head,  working his finger in and out. “Want another?”

“Mhm. I want another!” You whimpered. Tonowari flicked at your clit before slowly worming his middle finger into your hole. Tonowari held you in place as you jerked forward, practically running away from his fingers.

He continued pumping his fingers in and out. Leaking a bit himself, seeing a ring form around his fingers. It would take at least 3 fingers for you to even think about taking his dick.

This regime would continue for a week or so, until you finally fit that third finger inside. 

He was ecstatic.

Ronal didn’t know what was up with her husband's sudden glow, but he was more attentive to clan duties, that's for sure. Tonowari already had a date planned in his head for the day he would officially claim you as his.

You were already his, and he knew that by the way you looked at him with glossy eyes when he came to see you. You were wrapped around his finger, and he took pride in finally feeling like a man. 

Tonowari came late one night. Later than usual, but it's not like you were keeping track.

He moved around the boat silently, taking off his armor, then untying his loincloth. You got eager and began removing your clothes but he turned and held up his hand.

“I’ll do it.”

You laid back as he crawled over you, working your underwear down and leaving your bottom half bare under him. He moved his hand down and began stroking himself between your folds. You bit your bottom lip and moaned softly, looking up at him with a pleading look. 

Once he was satisfied with how wet you were, he moved to push his length inside of you. 

“Oh god!” You grunted and threw your head back. Even though the past few nights you got accommodated to three of his fingers, you still felt a burning stretch as he pushed inside. He was also unbelievably long, which added on to the circuit of pain coursing through your bottom half.

“I took my time training you.” He placed a kiss to the back of your ear. “You can take it.” He encouraged. “We were patient so you can learn to take it, hm?” You looked down with tears welling in your eyes, but you nodded. You looked down to see a slight bulge in your belly, clearly from his invasion of space. 

Tonowari closed his eyes, took hold of your hips, and began thrusting slowly. You were painfully tight. Not even Ronal had him straining like this. You were molded to him, fit like a glove. 

“Wari- I-, Fuck!” You couldn’t even form a sentence while he was inside of you. You were addicted, to the pain, to the sweat, to the expression on his face as he fucked you slowly. It was obvious that he wanted to be rough with you, but he was a patient man, and he suppressed his own urges to please you.

“I'm gonna-” He panted.

He didn’t even finish his sentence. You knew he was coming by the way his moans got breathier and wimpy. You let out a squeal as you felt his liquid seep inside of you. You felt full, full and warm. He felt slightly embarrassed from how fast he finished, but he wouldn’t show that. This was weeks in the making. 

Tonowari held himself up, panting and opening his eyes. You trembled under him, pressing at his pelvis in hopes he would pull out. He let out an exasperated sigh and pulled out of you slightly, before turning you to your side and pushing back into you, to cockwarm him.

You expected a lot when you accepted the job on another planet, but you certainly didn’t expect this. 

[sufferu]

So I’ve been working here and there on bits and pieces of a reaction fic of my own, and here’s a bit of a ficlet that kinda shows what I’m going for lol.

Reaction Fic Excerpt: A Stroll Through The Capital

____

“This is it! This is my chance!“

In the present moment, Subaru’s face turned scarlet.

Julius snorted loudly, quickly moving to cover his mouth with his hand as Subaru’s antics quickly escalated onscreen. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I just— forgot about that part of what you are like.”

“Shut up,” Subaru muttered.

Ferris was making no such effort to hide his mad cackling. “I didn’t forget!” he crowed. “Aw, this is gonnya be so much fun. I’m nyever letting nya live ANY of this down—“

“Shut uuup—“

Ferris was having fun teasing him. Many of the more naïve members of the audience were giggling right alongside him — but on the other side of the theater, Wilhelm had a darker look on his face.

Beside him, Rem was sporting a similar expression. “Wilhelm-san, is it?” she said quietly.

“That is correct,” Wilhelm said, not unkindly. “How may this old man be of service?”

“That boy…” she chewed her lip. “He got dragged into an entirely different world,” she clarified. “Without his knowledge and against his will. He was left entirely alone on the streets of a strange city where he did not know the language, with no understanding of the world around him, no means by which to defend or provide for himself, and with nobody willing to help a stranger like him out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“That…is correct.”

Rem didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to: Wilhelm had already come to the same conclusion as her — as had most other individuals throughout the theater, if the looks on all of their faces was any indication. Even Ferris had a subtle air to his movements that hinted at his teasing being more of an attempt at a distraction from that horrifying revelation than a genuine source of amusement — though perhaps it was both.

Emilia was not one of those individuals. Neither were Beatrice or Garfiel, both of whom she was attempting to shush. “It’s reeally not nice to laugh,” she scolded. “Subaru didn’t even want us watching any of this, so be nice. And we promised not to make fun of him for anything embarrassing we see here, remember?”

“Subaru makes it difficult not to laugh, I suppose,” Betty giggled.

“N-Nah,” Garfiel sucked in a breath, his mouth twitching. “Princess’ got a point,” he agreed. “This is already — kinda private. My amazing self wouldn’t want anyone laughing at my memories either, no matter how embarrassing. Captain deserves — at least a little grace —“

Everyone watched as onscreen Subaru was gently shoved away from a demihuman-only bar, somehow tripping over his own two feet and falling over the railing and into the river of the Capital.

Garfiel burst out laughing all over again. This time Emilia gave up on trying to make him stop.

“Is this really how it was supposed to be?” The Subaru onscreen muttered to himself, sitting in an alley, absolutely drenched. “Wasn’t I summoned into a parallel world?!”

Anastasia watched with interest as Subaru rifled through his things, grumbling. “That’s the metia you used to find the White Whale, ain’t it?” she pointed out, eyes flashing greedily. “How did that work if it was from another world? Did ya have a bunch of mabeasts there, too?”

Subaru shifted nervously, embarrassment being taken over by something resembling unease. “N-Not exactly,” he admitted.

“Hmm…” Anastasia watched the caged Subaru for a moment longer before turning back to the screen.

“The truth is,” onscreen Subaru was saying, “I have no idea what to do next, and I still have no idea how or why I was summoned. I don’t remember stepping into a mirror or falling in a pond —“

“Wait, so.” Julius frowned. Oddly enough, he seemed to be relaxing at the sound of this statement. “Is this sort of occurrence normal, then? For castaways from beyond the Great Waterfall.”

“…N-No,” Subaru admitted, his face burning. “I kinda just — i-it was a popular book trope back home, so…” He hunched in further on himself. “I just assumed things were like that?”

“Oh.” Julius looked uncomfortable all over again, perhaps even moreso now than before. “I see.”

“— and if I’m to believe this is the otherworldly summoning format I’m used to, where is the beautiful girl who summoned me?”

Julius choked, hastily coughing into his fist. Everyone else had no such restraint. The room burst into laughter once again.

“I think I knyow what kinds of stories Subaru-kyun likes to read!” Ferris teased.

“Can it!” Subaru retorted, face almost as red as Reinhard’s hair.

“You know,” Julius attempted to soothe, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I do have a number of romance novels in my collection. If you would like to borrow—“

Subaru buried his face in his knees and screamed, the sound muffled.

[handittothefandom]

Red, White and Royal Blue Headcannons

- Alex falls asleep with his glasses on, Henry takes them off

- LIGHTSABER BATTLES

- Alex knows EXACTLY how many moles Henry has

- Henry asks June if proposing on New Year’s is cliche

- The both have their pronouns in social media bios

- The first time Alex actually spoke spanish in front of Henry he had to sit down

- David spends a lot of nights laying in Alex’s knees and Henry isn’t sure if his dog stoled his boyfriend or if his boyfriend stoled his dog

- “I love you” “That’s gay” “Alex I am quite literally gay”

- Henry is always playing with Alex’s hair and Alex is always playing with Henry’s hands

- The next time they go to the lake Alex jokes about how Henry better not run away this time

- Alex is always stressed and tries to play off his panic attacks by joking, Henry holds his hands in his and sits with him until he breathes

- Ellen refers to Henry as her favorite son

- They smash so much cake in each others faces at their wedding

- Alex has a tattoo only Henry has seen

- Alex wears makeup for their first pride, seeing him and those damn eyelashes with mascara leave Henry unable to talk when he looks at him for the whole day

- You bet your ass Henry always buys Alex yellow roses on their anniversary

- Bea tells Alex that their dad would have really loved him

- Henry ends up so obsessed with Alex because he’s the first person who didn’t pretend to love him for someone he wasn’t

- Henry has a super specific skin care routine, and even wears a headband while he does it, Alex washes his face with bar soap and it makes Henry so mad “You really don’t do anything and look that good”

- When they’re together Alex rubs Henry’s back till he falls asleep, when they’re apart they having matching teddy bears they sleep with and Alex calls and reads to Henry on really bad night

- “you might be the prince of whales but you are the king of my heart”

- One night Alex is putting their kids to sleep and Henry over hears him telling their love story as a bed time story, “Sometimes you’re wrong and that’s okay because when I admitted I was wrong it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me”

- Alex is obsessed with matching Halloween costumes

- Henry definitely calls him princess

- Henry dedicates his first book to Alex

- Alex is very ticklish to Henry’s advantages

this list is only gonna get longer but here

Also if you like any of these and want to write a whole fic please do, send me a link when you’re done

[olivia091108]

Human popsicle

Summary:y/n is apart of wildboyz and thsi epsode they’re shooting in Antarctica

Word count:1245

Pairing:steve o x reader

The travel was worth it once we got off the boat I looked around and I saw white mountains it looked like a winter wonderland it was gorgeous. While we’re here we’re renting a small house 10 minutes from the town.

We all go and find our rooms I chose one with a huge window obviously and started unpacking when I first packed I thought that these clothes would keep me warm but I might need to go into town and get some warmer clothes.

After unpacking me and Chris go into town to get some things. I go to a shop and get this really cute outfit of white earmuffs and a white puffer jacket with matching snow boots and a couple more clothes while Chris got some food for us.

We all had some food before sitting around and getting told the plan for tomorrow. We aren’t filming tomorrow so we are going to ski and probably just chill before we have to do the crazy stunts the following day.

I was getting pretty tired so I said goodnight to everyone and went up to my room and tried to get a good night sleep.

TIME SKIP

Yesterday I was boiling i layered my clothes so I was wearing a vest a top a hoodie and the jacket and even after taking off my jacket and top I was still hot so today I just decided to wear just my bra and knickers underneath.

We are going to the beach wich I didn’t even know they had here and we were messing about and then we saw some penguins that were so cute but I did get a bit scared when they got too close. Steve o got bit on the thigh by one of them for a stunt wich looked like it hurt and it was probably worse because of the cold.

We were on the boat and It was my turn for my stunt where I jump into the water and swim for as long as I can.they checked the water and it was 4 degrees. Normally Chris would be wearing his life guard bikini but it’s too cold he said so I guess if I drown then I won’t be saved by him.

I got my scuba goggles on and took off my clothes so I was wearing just my underwear and I immediately wanted to run and sit by a fire but I had to do this first. I put on some flippers and went to the edge of the boat and the safety manager started to explain what could go wrong and what I would do.

I tried to listen and I know I should of but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Steve o he was wrapped up in his coat and had a cigarette hanging from his lips and every now and then he would bring his shakey hands up to it and take it out.

“Y/n we need to get the cameras right and Steve o fix her Camera while we get ready.”Jeff said passing him the small Camrea to clip on to my bra.

“God y/n I don’t know how your not an icicle already I’m cold just looking at you”

“Oh believe me I am but I’m gonna just get in and just try and get it over with.” Steve o clips on the Camera easily even with his shakey hands. He then started to run his hands up and down my arms in a sweet attempt to warm me up.

“Ok ready y/n?”jeff asked “mhm” “ok go on” I slapped myslef round the face to amo myslef up before turning to the Camera

“I’m y/n and this is human popsicle” I pull the goggles over my face and fall backwards off the boat and at first you didn’t really feel the cold until it felt like little needles going into me and before I could even register anymore cold something out the corner of my eyes swam past.

I thought I was done for and a whale was going to swallow me whole but when I turn around I see a seal and it swam towards me and circled my left leg I would have lived to stay down there forever but I needed some air.

I break the surface and lift my goggles up So I can see properly and Jeff and everyone is peering over the side of the boat.

“You alright y/n”jeff asks looking worried

“I’m doing great I even made a friend down there” as if on cue the seal swam up and rested itself on my chest and having a break from swimming

“Your like a seal whisperer” Chris says excitedly

“I want to keep it” I stroke its wet fur and keel myself up before the cold hits me like a moving truck. I start swimming over to the ladder and the seal slowly gets off my chest and floats on the salty water.

As soon as I’m standing on the boat Steve o rushes over with a thick towel and wraps it round me and pulls me into his side. And one of the cameras come right up in my face

“How was the swim?”

“Cold”I manage to say with my chattering lips. We start driving the boat back and I stay close to Steve o and use him to get warm and Chris on the other side of him. Just as we’re getting closer to shore I slip on my jacket and trousers which help to cover me up.

“Omg look at my hair.” I shout out as I walk back over to Chris and Steve o.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Its fucking frozen”I flip my head around and my hair stays stuck in the same position like Lego.

Chris leave over and scratches it and it sounds like a weird asmr thing and after a while he starts trying to make music using my hair as a drum. As soon as we get into the house I run to the shower and have a boiling shower and hope that my hair won’t fall out.

I don’t know how long I was in there but I heard banging on the door but their voice was all muffled. I turn off the shower wrap myself with the towel and unlock the door and the first thing I see is Steve o staring down at me.

“I get you swam in like freezing water but I had to wait in the freezing cold and your gonna waste all the hot water y/n”he whines and he’s still wearing his coat but I still feel really cold.

“Then join me” his face drops and he then starts to laugh “wait your not serious are you?”

“Im dead serious Steve you coming or what?”i walk back into the shower dropping my towel and climbing in to engulf myself in the warm water.

Steve o then slides the shower curtain open before staring down at my body then back to my face and steps in behind me. I turn to face him and god he looks hot for someone who is complaining about how cold they are

“Did you lock the door?”

Sorry I didn’t post for a few days I’ve been really busy and also I’m running out of ideas I’m always here for a request

-live

[sparkles-and-trash]

Life with legs (and other things), a silly little dabihawks mermay smut <3

smut smut under the cut!

Keigo could not believe he had spent so much of his life wanting the opportunity to walk on land.

It sucked!

Legs were heavy and clumsy, they were just so unsteady, and falling down HURT, feet were just disgusting, and walking around all day was exhausting.

Not to mention how loud everything were, and bright, and hot, like come on!

But then there way Touya.

With his white hair, eyes as turquoise as the prettiest of seas, his voice so alluring, body covered in beautiful tattos and scars, scars Keigo knew Touya hated, but Keigo found them as beautiful as the rest of Touya.

He might even admit that Touya’s legs were nice.

Then came a whole other thing he needed to navigate. Because with his brand new legs came a few other new parts as well, and Keigo had not yet had any time to get the gist of it.

And before he knew it, he was in Touya’s beachouse, in Touya’s bed, and he really, really wished he’d done a bit more research on this. T

ouya was kissing him so good, hands roaming his body so eagerly, their tounges dancing against each other playfully, and as their hips started rolling Keigo knew he was fucked.

Stopping their makeout session to meekly voice his problems was one of the hardest things Keigo have ever done, but Touya’s sweet and rational reaction made him feel a lot better about it.

After talking about it for a bit, they decided that it was probably best for Keigo to top (which was a confusing way of words, should it be something like… well, he didn’t have a good option, but he was sure humans did if they tried).

Initially Keigo had wanted to just watch Touya as he prepared himself, but watching his face and seeing the pleasure it seemed to bring him, Keigo couldn’t help but practically beg to help out, and dear god did it feel good to be the reason Touya felt good.

When Touya insisted they were good to go, Keigo’s heart was beating so fast he thought he might impolde.

Touya smiled softly at him. «Just sit back with you’re back against the bedframe, I’ll pretty much do the rest,» he said with a crooked smile and heavy lidded eyes.

Keigo nodded and thrilled softly, making Touya chuckle.

«Like this?» Keigo asked, and Touya nodded. T

ouya straddled his lap carefully, and leaned in to tuck a blond curl behind one of Keigo’s pointed ears.

«Perfect,» he whispered, and Keigo shivered from his head to his toes.

Touya started slowly sinking down onto him, and Keigo couldn’t help but moan, loudly.

This was appearantly the right thing to do, because Touya did the same, and before they knew it, Touya had bottom out, and was now basically sitting in Keigo’s lap.

«Okay?» Keigo whispered, trying his best to stay still.

Touya chuckled, which made him move, which made them both moan.

«Very,» he said softly, and with another soft moan he started moving.

Keigo wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes open to watch Touya, but the pleasure hit him like an out of control whale, and his head fell back and his eyes tragicallyfell shut.

«Fuck Kei, you feel, hah, you feel amazing,» Touya moaned encouragingly, and Keigo whined.

He forced his eyes back open, and the sight of Touya moving so beautifully on top of him nearly made him bust then and there.

«You, oh shit, you feel… so good,» Keigo whimpered.

«Better than anything I’ve ever felt.»

Touya moaned again and started moving faster, making both of them gasp for air.

Keigo’s hands had found they way onto Touya’s hips, and he found himself meeting Touya’s thrusts midway, faster and faster.

«Touya, I..» Keigo stuttered.

«I think I’m gonna…»

Touya moaned.

«Yeah, fuck, me too, it’s okay, just, just let it happen, it’s okay, fuck, fuck, FUCK!»

Hearing Touya’s words made Keigo move faster more erratically than ever, and with just a few more thrusts he finally tipped over the edge, letting himself spill deep inside of Touya.

As Touya rode him trough it, he too hit his peak, and Touya tighted impossibly tighter around Keigo, and the blond whimpered softly at the overstimulation.

As they were both trying to catch their breaths, leaning onto each other all boneless and softly breathing each other in, Keigo found himself thinking that maybe he could get used to legs, after all.

masterlist - wip list - ao3 - ko-fi - wishlist

[fiercynn]

Hey do you have any poetry you can suggest because I saw your response to that OP, I’d love some stuff to read!

so i started responding to another similar ask by @unitedstates0fdakota but i accidentally posted it when it was incomplete so i decided to continue here! check out that post for the first two recs, george abraham's birthright and romeo oriogun's sacrament of bodies

more than organs, kay ulanday barrett

kay ulanday barrett is a poet, performer, and educator, navigating life as a disabled filipinx-amerikan transgnder queer in the u.s. with struggle, resistance, and laughter. pamela sneed, one of the reviewers quoted on the back of more than organs, describes the collection as about “hunger that is physical, spiritual, and queer”, and i think hunger is an excellent way to put it. i love how the pieces in this collection oscillate between visceral and playful – there’s a poem called “pain, an epistle” but also one called “actually, jenny schecter wasn’t the worst”.

you googled “authentic” / & now are seated next to me. / as I speed walk you to the cart / aunty gives me the last dish / gets the idea that I’ve waited too long / for something to just taste right. / I wish for a dumpling stuff / of bullet skins to be the shrapnel / in every white man’s throat. / go ahead / say the word oriental / at my table / one more time. —  “I just want dimsum undisturbed by wypipo”

a theory of birds, zaina alsous

zaina alsous is a prison abolitionist, a daughter of the palestinian diaspora, and a movement worker in south florida. the blurb for a theory of birds describes it as “putting ecological conservation in conversation with arab racial formation, state vernacular with the chatter of birds”, and as someone who wanted to be an ornithologist as a child and now works in climate policy, it feels like she wrote this to speak to my soul.

Inside the dodo bird is a forest, Inside the forest a peach analog, Inside the peach analog a woman, Inside the woman a lake of funerals, disappointed male lovers, scientists, Inside the lake a volcano of whale songs, Inside the volcano a language of naming, Inside the language an algorithm for de-extinction, Inside the algorithm blued dynamite to dissolve the colony’s Sun, twinkle twinkle, I didn’t mean to fall in love with failure, its molting rapture, I didn’t mean to name myself from a necklace of silent vowels, I didn’t go looking from for the bird, I entered through the empty cage, hips first —  “Bird Prelude”

boy with thorn, rickey laurentiis

rickey laurentiis is a poet who was raised in new orleans, louisiana, to study light. this is true for a lot of poetry imo, but every piece in boy with thorn requires reading at least twice in a row, because laurentiis’s use of language is so deft and stuffed with meaning that i needed to experience it from different angles. the description for the collection tells us “in a landscape at once the brutal american south as it is the brutal mind, boy with thorn interrogates the genesis of all poetic creation—the imagination itself, questioning what role it plays in both our fascinations with and repulsion from a national history of racial and sexual violence”.

Therefore, my head was kingless. I was a head alone, moaning in a wet black field. I was like any of those deserter slaves whose graves are just the pikes raised for their heads, reshackled, blue and plain as fear. All night I whistled at a sky that mocked me, that fluently changed its grammar as if to match desire in my eye. My freedom is possible, it said. —  “Conditions for a Southern Gothic”

eye level, jenny xie

this is kind of cheating because i first read eye level when it came out in 2017, but i recently reread it so i feel like it counts! jenny xie was born in anhui province, china, and now lives in the united states. eye level travels with xie from phnom penh to corfu to hanoi to new york city, and her descriptions piercing, sensual, and bottomless.

Sunday, awake with this headache. I pull apart the evening with a fork. White clot behind the eyes. Someone once told me, before and after is just another false binary. The warmed-over bones of January. I had no passport. Beneath the stove, two mice made a paradise out of a button of peanut butter. Suffering operates by its own logic. Its gropics and reversals. Ample, in ways that are exquisite. And how it leaves —not unlike how it arrives, without clear notice. —  “Zuihitsu”

i also post about english-language palestinian poetry (both written in english and in translation) in my #palestinian poets series, each of which features poems you can find online!

[ereardon]

At Sea, With You

A/N: This is a snippet of an original work that I started that was inspired by TGM but where the MC is a Naval aviator who falls in love with the ship surgeon on a mission. Little does he know that she got engaged three weeks before they set out to sea. Jacob (the surgeon) is Lewis Pullman in my mind and I weirdly have Sadie Sink in mind for Meredith the MC. Not a TGM fic, technically OC x OC. Just thought it might be fun to post this!

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

“It’s OK. I’m just lucky you showed up tonight.” 

He sounds relieved, like he really thought I wouldn’t show. Guilt clouds my mind. I tap my bare left ring finger against the coffee cup. The good part of me, the part that volunteers at the food shelter and cuts up six-pack plastic rings so fish don’t get stuck and the part of me that wore a white confirmation dress under the scorching Louisiana sun screams at the rest of me to tell him. In the deep recesses of my mind she tells me that I owe him that. 

“Are you alright?” Jacob leans toward me and props an elbow up on the wall behind us. I lay my head back until it is touching the wall, and his arm is only inches from me. His bicep when I had touched it was muscular. He’s carting around a really excellent body underneath his uniform, I am positive of it. The quiet, unassuming exterior is hiding something beneath it. 

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem a bit off.” 

“Do you really know me well enough to say something is off?”

Immediately I can tell he’s taken aback, and guilt starts to seep to every corner of my body. Kindness is not always a great strength of mine. I’ve had to bite my tongue more than once growing up in the South with the alphabet of the Navy always ready on my lips. Honesty is a philosophy I lean too hard into at times, to my detriment. And one I ignore all too often as well. 

“I’m sorry,” I add, quickly. “That was rude of me.” 

Jacob drops his arm and straightens up. “It’s alright. I overstepped.”

“I just mean, we’re strangers, right? Or kind of? And saying something like that makes me think you see this as more than it is.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hate myself the moment the words leave my lips. I’m not sure why I say it. It’s sour as it exits my mouth. 

“Trust me, I am very aware of the situation, Meredith.” His voice is bone chillingly calm. I give him a side eye and see he’s looking at me, lips pulled in a frown. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

My heart begins to jog in my chest. He knew. He had spotted the ring that first day and has been pretending otherwise ever since. If anything I’m pissed at myself. An anxious blush creeps across my face, combating the cold of the ocean wind. 

“The mission is only a few weeks,” Jacob says and my pulse instantly starts to even out. “You’re young and smart and absolutely beautiful. I know that if we were anywhere else, this wouldn’t be happening.” He waves his hand between us. “If I had met you at a bar in New York you wouldn’t have given me a second look. But here, on the ship, it’s a limited dating pool. Everything out here is limited. I’m your default.” 

Dating pool. The elephant in the room. The whale on the ship. He’s laying it out there for the world to see. I’m not imagining the electric current I feel running between us. 

I breathe out a sigh of relief, not even realizing I had been holding my breath, and lay my left hand gently on his thigh. He looks up at me and the vulnerability across his button nose and pink cheeks makes me flush. 

“Stop it,” I whisper lightly. I want to tell him the truth. That I noticed him the very first day in the mess. That talking to him feels like talking to an old friend, but also stimulates a nerve I didn’t even know I had. That touching him feels natural. That I waited all day, rushed my duties, to make sure I made it up here, just hoping he would still be here. 

He glances down at my hand. I start to feel insecure and go to lift it, but then change my mind. 

“Meredith.” That’s it. Just my name rolling off his lips in a quiet whisper that gets picked up and sailed away by the wind. I still don’t lift my hand from his leg. Instead, I rub my thumb slowly back and forth a few times. A reassurance. So without saying it, he knows. Through the silence, I hope he reads me. 

I look over at him. “It’s not like that OK?” 

He nods. 

“I need you to know you’re a choice, not a default. I’m here because I want to be. Simple as that.” 

The words hang in the hair, dense like a thick fog rolling in. Jacob glances over at me, his gentle face slowly relaxing. 

We sit there in the darkness and in silence, my hand on his leg, until the coffee in our cups goes cold. Until the wind picks up so high it feels like I have tinnitus from the constant ringing. Until we both realize how late it is, and how tired we will be the next day. Until we both know, deep down, that tomorrow will be different. 

[aeoki]

Grand Slam - Blue Requiem: Chapter 4

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Pool Characters: Tomoya, Sora & Aira

TL Note:

For those who are unfamiliar with these titles, Sora is referring to the actual games of Super Smash Brothers and Fall Guys.

< Almost an hour later. Right after the end of the first event, "Moby Dick", on Day 2 of the “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival”. >

Tomoya: Dammit~ After all that stuff I said, I still lost~!

Aira: Ahaha… You didn’t lose, Mashiro-senpai. I was the “White Whale” but I still ended up being pushed into the water.

In terms of the event, it’s the “White Whale’s” loss, in other words, “Team StarPro’s” loss while it’s “The RhyLin and CosPro Alliance” and “Team NewDi’s” victory, right?

Tomoya: I guess so… Rather than my loss, it’s more like Harukawa’s victory, huh.

Sora: HaHa~♪

Tomoya: No HaHa~s! I’m so frustrated! I completely lost! Harukawa, you’re “Team newDi’s” leader and I thought you weren’t there for the first event today!

But that wasn’t the case at all. We just couldn’t “see” you.

Sora: Sora had a transparent cloak on~ Just kidding~♪

Aira: Umm. I still didn’t understand the logic at the end, but Harukawa-senpai, where did you go during the event?

Tomoya: Hmm~ I was also shoved into the water in the blink of an eye, so this is just speculation, but he was probably hiding behind the other player’s backs.

He calculated where the others would be looking and always made sure to stay in their blind spot. That’s why we couldn’t see him – we weren’t aware he was there.

I think the cameras would still have captured him, though. They would have captured us moving stupidly here and there without noticing Harukawa.

Aira: D-Does that mean he was in our blind spot the entire time? In that small pool? Can a human do that?

Sora: HiHi~♪ Sora can see stuff like that through “colours”! Like, where a person’s focusing their attention.

Tomoya: If you can already do that, you’re basically superhuman, Harukawa.

Sora: Thank you for the compliment! But Sora would prefer if you called him a magician instead…♪

Tomoya: No, thanks. I’m just your average teenager with no special powers, but people will compare us since you’ve got crazy-good physical abilities and cheats.

Sora: Sora isn’t cheating~ It’s not like Sora doesn’t pay a price for it, you know?

Sora’s brain hurts after seeing all the “colours”! That’s why Sora stayed at the back to conserve energy on the first day!

But things were reorganised and Sora’s “Team NewDi” fell to the very bottom~ So Sora’s shackles came off~♪

Tomoya: Scary. Uuu~ It looks like our tough battle is just gonna keep going. Even though we formed an alliance with “Team CosPro”, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy to turn the tables in our favour in one go.

I think things are just gonna get worse for us until we fall into last place.

Sora: HuHu~♪ It’s an okay result!

Making Ai-chan, the “White Whale”, fall was something bound to happen, but we had to defeat as many players from “The RhyLin and CosPro Alliance”.

Players that had fallen into the water won’t gain any points, so the points would be split up between the surviving players! And Sora was the sole survivor in the event~

Tomoya: Yeah. A lot of the points split from “Team StarPro” to “Team NewDi”, so it looks like you guys are slowly catching up to them.

Sora: Yes! Now, things are finally getting interesting~♪

Aira: That’s a totally unexpected ambush… Harukawa-senpai, I always thought you were someone like a mascot character that makes everyone relaxed with the cute things you do and say.

But I can’t believe how scary you can be once you’re the enemy.

Tomoya: Ahh~ That’s what it probably looks like from the outside, huh. I think the public sees “Ra*bits” with a similar kind of image.

But once “small and cute animals” are on equal footing, they’ll end up fighting each other for their territory. You won’t be able to call them cute after seeing that.

You’ll really lose if you don’t take it seriously. Harukawa is pretty merciless when it comes to battles.

Sora: HeHe~♪ Gaming isn’t fun if you’re not being serious, you know?

The previous event was a lot of fun because it was like a video game~♪ Like, the one you have to push everyone off! Super Idol Brothers! Or Fall Idols[*] !

Actually, Sora was able to make use of the skills he learnt in those games! Video games aren’t just for fun!

Tomoya: I don’t get what you're saying.

…Acchoo!

Sora: Ah! You two should get changed. If not, you guys should wear a jacket?

It looks like the weather has been abnormal lately so it’s gotten colder. You might catch a cold~

Tomoya: You’re right… It’s already turning into autumn. You’re amazing in that aspect, Harukawa. You’ve already worn something warm.

Sora: HoHo~♪ Sora often falls asleep with his belly showing, so Senpai always scolds Sora for that! He always says, “Please cover yourself, all right?”

Sora has been told off so many times now, so Sora remembers ♪

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[very-grownup]

Best Books of 2022

Best "I think you wrote Lois McMaster Bujold fanfic and I respect that" Novel: WINTER'S ORBIT.

Best "Oh shit THAT'S how foot binding works?!" Novel: IRON WIDOW.

Best Whale Ranking Novel: MOBY DICK.

Best Novel About Sperm: MOBY DICK.

Best Novel About a Cannibal: MOBY DICK.

Best Novel About Forced Self-Cannibalism: THE GRANDMASTER OF DEMONIC CULTIVATION.

Best Novel Recommended By A 10-Year-Old: THE GIRL WHO DRANK THE MOON.

Best Re-read of a Novel First Read as a 10-Year-Old: I WANT TO GO HOME!

Best End of the World Novel: THE LAST POLICEMAN.

Best Lesbian Romance Novel: HOW TO FIND A PRINCESS.

Best Romantic Accounting Novel: THE RUIN OF A RAKE.

Best Romance Novel With a Disaster Bi Lead: CHEF'S KISS.

Best Romance Novel Where the Protagonist Doesn't Know It's Romance: THE SCUM VILLAIN'S SELF-SAVING SYSTEM.

Best Fantasy Trilogy First Novel: THE STARDUST THIEF.

Best Fantasy-ish Trilogy: SON OF A TRICKSTER, TRICKSTER DRIFT, and RETURN OF THE TRICKSTER.

Best Fantasy Standalone Novel: THE SPEAR CUTS THROUGH WATER.

Best Use of Ringo Starr: THE EINSTEIN INTERSECTION.

Best Book You Read In High School But I Didn't: THE GREAT GATSBY.

Best Unionization Novel: SILK AND INSIGHT.

Best Story of a Complicated Man: THE ODYSSEY.

Best Short Story Collection Containing a Cake Recipe: MOIRA'S PEN.

Best Meta-non-fictional Fictional Review Collection: A Perfect Vaccuum.

Best Book By Someone Who Used To Live Nextdoor: HALFBREED.

Best Book Adapted Into An Orson Welles Film: THE TRIAL.

Best Use Of Dick Jokes: IF THIS BOOK EXISTS, YOU'RE IN THE WRONG UNIVERSE.

Best Rotting Nightmare Novella: NOTHING BUT BLACKENED TEETH.

The full list of competitors below.

Mister Impossible

Whispers Under Ground

The Serpent's Secret

Sabriel

Game of Stars

Lirael

Once Ghosted, Twice Shy

Abhorsen

A Snake Falls to Earth

Across the Wall: A Tale of the Abhorsen and Other Stories

Winter's Orbit

The Best of Gene Wolfe: A Definitive Retrospective of his Finest Short Fiction

Iron Widow

Tar Baby

Moby Dick

The Marrow Thieves

Popular Hits of the Showa Era

Heaven Official's Blessing (volume 2)

The Prince and the Puppet Thief

The Empress of Salt and Fortune

The Truth Is a Cave in the Black Mountains

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain

The Door Into Summer

Spoiler Alert

The Great Gatsby

Wicked As You Wish

Halfbreed

Never Let Me Go

Can't Escape Love

In the Miso Soup

The Girl Who Drank the Moon

The Björkan Sagas

Artificial Condition

Starship Troopers

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (volume 2)

The Turn of the Screw and Other Stories

The Beautiful Ones

Every Living Thing

A Prince on Paper

Broken Homes

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (volume 2)

The Last Policeman

Split Tooth

Lost in the Never Woods

The Three-Body Problem

Flip the Script

Bitter Gold Hearts

It All Comes Back to You

Mistress Masham's Repose

How to Find a Princess

I Want to go Home!

Woman Running in the Mountains

The Little Warrior (Jill the Reckless)

Son of a Trickster

The Einstein Intersection

Captive Prince

The Trial

Trickster Drift

Six German Romantic Tales

Return of the Trickster

If Beale Street Could Talk

Heaven Official's Blessing (volume 3)

Japanese Tales

Akata Warrior

Foxglove Summer

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (volume 3)

The Loophole

The Ruin of a Rake

Complicity

The Stardust Thief

The Hanging Tree

Beauty and the Besharam

Some Do Not ...

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (volume 3)

The Joining of Dingo Radish

Prince's Gambit

The Spear Cuts Through Water

Chef's Kiss

Monkey Beach

The Hourglass Throne

She Who Became the Sun

The Strange Journeys of Colonel Polders

Heaven Official's Blessing (volume 4)

The Sunbearer Trials

The Toynbee Convector

Kings Rising

The Odyssey

Moira's Pen

Revenge

The Changeling

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (volume 4)

If This Book Exists, You're in the Wrong Universe

The Wolf and the Woodsman

The Husky and his White Cat Shizun (volume 1)

A Perfect Vacuum

It Takes Two to Tumble

Silk and Insight

In Deeper Waters

Nothing but Blackened Teeth

I Will Fear No Evil

[oracleofsecrets]

Playing Final Fantasy IV

Part of the Quest to play all 16 FF games

Side note, I think this is the first series logo where the primary protagonist isn't in it. LIke, that's not Cecil that's Kain lmao

Hours logged: 21

Also HELL YEAH SNES time :D

Firsts: 

Halfway tent[restore party hp&mp]/save points in dungeons god BLESS

White chocobos and black chocobos 

Five party members

Battle formation (rows)

Active battle system

LEARNING MAGIC FROM LEVELING UP!!!

Ethers

The iconic boss music

Worsts:

Five party members. It gets stressful managing that many characters, and no one can stay alive. Multi-target healing magic gets diluted even more

Fixed battle formation (only characters in the second and fourth slots could be put in the back row, where they take and deal less physical damage, making it useful for casters)

General impressions / Semi-live blog

BIG step up in story complexity, though the characters still fall pretty flat. Golraz reveal did Nothing for me.

Incredible story elements, like one of my faves: high fantasy meets high tech (especially when high tech is from the ancient past). The Tower of Babil was really cool designs, and Zot interior is similarly cool

Oh, an old stone looking tower right? Bam. Scifi tech interior

The fucking GIANT OF BABIL. GARGANTUAN LASER-SHOOTING MECH

It's ALSO a dungeon you have to go into to deactivate it. I think the giant's Balls was the core that you had to destroy? Like you enter from the mouth and work your way down...

Chocobo village shaped like chocobo :D

Institutional Corruption time…. Killing for Crystals

Yeah fuck the RAF

Dark Knight skill doesn’t suck ass! Er. As much. 

Hey man what the fuck (fighting the girl) (searching the town much much later gets you bomb fragments…)

Oh I hate having five party members. This is too stressful. No one can stay alive. Healing magic gets diluted even more… Edward why do u suck so bad

Magnetic Cave is fucked up and evil (no metal equipment or weapons allowed, or else that character is paralyzed in battle). But clever

Enjoying the airship version of the overworld theme, and that it has variations

“Cinematic” fights (you don't input anything) are mildly interesting

Rating: 7/16 with Pixel Remaster

Story is fine, has Very Enjoyable worldbuilding elements. Five-member party and order setup is a Lot to deal with though

Some more thoughts below that are into Later Game Spoiler territory. And in case you don't want to see good ol' creepy jrpg final boss Creature design. It's only 16-bit at least

Paladin conversion was cool. Esp the “fight urself” part which was Not Fighting. Inchresting to see a Conscience in the plot

Dark crystals and dark world like ffiii. Going to the Moon will be cool though

Heroic sacrifice count: 5.5

Update: 4.5 

Update 3.5

Update: 1.5 (Tellah and half Edward)

I predict Kain is next

LUNAR WHALE!!!! Actually a High tech space/air ship. Going to the moon! Spooky moon overworld music 

Golbez brother reveal didn’t really do anything for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Lunar subterrane was cool and tough final dungeon. It was like 10 floors? For sure a gauntlet that you Had to extensively explore if you wanted the Best Weapons

Zeromus final form fucked up and evil looking. Love that. Kinda reminds me of Metroid

[fruitycasket]

The Basket Case (Gore Fic)

Word Count: 5,034

Synopsis: Marvin does something awful to himself and Sunday is left wondering why.

Note: The gore is the most intense in Flense, but it reappears in the final part so it's not really avoidable here. Also sorry I forgot to put any of the British Terms in there U_U

I have not posted a fanfic on Tumblr in a hot minute, maybe even years. And I had this perfectly good thing lying around so yeah. It is also readable on Ao3 under RottenFruitz.

Flense

Flense (Verb, Transitive Verb)

To strip the blubber or skin (from any animal, but especially a whale).

The lines between pleasure and pain are bleeding, each melding into one another, embracing.

It must be perfect.

There is no sane explanation for what he’s doing to himself. For what he’s already done. He just knows he must do it, that there’s a presence in his head demanding it, pulling his strings while he’s helpless to do anything but follow.

It’s been that way since he was a child. Sometimes the hand on his controls are benevolent and sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes the hands are mortal, gloved or ungloved. Sometimes the hands aren’t hands at all, but they are something else. Sometimes they’re paws, or tendrils of white fur and whatever universes are made of. Sometimes they’re black claws attached to something that looks human enough at a glance, that might have been human once, but is now something at once cheerful and malicious and inhuman.

The first arm is done, the skin from wrist to elbow is separated, leaving a perfect flap of skin lying on the table in a pool of reddish brown.

Marvin has never had an affinity for cooking, has never butchered a thing in his life nor cared to keep his knives sharp. His hand is shaking, but the cuts are all clean and perfectly aligned.

The underside of the skin is beautiful, wet and red, covered in blood and thick with its sweet smell. The muscle under his arm is almost lost in a sea of dark body fluid, and the wood table is beyond saving. With the innards of his forearm exposed to the raw air, the pain is nauseating and welcome and making him blush in ways that he can’t and won’t think too much about right now, and he isn’t sure if it’s himself who feels that or if it's the thing in his head.

One more time, same as the last. The thing tells him to shift the knife from his right hand to the left, and he does.

The knife cuts a circle around his right arm, just below the wrist and a few centimeters above the elbow. The tip goes in at the perfect distance to carve the skin but not the delicious flesh underneath. Next to come is a single line connecting both circles, and after that is to tease the knife under the skin, coax it gently up and out, onto the table. Each piece that comes free makes a soft, wet noise, a tongue over teeth, teeth into raw steak. Easy, easy now, boy…

Did I hear my cat just now?

No, you didn’t hear your cat. Your cat is dead.

Marvin flinches at that. The knife goes too far in, glances across muscle and leaves an oozing line. A shared moment of frustration, then anguish that hurts worse than his arms—but that’s only Marvin’s.

The skin finally comes away and there is only pretty, pretty red, sweet, throbbing pain—

My cat, Higgins, I heard him again just now.

Marvin turns at last, and now he’s certain. There’s his cat, his cat that should be—he isn’t alive. And he’s standing there.

And behind him is an intruder.

No, a friend.

His mouth is dry, his head spins. The puppet master has suddenly let his strings go, its work finished, and now Marvin is falling.

“Sunday?”

The Rule

“Don’t ask him about what happened, alright?” the nurse tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear, “It’s gonna be tempting, but don’t .”

Sunday stops himself from asking, He’ll get upset? Because of course he would.

When Sunday found Marvin—after being led there by a desperately yowling Higgins, who had somehow known where Sunday lived and ran all the way there—he was certain Marvin was dead. He barely moved, didn’t speak, was cold as death.

And the blood… The skin…

Sunday held Marvin’s blood-soaked hand in the ambulance and waited to hear those dreaded words: “I’m sorry, he’s gone.”

But that hadn’t happened.

And now Sunday’s waiting, anxious to see what had become of his friend after he was swept into the belly of the hospital. He’s brought Higgins along, too. The cat sits polite and patient in a handbag he borrowed from his mum, almost like he knows behaving himself will get him closer to his beloved owner. And he might, given the incredible feat of navigation he pulled off to save Marvin’s life. Part of Sunday thinks that if things hadn’t worked out, if someone on Marvin’s floor had a cat allergy or the hospital just didn’t allow pets, no exceptions, Higgins would somehow magically appear in Marvin’s room anyway.

“How is he?” Sunday asks the nurse, running a few fingers between Higgins’ ears. The cat purrs.

“Quiet. He won’t freak out as long as you don’t ask the question , all the other stuff is for the doctors to worry about.”

“The doctors freak him out?”

“He hates it when they mess with his arms. Has to get sedated for check-ups and bandage changes. And now he’s starting to hate when we sedate him.” She grimaces, remembering something unpleasant.

“Oh,” Sunday says. He tries to imagine the lethargic, all-but-dead Marvin he rushed to the hospital suddenly springing to life, furious, fighting like a cornered animal when a doctor attempts to bandage his wounds, and the images don’t mesh at all.

Marvin's room is nestled deep in the ICU, but to get into that area in the first place, they have to pass a white mask. They don't allow Sunday or the nurse in for a little bit, abruptly announcing that they're free to head in a few minutes later. Another white mask is sitting on the other side of the door.

Hm.

“He’s right over here,” the nurse gestures to a room at the end of the long hall. Another white mask is there, keeping silent, perfectly still watch. This vigil is only interrupted when they turn their head a degree to better observe Sunday and the nurse.

Now Sunday is nervous.

If the guard plans to say anything, they don't get a word out. That's when the Twins step out of Marvin’s room.

Sunday is taken aback. They look… naked. They have no robes, no masks, no gloves, just a pair of sweaters, jeans, and a bottle of banana rum. Despite everything else that’s happened, this strikes Sunday as the strangest thing he’s seen in his entire life.

Does that mean they visited Marvin… because they felt bad ?

That feels strange, too. Or it would feel strange, if Sunday believed it. It always seemed like the two have no emotional attachment to anything and never did anything outside of work. Obviously neither of those things are true (he assumes they like each other if nothing else), but when the pair were so seldom seen and so revered, so feared across the Circle, it was hard not to get that impression. And now they were here, using their authority to bring bottles of alcohol into someone’s hospital room.

Then again, if Sunday were in Marvin’s shoes, he’d probably feel more chatty if two humans walked into his room, as opposed to towering white masks.

The Twins lock eyes with him and nod politely. “Sunday,” they say.

“I, uh—Sir. Ma’am,” Sunday nods back as they walk past, and then they’re gone. They know my name? The thought makes his nerves even worse for some reason.

The hall is silent once the Twins depart, leaving only the masked guard staring them down from in front of Marvin’s door.

“Visitors?” they ask.

“Just these two,” the nurse leads Sunday past, but right as she opens the door they put a hand on Sunday’s shoulder.

“Wait.”

Sunday flinches. “What?”

The white mask shifts down to Higgins, and Sunday is afraid the cat will have to stay outside after all, but instead…

“Who’s a good kitty?” the mask pets Higgins between the ears with a white-gloved hand, which he greatly appreciates and purrs loudly in response to. It looks ridiculous, but Sunday actually appreciates that a little. “Alright, alright, you’re free to go.”

At last, Sunday enters the room. The nurse shuts the door carefully behind them and fiddles with the handle as he finally lays eyes on Marvin.

He looks… small.

Not that he was ever big before. He was always scrawny, but now? Huddled in the corner of his bed, covered neck to toe in blankets, and steeping in whatever delirious thoughts drove him to mutilate himself, he’s the size of a flea. Someone’s bathed him, at least. His hair is no longer caked in blood, his skin looks soft and clean. But there are also huge bags under his eyes, and the eyes themselves are glazed over. He seems to take more notice of the door as it opens than Sunday or the nurse when he finally thinks to turn his head.

There’s a bruise on Marvin’s neck that Sunday immediately hones in on. The alcohol on his breath is strong enough to smell from the doorway—did they give him the entire bottle?

As Marvin sits up, the blanket covering him slips down and bunches around his waist, revealing gloves unlike anything Sunday’s ever seen covering his arms. Over the bandages are gloves that go up to his shoulders, strapped in place with regular looking belts fastened a smidge too tight. Each glove is thick and leathery, like the kind falconers wear. He's not really sure how hospitals are supposed to handle “degloving” beyond some basic things he googled while he couldn’t sleep, but this doesn't seem right. Sunday looks askance at the nurse, who chews her nails.

“Don’t know. Don’t ask,” she whispers, then makes an exaggerated, conspiratorial glance towards the guard outside the door.

“Right. Okay.” Higgins becomes restless in his bag, so Sunday gingerly sets him down on the bed. Immediately, the little cat hops out and plants himself on Marvin’s lap. “Hey, I…” Sunday says. He thinks of a lot of things to say:

How are you doing? I’ve been taking care of your house for you.

How has the hospital food been?

Why would you do this to yourself?

But none of those sound good, and one of those is forbidden, so he settles on, “I, uh, brought you a friend.”

Marvin seems afraid at first. He stiffens, and in turn, the nurse becomes anxious, too. He mutters something, something that might be, “I’m sorry,” and Higgins purrs, rubs his forehead against one of Marvin’s gloved hands. Whatever he’s sorry about, it’s water under the bridge now. The tension in the room is swept away as Marvin lethargically scoops Higgins up to bury his face in grey fur. Sunday knows it still smells a little like the blood that was splattered over the floor of Marvin's apartment (Higgins wouldn’t and couldn’t be forced into a bath), but it doesn’t appear to stir any negative memories.

“He probably won’t talk much,” the nurse says, “Maybe he’ll talk to you now that he's so… Yeah, I don’t know. Try saying something again.”

Sunday watches Marvin for a moment, trying again to think of what to say. “Did they give you that whole bottle?” he asks.

“Mm,” Marvin mumbles, “Probably.” He doesn't just sound drunk, he sounds exhausted . He may very well be using all his energy just to cradle Higgins, Sunday thinks, and then wonders if his silence is just his brain being too deprived of energy to form words.

“Have you been eating? Drinking?” Sunday asks.

Marvin says… something. Whatever sentence his brain strung together is mangled in translation by what might be an entire bottle of rum and general fatigue. Sunday thinks the words are along the lines of “yes,” but he glances back at the nurse to be sure.

“He eats a little here and there,” she gives an exasperated shrug, “Not much, if you couldn't already tell.”

Sunday figures Marvin has been lectured by his caretakers more than enough and lets that go. “Has anyone else come to see you yet? I’m sorry I was late, I had… stuff to do.”

“Stuff” in this case was going through Marvin’s house after a bunch of white masks and detectives combed through it. Once all the necessary evidence was photographed or sealed in bags, it had been cleaned out and left steeped in the smell of cleaning products. The kitchen and dining room, where the carnage was concentrated, were pristine at a glance (and still are). The only sign of grim happenings is the table, which still bears faint blood stains. They're admittedly hard to see if you don't know where to look, but Sunday could go back right now and tell you exactly where the discarded skin had been placed. The memory is seared into his brain and the underside of his eyelids. Some of the kitchen knives are gone from their holder, too, stuck in an evidence locker somewhere.

“Stuff” also includes finding Higgins, who ended up in his house again (somehow), and trying (and failing) to clean him up. He’d managed to clean the blood off his paws and that was all.

“Stuff” also includes an hour steeling himself for this visit.

“Thas' fine,” Marvin says. He sets Higgins down in his lap, reaches for Sunday's hand and grabs it. “Never been so tired before. Thanks for…” he trails off too quietly for Sunday to hear more.

“Think nothing of it, alright?” Sunday says. He takes the opportunity to look closer at the bruise he saw on Marvin's neck.

There are a few more fresh bruises on his shoulders, and it leaves Sunday to wonder…

He runs a finger along what little bare parts of Marvin’s arm remain, then hooks it under a looser part of the glove with some difficulty to peer underneath the leather, to confirm what he’s seeing. The nurse’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t speak. It’s like she’s expecting there to be no time for warnings. She’s expecting for something bad to happen before she can even get a word out, but Marvin is unbothered.

The nurse lets out a breath after a tense few moments pass. “ Don’t do that,” she says.

Sunday puts the glove back the way it was.

There are bruises littering Marvin’s arms, and while he can’t be certain how they were made, his mind can’t help but wander to grim places. However they got there, he is certain Marvin wasn’t bruised the night before. He would have noticed.

Am I being paranoid? Bruises can take a while to appear, can’t they?

Are there more? Where? Why?

“Do you know if those redheads did anything else while they were here?” Sunday asks.

“Um. I don’t know what they were doing in here exactly , obviously, but I think it was some investigative stuff. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem to like it,” the nurse whispers conspiratorially, “You know, my friend said she could hear him from”—

And then she stops, seems to realize she’s not talking to one of her coworkers but to one of Marvin’s friends. She swallows. “H-He didn’t seem to like it, and that’s why we weren’t let in until they were done,” she mutters. Then, after an awkward moment of hesitation she adds, “The doctors really didn't want them to. None of us did, but… they're them . So, yeah. I don't think it made anything worse, though. He'll heal just fine.”

Sunday squeezes Marvin’s hand. His grip is too tight, he knows, but Marvin doesn’t complain. More than anything, he’s amused, and says something with words too slurred to be intelligible.

The Twins were there to work, at least in part. It tracks that they would, that their methods would be ugly and he’s still upset. Upset and wondering why they got Marvin so drunk if they were there for work. To make him more compliant? To keep him quiet?

Sunday spends the rest of his visit holding Marvin’s hand, making small talk while Marvin does his best to reply through the drunken, traumatized sludge that must compromise his brain, and biting his tongue when the question tries to surface.

Made To Be Broken

Sunday doesn’t respond to the call until the third or fourth one. That’s the one that manages to wake him up. It’s the hospital, the voice whispering to him is the nurse who led him to Marvin’s room yesterday.

“Hey, I’m not technically supposed to be doing this but… something’s happened. Your friend is… is in a bad way.”

Sunday wakes up in an instant. Higgins, now a semi-permanent resident of his house, is nearly thrown to the floor from his comfortable spot on Sunday’s chest. “How bad?”

“Do you remember how I said he didn’t like having his arms touched?”

In the background, the sound of something heavy landing against a wall or floor crackles through the phone speakers. The nurse swears under her breath, drops her voice to an even lower whisper. “I know this is out of line, I’m not supposed to be doing it, but I thought since he likes you, maybe”—

Another crash cuts her off. “So?” she asks. She doesn't need to elaborate, Sunday can guess what's gone wrong and what she wants him to do.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

When Sunday gets to the hospital, he’s initially not even allowed through the front doors. There are white masks and police around the building’s perimeter, trying to explain to anxious crowds that everything is (probably) fine in the vaguest terms possible. A few of the masks recognize him as he approaches, though, and pull him aside to give him a more detailed explanation.

“Sit this one out,” one mask insists, “Your friend’s gone off the deep end, chased off all his doctors and barricaded himself in his room.”

“That’s exactly why I should get involved. Who do you think he’ll respond better to, one of you, or me?” Sunday argues.

“Your judgement is clouded. How do you know he won’t respond just as badly to you as he does to us?”

Sunday pauses. He realizes he doesn’t really know this will work for sure, he’s going off a hunch that he and a random nurse both had. But his plan has got to be better than whatever the current one is, if the phone call was any indication. “Just let me try. Please. ”

It's easy to forget that under the white masks there are people, as much as the Magic Circle would prefer them to be a frightening monolith. Something about Sunday's plea makes the masks surrounding him reconsider.

“Fine,” one says, “but it's your problem if they don’t want you there.”

They let him go and he runs through the hospital doors, toward the ICU. The nurse scrambles to accompany him and assure the various roadblocks inside that he's allowed to be there. She can't follow him too deep before she's held turned away by a small crowd of authorities, though. Sunday slips through them, promising her he'll figure something out as he disappears towards Marvin's room.

There, a few white masks are huddled, deep in discussion. Their robes bear various burns and rips. Some are tiny and some are grievous enough to expose skin. There's no blood, though, it’s either been healed up already, or the attacks were superficial, meant to frighten. Sunday isn't sure how to introduce himself, so he inches closer in hopes one of them will notice and do that for him.

“He'll kill someone at this rate,” someone muttered, “We may just need to wait him out. Everyone sleeps sometime.”

“You want us to keep the entire place on lockdown all night? Longer than that, even?” Sunday recognizes that voice. It’s one of the Twins’.

“We could have him shot with a tranq gun, if you're so impatient”—

“I can go in,” Sunday blurts out.

The Twins whip around to face him. If they’re surprised he's there, they don't show it. “Sunday,” they both say coolly. Their stares, though hidden by their masks, are as paralyzing as ever. It takes Sunday a moment to realize they’re waiting for an explanation.

“You two aren’t—I mean, I’m his friend. I won’t scare him as much.”

Now the impassive white masks step closer, regard him with scrutinizing stares. They come close enough that the glint of their pupils is visible through the tar black holes. The silent inspection goes on for far too long, stretches on across lifetimes. Being vivisected would feel less invasive.

At last, they look away, withdraw into each other to have a hushed discussion. When they break apart, one of the Twins asks, “You understand that he may just kill you if you enter?”

Sunday opens his mouth to say, He won’t , then reconsiders. “I understand,” he whispers.

The other gestures towards the door. “Then go.”

Sunday is given a wide berth as he opened the door and creeps inside.

The room has been torn to shreds. Medical equipment is overturned, drained of all power and cast aside if not cracked, dented, or bent. Scorch marks and specks of blood litter the walls and floor alongside the tatters of a hospital bed, pillows, and blanket. The ruined efforts of attempts to restrain him are scattered around, too. The remains of needles and sedative fluid on the floor aren't too shocking, but everything else is. Marvin, the beanpole that he is, snapped solid leather, cracked through metal handcuffs. 

The hairs on Sunday's neck stand on end.

It should be comical that Marvin as he is, tired, gravely wounded, and huddled into a tiny ball at the corner of the room, did all this . But right now Sunday is just scared. And, selfishly, he's more scared of what Marvin might do to him than of what will happen to Marvin.

The gloves are off, and with them went the bandages. Saturated with blood, they litter the floor in shreds, too similar to the neat rectangles of skin for Sunday to look at them long. There's something stranger to focus on anyway.

All along the raw arm muscle are new tattoos .

Sunday can't tell if the material is discolored flesh, metallic ink, or something else entirely. It shimmers in the fluorescent light like blood and seems to waver and move whenever he blinks. Every line is organic, struggling to be straight at best, if not outright curling and coiling around the contours of the arm it wriggles on. There is something unsettling about them beyond the obvious, some deeper implication Sunday can't place and has little proof of existing, but knows is there anyway.

“Marv?”

Marvin peers up at him from behind his arms but won't look him in the eyes. The raw, skinless parts are resting on his knees, leaking blood onto his hospital gown. It can't be comfortable. He doesn't speak, so Sunday tries to get a reply again without moving. “I got a call from the nurse. She said you needed some help.”

No response.

“Look, I can't imagine what's going on with you right now but, but you've got to let them look at your arms. It'll get infected otherwise.” He's sure it's not anything Marvin hasn't heard before, but maybe hearing it from the right person will make him calm down.

Marvin doesn't respond and keeps half-looking at Sunday, so Sunday tests his luck. He takes a single step forward.

“Don't,” Marvin tells him. The tone of voice isn't angry. It's harsh and rough from overuse, but it wavers, made unsteady by fear.

“Why? Did they do something to you?” Sunday isn't sure if he means the doctors, the Twins, or both, “Because I won't.”

“I can't control myself.”

“So, it's an impulse…?” Sunday takes another step closer and Marvin tenses. Sunday thinks he might understand what's going on. Maybe it's his brain's way of protecting him, trying to shield his arms and the rest of his body from further harm, however nonsensical it may be. If that's the case, he is pretty sure he's way out of his depth here, but someone has to make room for the doctors, right?

He tries to say as much. “Okay, but someone's got to get close to you sometime. If you let a doctor give you medicine then you won't have to worry about hurting anyone.”

Marvin opens his mouth, closes it, then outright looks away. “I know.”

Sunday risks a few more steps forward. His foot hits some crinkling piece of debris and it startles Marvin into looking at Sunday properly for the first time. They lock eyes.

Sunday feels like he can’t even blink.

This isn’t his friend.

It’s his body, but the inside of him is hollow, and Sunday is being sucked inside. And there are things in that hollow space. Things that have chewed Marvin’s organs and muscles and invaded his mind, things that he’s certain used to be white cats that are now webs of stardust, teeth, and fur. Smaller in presence are things that are black with infinite green eyes, cackling, snarling, and oozing blood. The thousand eyes are pushed to the corners by that impenetrable web of fur, and in their claws pieces of perfectly cut, tattooed skin dangle, raining blood onto Sunday’s face.

The inside of Marvin is bigger than the outside. It’s carved out beyond what should be possible until it’s a universe in and of itself, and his mind still exists but it's tiny and stretched thin. There are pieces of it here, pieces of it there, all drowning under the weight of things bigger, stronger than it.

And Sunday is Marvin, and Marvin is himself and whatever those things are.

Above him hangs a cat mask, watching, pulling him deeper into the labyrinth through its eyes.

He is trying to convince himself it’s just like falling asleep, but it’s not . He’s dying, and the Twins are holding him down, ripping through the tatters of his head in search of something. What they want he doesn’t know, but they’re killing him to get it. One time, two times, three, five, four, twenty. He screams, begs, No more, it hurts, I can’t breathe, and they put a bottle of sweet rum to his lips and tell him to drink, We want this to be easier for you. Just hold still. The entire hall will be able to hear that racket. Soon everything is fuzzy and difficult to recall, soon it is just like falling asleep, and there is a thumb stroking his cheek, tucking hair behind his ear.

He dies again, and when he reawakes, he is pressing the knife to his forearm, a centimeter above where his tattoos start. And before that he is crying, pleading with himself-who-is-also-the-thousand-eyed-thing No, no please, anything but that. Anything.

And before that there is the white cat, but it isn’t white and it isn’t giant, it’s a tiny thing, grey and white with green eyes. The little cat is digging its claws into his legs hard enough to draw blood, and his vision goes red. His sight is that of something with a thousand eyes, a perfect image of every angle of this grey and white cat all at once, but it is also the sight of two green eyes looking up at himself. A violent presence clouds his being. He draws his leg back, kicks hard, and there’s a terrible, unearthly yowl—

He’s younger, stupider. He’s small and playing with things he doesn’t understand, stuffing the organs back into eviscerated songbirds. He forces life back into the bodies and they awake, green-eyed, singing violent songs until an old man sharply wrenches him away from his work. The birds are bundled up in an opaque bag and he has no idea what happens to them after that. You don't tell anyone else about what you did here, not even them .

He can’t be older than ten, maybe twelve? And there is a white cat, and he is looking into his own eyes twice. Its huge claw presses into his forehead, slices skin and cracks bone—

Sunday is brought back to his own body with a ringing, burning pain.

He brings a hand to his cheek as the ruined hospital room returns. The smell of fried cloth and scorched linoleum, the splatters of blood, the shards of glass under his knees.

Wait, what?

Sunday looks down at the pinpricks of blood welling up under his pants, then ahead. Without his noticing, he crossed the room and knelt in front of Marvin. Did everyone outside see what he did? He hopes not, because he doesn't feel like trying to explain it, and especially doesn't want to come up with a lie on the spot. “Did you just…?” he asks.

“You were about to get lost,” Marvin whispers, and he makes it a point not to look Sunday in the eye.

I did something bad to my cat, Sunday recalls. It was the first and only thing Marvin would say as he lay against Sunday's shoulder, arms wrapped in rapidly red-soaked towels. The impossible memory of the thousand angles of Higgins is sickeningly fresh in his mind.

And yet, Higgins is still there, alive , almost completely unmarred.

And he is also, somehow, a giant white cat with galaxies for eyes. And that cat isn't even a cat, it's something larger. It's feline, every kind in existence, and also none, and something to do with… spiders and stars?

Sunday’s mouth is wet, his stomach churns. The idea that he could be lost in another person’s head is mind-boggling. He has no idea how that would work—what would happen to his physical body while his mind was absorbed—and he doesn’t plan on finding out. He focuses on the shiny, wet muscle and its intricate, possibly divine tattoos. It doesn’t help his nausea, but it’s less immediately dangerous.

He squeezes Marvin’s hands and asks, “What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” Marvin reaches for his cat necklace and squeezes it so hard Sunday’s afraid it’ll draw blood.

Sunday feels like it's staring at him through the skin and bone.

[grayrazor]

“Captain, you should have never taken Evangeline through that typhoon,” Jamestown barked as soon as I came down the stair. The engineer continued to growl through his white beard as he led me through the lower decks, “The winds ripped one of the screws (propellers) clean off. Number 3 engine is just dead weight now. But that’s nothing compared to this problem,” Jamestown gestured to one of the ballast tanks. There was a tear in the side big enough for a man to put his hand through, and silvery inertium was dripping up from it and pooling on the ceiling.

“How could this have happened?” I gasped, then, more practically, “how bad’s the loss?”

“I don’t know, Skipper,” Jamestown scratched his head. “I’ve heard stories about tornadoes sticking straw inches deep in tree trunks, but never any storm that could throw a piece of debris right through the steel side of a ship and the tanks inside. We’re lucky nobody was in the way of whatever that was or they’d be all over the walls now. Getting to the point, the ceiling should hold it for a while, but it won't be long before our ballast seeps between the deck plates and planks and falls into space--while we fall in the other direction. Between that and the lost prop-screw I give us maybe thirty miles before we sink.”

I pondered for a second. “I’ll have to check our position on the charts.” I sighed and undid the top button on my uniform, then loosened my scarf, “Don't get the crew’s hopes up. We didn't know these skies even before we met that storm. There’s no telling whether we’ll be able to get to a tall mountain or sky island to anchor and make repairs. At our altitude it’s unlikely anyone will survive a crash landing.”

Jamestown put his fists on his hips, “I'd die before leaving Evangeline to wreck anyways. I say we go for it!”

I tried to lighten the situation, “Where’s that loyalty to Evangeline when I need you and your lads to scrape the rust and parasites off her?”

He chuckled, though grimly, “ if you didn't run her engines so hard we’d have more boys and girls free for her beauty treatments instead of stifling boiler explosions or pulling hurricane-blown trees out of windows. Did you know Karlsdottir has been struck by lightning three times. Three times. Normal people only get it once if they’re lucky.”

“Didn’t Karlsdottir join because she thought working a sunfish trawler was boring?” I recalled.

“Aye. Hasn’t missed it once.”

I returned to my cabin and worked out from the position of the sun and various landmarks that we were about twenty-seven miles from a nameless, uninhabited sky-island. It was small, but not so small we would worry about Evangeline sliding off the edge if we ran out of ballast. Twenty-seven miles is scary close to thirty when thirty means falling to your doom.

By the time I had come up to the pilot-house to lay in a course the sun was setting. A wall of fog had started to roll in behind the storm we had weathered--right in the direction we needed to be going to reach the island. We would have to take it slow, lest we risk hitting inertium-infused rocks or befoul the screw-props on some skyfauna. The last thing we needed at this point was to hit a hydrogen whale or get an infestation of barnacle-gremlins. The slower we went though, the more time our ballast had to leak out.

After two hours I decided to let the pilot, Bjorn, do his job in peace. I walked back to my chair and watched the floodlights sweep back and forth through the haze, both in the air and on the bridge’s unwashed windows. There was nothing to be found on our old wireless, whether because of interference from the storm or because we were so far out in uncharted skies. Bjorn looked out of place among the brass instruments and steel bulkheads of Evangeline’s bridge. With his enormous arms, bushy mustache, and fur scarf he looked like he should be steerman on a viking longship rather than a tramp steamer. That, or like a walrus trying to pass itself off as human. Another hour passed with no noise, save for the wind rushing by and the churning of the engine nacelles. An unexpected sound was the one to break the silence: Leslie Chang on spotter duty, shouting through the speaking tube, “Wreck off the starboard braces! Half a mile off, four hundred feet above us!”

I jumped to my feet and grabbed my binoculars. As I ran to the nearest window I realized that one of the lenses had come loose inside, but any difficulty was made up for by the fact that all the floodlight operators had spotted the wreck and were training their beams on it. From what I could see it was the remains of an old wooden airship, maybe a century or more old. She was hanging in the air upside-down, her masts dangling below her hull like spider legs. “If she’s still adrift, her ballast barrels must be intact. This could be our saving grace!” I tapped Bjorn on the shoulder and he grunted in annoyance, “Bring us in close, steady as she goes. I’ll head below and prepare a boarding party.

Only four able-bodied skymen had agreed to come with me, the rest being old superstitious flyers who thought it was better to try and make it with what we had than to have anything to do with a wreck. Avery had been a circus acrobat in her former life; she was tall and thin but surprisingly strong. She would be handling the Mark IX grappling hook. Jamestown Jr. was the spitting image of his father, and always up for any dangerous task that he could use to impress. He and Karlsdottir would handle the barrels of ballast. And then there was Tex, who insisted he needed to come along for our protection. The man had at least five guns on him at all times, and I remain convinced that he came on all boarding and landing parties not for our defense, but because he had vivid and enthusiastic fantasies about shooting people.

We all stood along Evangeline’s forecastle gunwales as Bjorn brought us in close. Junior sputtered excitedly, “She’s not just any old hulk, this is an old imperial ship-of-the-line!” As we came past her stern the letters of her name were still visible amidst the airplants and algae: Antipathy, the most unimpressive name for a warship I ever saw. As Evangeline came around Antipathy’s far side we saw something that interrupted Avery’s grappling and stilled the hearts in our breasts: A long jagged crack ran along her side nearly from gundeck to keel. Something had all-but torn this cruiser in half. It was a marvel in itself, and a testament to her construction, that Antipathy was still one ship, and not a smattering of timbers, planks, and inertium barrels spiraling in the deeps.

Tex, as soon as he regained his composure, took advantage of an opportunity to freak out the more junior shipmates, “Ain’t no wind that done this. This’s the work of the Ziz.”

“The what?” Karlsdottir scratched her head

Tex was in full scary-story-narration mode, “They say on the week of creation the Almighty made three rulers for all the domains of the world. The Leviathan in the Sea, the Behemoth in the Earth, and the Ziz in the Sky. Not beast, not bird, not fish, big enough to block out the sun over an entire kingdom with its wings. A thing to make all the krakens and rocs pi--”

I had had enough, “You’d think something that big could do a bit more damage than this. I’ve seen angry hydrogen whales and wyverns do all kinds of horrible things to ships, even worse than this.” I hadn’t actually, but I wasn’t going to admit that, “Don’t overexcite yourself, Tex. You’re liable to shoot your fool self in the leg.”

Avery began to line up the shot in the linegun. “This would be so much easier if someone hadn't lost the skiff in the Jade Moors,” Junior grumbled.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Cake | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Wanda surprises you with a cake after a long overdue promotion at work

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 759

Masterlist

“Umm, watchya doin’ there hon?” you asked.  The kitchen was in absolute shambles.  Mixing bowls and spoons were scattered all over.  Batter and flour were plastered on the counters, the walls, the floor, and Wanda’s face.  She looked completely overwhelmed, her red hair messily falling out of the bun tied on top of her head.

She sighed as she leaned up against the sink, running a flour-covered hand through her hair and speckling it white.  “Well, I was attempting to make you a cake to celebrate your new job offer, but I think things got out of hand,” she explained as she looked around to examine the damage done to their kitchen.

“You know, I think this is what Agatha meant when she was talking about chaos magic,” you teased, picking up a whisk from the floor.  As you stood up, something hit the side of your face: it was flour.  As you looked at your white hand, Wanda giggled.  She had a mixing bowl in her hand, the remnants of her magic creating a red glow over the bowl.

“Oh you’re gonna get it now,” you said, placing the whisk on the island.  You quickly scanned the room for the nearest flour-laden object, which was the flour sack itself.  Wanda screamed as you lunged toward the open bag.

“Don’t you DARE!” she shrieked as you grabbed a fistful of flour.

“All’s fair in love and war,” you taunted, chasing her around the island.

“Y/N I swear don’t even think-” She was abruptly cut off as flour hit her square in the face.  She froze in place, eyes shut as she sputtered flour out of her mouth and nose.  It was a sight to see, Wanda standing there, already disheveled, but now with flour all over her face.  You couldn’t help but laugh.  It was absolutely hilarious.

“Stop it!  It’s not that funny!” she whined.  You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe as you bent over with your hands on your knees.  “I’m serious!”

You kept laughing as you looked at her.  She could say she was angry all she wanted, but you could tell she was resenting the smile that was slowly creeping up her lips.  Her smile quickly turned into a smirk.  Before you realized what she was doing, you saw her turn her wrist and felt the entire bag of flour dump on your head.

Now it was her turn to laugh as you stood there wiping flour out of your eyes.  “Okay, I probably deserved that,” you admitted, brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Yeah you did,” she laughed.

“You know what?  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that.  And to show you how sorry I am I’m going to give you a BIG hug!”  You extended your arms out wide as you walked towards her.

Wanda’s eyes grew wide with fear.  “Oh nonononono, don’t you do it, mister.”  When she saw you were serious she turned and ran into the dining room, but you were too fast for her.  She squealed as you wrapped your arms around her midsection and lifted her up.  “Put me down!” she squealed.  You obliged, lowering her until her feet touched the ground.  But your grip around her middle didn’t loosen that much.  Just enough for her to turn around and face you.

“You’ve got a little something on your face,” you pointed out.

“Where?” she asked, raising a hand to her cheek.

“Here I’ve got it,” you said as you leaned in to kiss her.  She brought her hands up and wrapped them around your neck.

“Did you get it?” she asked as you broke the kiss.

“Nope, let me try again.”  She giggled as you leaned back in to kiss her lips again.

This time it was Wanda who broke the kiss.  “I’m sorry about the cake,” she apologized.

“That’s okay,” you replied. “But next time, I’m okay with one of those ice cream whale ones.”

“Wanna go to the store and get one?” she asked.

“You serious?”  You raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Mmhmm.”

“Like I can get my own whale cake?  With the crunchies and everything?!”

“Why not?  We’re celebrating!”

“Come on woman!  We’re burning daylight!” You pushed her out of the way and grabbed the keys from the table, bolting to the car flour and all.

Wanda laughed as you trailed flour across the floor.  You might be a pain sometimes, but you were her pain, ice cream cake loving and flour throwing and all.  And she loved you for it.