#i'll clean this up and post it on ao3 later. as in after class

[missmanlykink]

yea…”homework” | clark kent ✿

MDNI - 18+ | navigation - m.list - taglist 𝜗୧ | COME TO MY I𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 (100 followers celebration!)

summary: clark kent is head over heels in love with you, and everyone know that. but when he offers to help you with your schoolwork, you take it as the perfect opportunity to make the first move (by sucking his cock)

paring: virgin!smallville!clark x bold!crush!fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, cum swallowing, sub/dom undertones, clark is a shy virgin, reader is kinda pervy and very horny, swearing, semi-quiet “sex” and corruption kink lol..? lmk if i missed any! (to be edited later)

a/n: okay hey guys! i have 3 things to say. 1. for all my baddie that are waiting to their 100 followers celebration fic, it’s coming soon :D i just wanted to get this out of the way. 2. sorry if the s-stutter is overused, he’s just like SUPER nervous around read lol and 3. i again stayed to so fucking late/early to write this (5am) …my sleep schedule is so bad. okay luv you guys! (will be post on ao3 sooner or later)

SMUT UNDER CUT - MINORS DNI </3

“Shit…i have 4 assignments due next week, and I have so much homework to do.” you whined to your friend as you both walked down the hall to get to your last class. Somehow Clark overheard you through the crowd of rushing students, and there he was right next to you. ”I can help!” he shouted out swiftly, like he was trying to make sure no one offered their help before he could.

Clark was in love with you, it was incredibly obvious, but Clark didn’t know that. He thought he was crushing on in private, but anyone with eyes that can see and ears than can hear knows how nervous he gets when your around, he’s so cute when we stutters over his words and pretty pink blush erupting on his skin at the mere mention- no, thought of you.

Once he finished his very quick sentence an idea immediately popped in your brain. You know how much Clark likes you. Everyone who is aware of you and Clark knows. Its a fact. And I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get him alone and pounce. You liked him as well, and you could just say that. But why not have a little fun when you do.

Your cheeks bunched up as you smiled sweetly up at the tall boy “Aw, Clark! That's really nice, thank you,” you remove your hand from your side and grip his arm softlyhis strong arm. He literally tried his hardest to contain himself, he wanted to melt into your touch. “Yea, anything.” a familiar pink hue erupted on his cheeks. You were both going to be late to class but it’s going to be so worth it. “So I'll come to your house after I get my thing, yeah?” he nodded slowly, the thought of having you in his room, sitting on his sheet, had him hot.

-

Now you’re finally at the Kent's family farm. You walk up to the big yellow house, and stand on their front porch. Before you could knock on the door Clark immediately opened the door. Your eyes widened in shock from the abrupt opening. He must’ve been watching you through the window, waiting for your arrival. “How cute.” you said in your mind, thinking about him waiting for you and about his very sexy appearance. He looked so good in that tight white t-shirt that clinged on his strong torso so perfectly.

And he looked out of breath, like he was trying to clean up before you got her—he was, his room was an absolute shit show. The slight of his chest heaving up and down got you even more excited to make him do that with your mouth. Yea, that sounds pervy, but how could you not. Look at him.

You had a plan. Up your flirting, be more touchy and bold. He was going to melt wax into your hands. Both of his arms and resting on the threshold, looking down at you with that smile–the unknowingly sexy smile on his part. “Hey, Clark,” you flirted , gazing up at him with the biggest fuck me eyes your could wear.

That has such an effect on him and you know it does. His skin gets hotter as he gets more nervous. “H-hi Y/N…” he says shyly, resting his arm on the threshold. This is already going perfectly. You both just kind of stood there for a second, you’d walk in he's blocking your way, and when he realized you couldn't come in the poor boy got embarrassed. “Oh! Sorry-“ he blurted out, swiftly moving his arm so you could both “get to work”.

You giggled at him as you slipped inside the cozy home. You walked around slowly, eye scanning the family photos and very comfortable looking furniture until you heard his mother call out “Clark? Who was at the door?”. Well you didn’t know his parents would be home, but don't think that discouraged you, now you think of this as a fun little challenge. Now you have to stay quiet. She stepped into the living room with a towel in her hand, wiped the residue from whatever she was doing in the kitchen. “Y/N? What’re you doing here?” she asked with a gentle smile, “Hi, Mrs. Kent! Clark offered to help me with my schoolwork. So I suggested we study at his house!” you replied, mirroring the expression on her face.

You were here to study, yes. But you probably weren't going to retain any of the information, you had a one track mind. His mom gave him a very knowing look. She knew exactly why he offered to help you. “Well, Clark, that was very nice of you,” she teased. You could tell in his face that he wanted to scream “Please stop embarrassing me.” But he said “It's nothing. I just overheard, that's all..” instead while rubbing the back of his neck. “Mhm, you two behave yourself,” Well..

-

You had followed upstairs into his freshly cleaned room, and he so kindly opened the door for you like a real gentleman. His room was very clean, practically spotless. Now it's time to put your plan into action. You walk slowly into his room and say “I didn't get to say this earlier at school, but you looked really good today.” You couldn't see him because he was behind you but you could basically feel the stunned look on his face. You turned around and you were right. HIs eyes were widened, mouth parted as he tried to say something back.

“R-Really?” he sputtered out, eyes zoned in on you as approach closer to him.”Yea…I like what you did with your hair.” his hair looked the same as it always did, but you couldn’t say “Clark, your lips looked so kissable today, I could swallow them whole!” That would be too much. At least for now. You raised your hand up so you could thread your fingers through his soft, dark hair and framed his face so perfectly and smiled. There was that pretty pink blush you always loved to bring to him. He was going to lose his mind. His heart was beating out of his chest.

You both sat down and sank into his bed. You took off your bookbag and sat it down next to his light brown bedside table. Clark cleared his throat before he spoke up. “Okay, which subject do you want to work on?” if you were going to compete honestly you didn’t even think about that so you choose the one that needed the most urgency. He was extremely smart, so you knew he wouldn't struggle with any of it. “Let’s do Algebra,” you reply as you zip your bag and dip your hand into it to collect your math folder. His eyes light up at your words. “That’s perfect, I've been told that I”m pretty good at math. You smile “I bet you are,”

-

You both got more comfortable on his twin bed, you kicked off your shoes, sat up against his pillow, legs crossed. You were trying your hardest to stay focused but it was hard, intelligence turned you on, and Clark using it made it even better. It was just algebra but he was just so hot.

His eyes were locked in on the pieces of paper that sat in front him as he explained each problem to you. Fingers trailing down the paper, you wanted them inside you real bad. You were about to pop the question.

“Clark? Can I ask you a question?” his shoot up to your face, fully unaware of how vulgar the question was going to be. “Yea sure, what is it?” he replied with a curious look. “It's a bit of a topic but, has anyone ever gone down on you?” He almost choked on his spit, you didn't say what he thought you said, right? No, wrong. His mouth gaps as he straightens up his back. “I- W-What?” he stutters with a nervous laugh. He genuinely couldn't believe this. This is exactly what you wanted, that look on his face made you want to jump his bones.

“So I'm guessing that’s a no?” you tease, scooting a little closer, trying to break the unwanted distance in between you two. He wanted to lie to you so badly–to save himself the embarrassment–but he couldn’t and if he did tell a lie, he may have missed out on the best that might happen to him. So simply shook his head, eyes looking everywhere but your alluring face. But when he felt your hand lay down gently on his thigh, inching closer and closer to the tent in jeans, he could no longer avoid your seductive gaze.

“Okay listen..” you begin as you scoot even closer. “I usually don’t do this, but I like you, Clark…want me to show you how much?” you purrs, palming his hard through his jeans. “Yes- yes, yes…please.” he whimpered between his stutters, blush traveling all over his body. He chews on his bottom lip as he watches you sink down to the floor, sitting pretty on your knees.

You pause on rubbing on a growing tent in his pants and start to get rid of his belt, unbuckling the strap of leather, but his hand is on yours faster than you could blink. “Wait-” his face was painted with guilt, you furrowed your brows, was this actually a bit too much? ‘What’s wrong, Clark? Did I go too far?” you asked, “No- not at all, but you don’t have to if you really don’t want to..” he muttered. How could a boy be so smart but dumb at the same time?

There you were, on your knees for him. Ready to suck him off in a heartbeat, and he thinks you don’t want to do this. And that is exactly what you said to him, and he nodded softly at your words, you didn’t mean to make him feel stupid, but he needed to get a clue.

You removed his belt, and finally you zipped open his jeans, you lips your bite in excitement, you could wait to see what he looked like under his blue boxers. You grab the buckle of his jeans and slide them down just enough, making sure you could easily pull his underwear down.

Clark couldn’t believe his eyes, he had the love of his life sitting before him, basically drool over him. You’re darkened eyes locked eye contact with his as you began to stroke him through the fabric. His mouth gaps at the pleasure shooting through his leaking cock. Pre-cum staining the inside of his boxers.

His little gasps made you throb. You bite your lip as you feel his hard, big, veiny cock—like you guessed. You know he would be big from the way he walked. It only made sense. Now the real prize was about to spring out of his boxers. Your fingers hooked the elastic of his boxers.

There it was. His dick bouncing onto his clothed abs—that you were going to see in the meantime. He was long and thick, the tip of his cock was bright red, like it was screaming for you touch it, and you listened.

You got your nails and slowly dragged it up and down his length to get a reaction, you wanted to hear him again so badly. That earned you a soft whimper from him, hips buckling up into nothing as you teased him. “P-please..” he murmured, begging you touch him again.

You smiled softly at him and decided to put an ending to his misery and fully grabbed hold of throbbing length. You slide you hand up to collect the leaking pre-cum, gliding it up and down. You heard his breath start to pick up, panting from the sensation. . “Does that feel good?” you purred, as you start to pump him a little faster. “Yes..” he whimpered, brows knitted together from the feeling.

He looked glorious. Even though you were sitting on your knees, you still felt in control and that was the hottest thing ever. His eyes are watching your every move, focusing on the way you’re stroking him, the way your face moves as you pleasure him so well.

Soft whine escapes from him as you lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the head of it, finally taking him into you mouth. You wanted to ruin him. You use your tongue swirl around his tip, making him bite back a moan that would’ve been way too loud—for now.

You begin to bob you head up and down, slick lips coating his skin. “F-fuck-“ he gasp, hands grasping on the duvet that sat underneath, hips jolting up into your mouth. Innocent farm boy Clark Kent swearing? You were really doing a number on him.

That word gave you the signal to work a little faster.

His head threw back as you hollowed your cheeks around him and you sucked him off, using your hand to stroke the par that wasn’t in your mouth. You use your other hand to pin his squinting hips down.

His skin was on fire. Cheek, ears and neck pink because of you. Salvia ran down you chin as you deepthroated him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Mascara streaming down your puffy cheeks. Then you felt him twitch in your mouth.

“Shit- I’m about to-“ he rasped out, heart slammed against his ribcage, and before you could do anything he release in your throat. Not that you're complaining, but you deepthroated a virgin, this was bound to happen.

Little praises and whimpers fell out of his mouth as he came, eyes shut closed. Hair falling in front of his eyes as his chest heaved up and down. You swallow his cum and take him out of your mouth. Immediately catching your breath. He felt so embarrassed. He tried his hardest not to but your mouth just felt so good.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to…You just-“ you cut him off before he could babble on and on and on. “Clark. It’s okay. We’re not done yet..” you said, grabbing his length back into your hand once again.

His hissed at the the shocking feeling that hit his cock, “O-Oh-“ he stuttered out, head tilting down as you overstimulated his already fucked out dick. He takes his lips between his teeth, trying his hardest not to scream out your name. Now this was a sight everyone should see at least once in their life.

You pumped your hand really fast. You knew it was going to drive him nuts. His hips jolted up into your hand, eyes screwed shut as his second climax hit him like a brick wall. It hurt so good. He sees stars as his release pouring down your hand. He was out of breath, his lips were swollen from the tugging his teeth did and if it was time for the grim reaper to take him away, he could die a happy man.

-

After he cleaned both of you up, you had to fix your makeup in his bathroom. If her mom saw you in the condition you were in she would flip. As you were cleaning up your lipstick, you saw Clark standing right beside you in the mirror. “Y/N? Can I ask you a question?”

You just knew this was about to be good. “Yea sure, what is it?” He cleared his throat before he started to speak. “Can I- you know…return the favor? I’ve never done it before but you could teach me?”

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[shesgaymichaelscott]

your stories are so good!! i started reading them on ao3 and was really happy to see you posting here as well :)

this means everything to me🥺. i love writing sm and the sweet cheeks fic is literally my baby so i'm sharing some other chapters! this is friendsgiving with the abbott fam and thanksgiving with melissa/the schemmenti family ❤️

Word Count: 8.9k

(fluff/romance, lesbian gfs in love, eventual smut, strap!, jealous melissa {thanks to kristen marie 😌}, melissa comes to a realization 🤭)

taglist <3: @writerspirit @schemmentigfs

Lilia stood at the front of her classroom, rubbing chalk dust off her fingers as she prepped the board for their Great Gatsby timeline. Outside, the late November wind howled against the windows, but inside, her eighth graders were buzzing with a whole different kind of storm—pre-break restlessness and a dangerous level of curiosity.

"Ms. Greenley," Jamir piped up from the front row, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "do you and Ms. Schemmenti share Thanksgiving dinner? Or do you just feed each other turkey and whisper sweet nothings about history?"

The class erupted into giggles.

Lilia turned slowly, eyebrow arched. "Do you want extra homework?"

"No ma'am," Jamir said quickly, but grinned. "Just curious."

"Oh my God, Ms. G blushed," Destiny whispered not-so-quietly from the side. "She totally did."

"Y'all are wild," Lilia muttered, turning back to the board with a small smile tugging at her lips. She wasn't about to let them know how accurate the teasing was—especially after the cozy weekend she'd had curled into Melissa's side, watching Real Housewives and eating leftover pumpkin pie like domestic queens.

A folded paper airplane sailed across the room and landed near her boots. She leaned down, unfolded it, and read the scribbled message:

Are you gonna be Mrs. Schemmenti someday?

Her jaw dropped.

"Okay! Everyone!" she called, trying not to laugh as she waved the note in the air. "Let's redirect our curiosity to the roaring twenties, shall we?"

The class groaned dramatically in unison.

Lilia was halfway through explaining the symbolism of the green light when a soft knock came at the classroom door.

Before she could even get the words "Come in" out, it swung open—and there stood Melissa Schemmenti, looking like sin in slacks and a cropped red cardigan, a smirk already on her face.

"Sorry to interrupt, Greenley," she said, eyes sparkling. "But someone left their lunch in the fridge again." She held up the little bento box with its telltale purple lid.

Lilia blinked. "I—how did I—?"

The class didn't give her a chance to finish.

"OHHH IT'S MS. SCHEMMENTI," Jamir practically sang, clutching his chest like he was watching a romcom. "She brought her girl lunch!"

"She's wife material!" Destiny squealed.

"Oh no," Melissa murmured, sauntering up to Lilia, "what did I walk into?"

"They're... being themselves," Lilia sighed.

One of the students in the back chimed in, "Ms. Schemmenti, are you gonna propose at Friendsgiving?"

Melissa snorted. "Not unless I wanna get tackled by Barbara Howard mid-sentence." She winked at the class. "But don't worry, I'm taking good care of your teacher. Make sure you are too, huh?"

A chorus of dramatic ooooohs rang out.

Melissa leaned in toward Lilia's ear as the kids erupted in whispers and laughter. "You owe me for this," she whispered with a teasing smirk. "Big time."

Lilia smiled despite herself, fighting a blush. "I'll pack you two lunches next time."

"I want something better than lunch," Melissa whispered, eyes dropping meaningfully for a split second before she turned to leave. "See ya later, kids."

"BYE MS. SCHEMMENTI!" they shouted, waving.

As the door clicked shut, Lilia turned back to the board and muttered, "We are never speaking of this again."

Destiny raised a hand. "I just wanna say... y'all are, like, endgame."

Even Lilia had to laugh at that.

⸻

The smell of too-strong coffee, orange-scented cleaning spray, and Janine's hand lotion filled the room as Lilia dropped into one of the cracked vinyl chairs with a dramatic groan.

"Tell me again why I chose middle schoolers?" she asked no one in particular, flopping her forehead to the table.

"Because they have the emotional range of a soap opera and you love the drama," Jacob chirped from the corner, where he was elbow-deep in paper turkey decorations and multi-colored string lights. "Also, because you're chaotic in a poetic way."

"Speaking of chaos," Janine said, breezing in with a clipboard and a mission, "Friendsgiving prep is in full swing, and I need everyone's food assignments locked in by the end of the day."

"Janine..." Gregory warned, lifting his eyes from his grading pile. "You said this wasn't going to be a production."

"It's not! It's just a lovingly coordinated, themed, potluck-based evening of togetherness," Janine replied with her signature grin. "Lilia, you're doing dessert, right?"

"Apple pie," Lilia said automatically. "Nonna's recipe. And maybe a pumpkin something if I survive grading these Gatsby character journals."

"Ooh," Ava called from the doorway, sauntering in with a caramel apple in hand. "I'll bring vibes. And drinks. But mostly vibes."

"We need chairs, napkins, serving utensils—" Janine began ticking off items.

"Girl, it's a Friendsgiving, not a wedding," Ava cut in, flopping dramatically on the couch beside Gregory. "Let it breathe!"

"Okay, okay," Lilia cut in with a hand raised. "What are we doing for music?"

"Oh thank God someone else cares," Jacob said, launching into a rant about playlists that didn't include "the same five Michael Bublé songs."

Melissa stepped in a few moments later with a bag of pretzels and a look that clearly said she was Not Here For The Nonsense. "Why is it every time I walk in here, it's like a therapy circle run by Pinterest?"

"Ohhh, the wife is back," Ava smirked.

Melissa didn't even blink. "And she brought pretzels. Which I'm hiding from Greenley if y'all don't get it together."

Lilia was still sitting with her head on the table and just gave a thumbs-up.

Janine, entirely unbothered, handed Melissa the clipboard. "You're on sides. Make your famous roasted garlic Brussels sprouts or face the wrath of Barbara."

"I fear God more than Barbara," Melissa muttered, scribbling her name next to the side dish column anyway.

From the hallway, they could already hear Barbara's familiar voice drifting closer—and with it, the realization that if they didn't at least pretend to be productive, the queen herself would give them all that patented disappointed mom stare.

"Alright, alright, back to work," Gregory said, pushing off the couch.

"Back to pretending to work," Jacob corrected.

Ava raised her caramel apple like a toast. "To chaos, carbs, and communal trauma bonding."

The Abbott crew all echoed with varying degrees of enthusiasm as they prepped for what was sure to be an unforgettable Friendsgiving.

⸻

Dessert prep meant extra practice, and Melissa of course was eager to assist. The apartment smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and sugar—an autumn dream wrapped in warm light and soft jazz from Lilia's record player. Her countertops were floured, her apron dusted, and a mixing bowl sat like a battlefield in front of her, halfway filled with peeled apples and brown sugar.

Melissa leaned against the kitchen doorway, one eyebrow raised, sleeves rolled up, and a suspiciously innocent look on her face. "So you're telling me this whole process takes, what—three hours? For one pie?"

Lilia didn't even glance up. "You're only asking that so you can calculate how much time you have to flirt and be unhelpful."

"Guilty." Melissa sauntered closer, wrapping her arms around Lilia from behind. "But I also brought wine. That counts as helping."

"It counts as bribery." Lilia reached for the cinnamon and shook it liberally into the bowl. "And I'm not falling for it."

"Mm," Melissa hummed, nose brushing against the curve of Lilia's neck. "That's what you said last time."

"Melissa."

"My love."

Lilia sighed dramatically, her cheeks flushed—whether from the warm oven or the woman currently pressing kisses to her neck was unclear. "If this pie ends up lopsided, I'm blaming you."

"I'm good with my hands," Melissa murmured. "Let me prove it."

"Oh my God," Lilia laughed, pushing her away with floured hands. "Go get the crust out of the fridge before I throw this bowl at you."

Melissa grabbed the chilled dough, smirking like the troublemaker she was. "Yes, chef."

"Don't you dare start that again."

Melissa rolled it out with exaggerated flair, and every time she bent forward over the counter, Lilia tried not to laugh. "You're doing this on purpose."

"I have never been so insulted in my life," Melissa said, eyes twinkling.

"You're literally wiggling your ass at me."

"Maybe I'm just happy to be domestic with my girl."

Lilia stopped, hands mid-stir. That made her heart flutter. "You're cute."

"I know."

They fell into a surprisingly productive rhythm—Lilia slicing apples, Melissa arranging them in the pie shell with shocking precision.

"I learned from the best," she said when Lilia complimented her layering.

"From who?"

"You," Melissa answered simply, brushing her flour-covered fingers against Lilia's cheek and kissing her temple.

The moment stretched between them—soft, golden, and heavy with something unspoken. Love, unhidden.

Lilia smiled as she slid the pie into the oven. "You're dangerous when you're sweet."

"And yet," Melissa said, leaning against the counter, "you still let me near hot ovens."

"I must really love you or something."

Melissa winked. "Must be."

⸻

Janine's place was warm, loud, and packed wall-to-wall with mismatched chairs, folding tables, and the smell of way too many side dishes. Her signature paper leaf garland was strung across the ceiling, and Luther Vandross crooned softly from her Bluetooth speaker in the corner.

Melissa, Lilia, and Jacob stepped in together, arms full of food and wine.

"Look at the throuple!" Ava called out from across the room, sipping champagne with one pinky raised. "Y'all look like a walking ad for gay Hallmark. I love it."

Jacob blinked. "I—wait, thank you?"

Lilia laughed as she handed her pie to Barbara, who was already eyeing it like it owed her money. "It smells amazing in here."

"That's because I handled the mac and cheese," Ava said, flipping her hair. "I don't play when it comes to soul food and vibes."

Melissa leaned close to Lilia and muttered, "You think she actually cooked anything?"

"No chance."

"Excuse you!" Ava popped her head between them. "I boiled the noodles. That counts."

Janine was bouncing between guests, beaming like it was her wedding day. "Okay! Melissa and Lilia are here! That means everyone's officially accounted for."

"I like that we count as one," Lilia teased.

"You're basically joined at the hip now," Janine said, pulling her into a hug. "You guys look cute."

"Thank you. It's my girlfriend's shirt," Lilia replied, smug.

Melissa made a show of rolling her eyes. "I knew I should've picked something uglier this morning."

Jacob was already mixing cocktails in the corner and gossiping with Mr. Johnson, who had shown up in a turkey hat "for morale." Barbara and Gregory were deep in conversation about stuffing techniques, of course, and Ava had taken it upon herself to critique everyone's outfits like she was hosting a roast.

They all squeezed around the table, plates stacked, glasses full.

At one point, Janine insisted on everyone going around to say what they were thankful for.

When it got to Melissa, she shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the spotlight. But Lilia gently touched her knee under the table, steadying her.

"I'm thankful for this weird little family we've made," Melissa said, glancing around. "And for good people. Especially one in particular who's made this year feel... lighter."

A chorus of soft "awwws" and some not-so-soft "ooh girl"s echoed around the room.

Lilia looked like she was about to melt.

Ava raised her glass. "To Abbott. And to love. And to me, for organizing the liquor table."

"To Ava," everyone said in semi-sarcastic unison, glasses clinking.

The night buzzed on with laughter, arguments over sweet vs. savory cornbread, and dance breaks every time the playlist hit a throwback.

Lilia caught Melissa swaying in the kitchen later, tipsy and relaxed, humming along to Earth, Wind & Fire while stealing bites of someone else's pie.

"You having fun?" Lilia asked, leaning against the counter.

Melissa grinned and pulled her close. "I always have fun with you."

They kissed behind the fridge door, unnoticed and unbothered, wrapped in the kind of ease you only find when you're truly home.

"What would you say about pulling an Irish goodbye and having our own fun at home?"

Melissa grinned with a glimmer in her eye, "Lead the way, baby."

The Friendsgiving chaos was finally winding down. Half the guests were slipping into food comas, sprawled across mismatched throw pillows and folding chairs. Someone had put on a slow R&B playlist, and the vibe had mellowed into cozy candlelight and lingering pie.

Lilia glanced up from Melissa's shoulder and caught Jacob yawning into his wine glass.

"You okay, honey?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Jacob sighed. "Just emotionally drained. Ava made me play Never Have I Ever with Mr. Johnson and now I know way too much about the Vietnam War and sex on the roof of the Franklin Institute."

Melissa snorted. "That's on you for agreeing to play anything with Ava after dark."

Jacob waved his fork weakly. "I need a night of warmth. Peace. Companionship. Maybe a heating pad and a romcom. Maybe a long sleep at your house—"

Melissa didn't even blink. "Nope."

Jacob blinked. "What?"

Lilia tried to hide her grin behind her cider. "Babe."

Melissa turned toward Jacob and patted his shoulder once—too firmly. "You've had a good run. But tonight? It's a no. You're cut off. Find another couch."

Jacob's jaw dropped. "You're kicking me out? After everything I've done for this couple?"

Melissa shrugged, standing and slipping her coat on. "Don't take it personal. You were always temporary housing."

Lilia stood up and kissed Jacob's cheek. "We love you. Truly. But I've had my hand on Melissa's thigh under this table for the last forty-five minutes and if we don't leave now, I'm going to start saying very inappropriate things in front of Barbara."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "You're monsters."

Melissa threw him a wink over her shoulder. "Monsters in love."

"Just don't get anything on my weighted blanket," Jacob called after them.

"Too late!" Melissa shouted back as she tugged Lilia out the door.

The second the front door clicked shut behind them, Lilia felt the air shift.

It was quiet except for the rustle of jackets and the low hum of the hallway light. Melissa set her keys in the dish, then turned—slowly, deliberately.

Her eyes landed on Lilia like she was the only thing in the room. "You really had your hand on my thigh for forty-five minutes?"

Lilia stepped closer, unbuttoning her coat with lazy fingers. "Mmhm."

Melissa's gaze flicked down to the motion, her jaw tightening. "That's rude."

"You liked it."

"Did I?" Melissa closed the distance in two strides, backing Lilia gently against the wall. "You're lucky I didn't drag you out of there an hour ago."

Lilia smirked, breath catching at the closeness. "You tried."

"Yeah, but then you did that little thing with your fingers..." Melissa's voice dropped, her hands slipping around Lilia's waist. "Got me all distracted. You're dangerous, Greenley."

"Am I?" Lilia tilted her head, her lips just brushing Melissa's. "Maybe you like me dangerous."

Melissa didn't answer. She kissed her instead—slow, deep, claiming. The kind of kiss that made Lilia's knees buckle and her body melt. Melissa's hands slid lower, gripping the backs of Lilia's thighs and lifting her off the floor without effort. Lilia wrapped her legs around her, laughing into the kiss.

"Someone's in a mood," Lilia murmured against her lips.

"You have no idea."

Melissa carried her straight through the living room and into the bedroom, tossing her gently on the bed. Lilia landed with a breathy laugh, curls bouncing around her face as she looked up, flushed and wanting.

"Clothes," Melissa said, peeling off her sweater. "Off. Now."

Lilia bit her lip. "Yes ma'am."

She sat up slowly, teasingly pulling her top over her head and shimmying out of her jeans with a sultry roll of her hips. Melissa watched like she was starving, pausing only to kick off her own boots and unzip her pants.

Lilia leaned back on her elbows in nothing but a lacy bra and underwear. "Come here."

Melissa crawled over her like a predator, nipping along her collarbone, hands already everywhere—possessive, reverent. Her lips found Lilia's again and she murmured, "Mine."

"All yours," Lilia whispered, arching into her.

Melissa was already losing herself in her.

Lilia lay sprawled beneath her, flushed and breathless, those eyes half-lidded and shining like she'd been waiting for this exact moment. Melissa pressed kisses down her chest, open-mouthed and hungry, sliding Lilia's bra straps off her shoulders with slow, deliberate intent.

"You drive me crazy," Melissa rasped, her voice wrecked with lust. "All night, the way you touched me under the table—"

She kissed the curve of Lilia's breast, nipped gently, then soothed the bite with her tongue. Lilia whimpered, her fingers tangling in red curls.

"Keep talking like that and I'm not gonna last long," Lilia said, barely holding herself together.

Melissa smirked against her skin. "Then don't. I want to watch you fall apart."

Her hands trailed lower, slipping beneath Lilia's panties, dragging them down inch by agonizing inch until they were off and discarded. Melissa paused to look at her—just look—like she couldn't believe she was real.

"So fuckin' perfect," she muttered, mostly to herself, before moving back in, tongue tasting every inch of skin she could reach, devouring her in worshipful frenzy. She kissed down Lilia's stomach, eyes locked with hers as her hands gripped her thighs and pushed them open.

"Melissa—" Lilia's voice broke as her body arched off the mattress.

Melissa didn't give her a chance to breathe. She buried herself between Lilia's legs with single-minded purpose, her mouth greedy, tongue skilled and deliberate. Lilia cried out, one hand flying to the headboard while the other fisted in the sheets.

"Oh my—fuck, Melissa—"

Melissa moaned against her, which only pushed Lilia closer to the edge, her legs trembling, her moans turning desperate and high-pitched. Melissa kept going, relentless, arms hooked under her thighs, holding her in place as she coaxed every bit of pleasure from her.

When Lilia came, she came hard—back arching, vision white-hot, a scream tearing from her throat as Melissa didn't let up for a second, milking every last wave.

Melissa finally pulled away, mouth slick, eyes dark and wild with need.

"Still with me?" she asked, voice thick.

Lilia blinked, utterly limp and glowing. "Barely."

Melissa smirked. "Good. 'Cause I'm not done."

She reached into the nightstand and pulled out the harness she'd stashed there last week, eyes gleaming with intent. Lilia's breath hitched.

"Oh," she whispered. "You've been planning."

Melissa slid it on with practiced ease. "Damn right I have. You really think I'd let you tease me all week and not do something about it?"

Lilia's thighs squeezed together in anticipation.

Melissa climbed back on the bed, kissed her deep and messy, then guided Lilia onto her stomach, tugging her hips up gently. "Gotta show you what happens when you make me jealous and horny in the same night."

"Please," Lilia gasped, already breathless again.

Melissa lined up behind her, ran a hand up her spine, and pushed in slow—deep—drawing a long moan from both of them.

She set a rhythm that was steady at first, then harder, faster, as the room filled with the sounds of skin, breath, and Lilia's ragged, desperate cries. Melissa bent over her, biting her shoulder, panting in her ear.

"This what you needed?" she growled. "Letting everyone see how good you look, knowing you're mine?"

"Yes—yes—fuck, Melissa—"

They moved together like fire and gasoline, Lilia collapsing under the weight of it, Melissa driven by nothing but pure, aching hunger.

"You're so fucking beautiful under me, tesoro. Such a good girl."

Lilia barely had time to catch her breath before Melissa's hands gripped her hips again—tighter this time, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough that she'd absolutely be bruised come morning. She didn't care. She wanted it. Wanted all of her.

"Mel—wait—" she gasped, but it wasn't a protest. Not really.

Melissa leaned down, teeth grazing her ear as she pushed in deep again, making Lilia choke on a moan.

"No waiting," Melissa growled. "You begged for it. Now you take it. Be my good girl."

Lilia whimpered, body shaking. "I am—fuck, I'm trying—"

"You're not trying. You're doing perfect." Melissa yanked her back by the hips to meet every brutal thrust, her rhythm punishing, obsessed. She was completely lost in her—sweat-drenched, flushed, and feral.

"Gonna fuck you until you forget your name," she snarled into Lilia's neck, one hand trailing up into her curls and yanking her head back, forcing her spine to arch, exposing her throat.

Lilia sobbed out her pleasure, eyes rolling, drool on her pillow as she took it, helpless under the overwhelming weight of Melissa's lust.

"You feel what you do to me?" Melissa gritted out. "You ruin me, Lilia."

The sounds were obscene—slick, soaked, absolutely drenched as Lilia's body responded without pause, her climax building again fast and furious.

"Melissa—I—I can't—" she cried.

"Yes, you fucking can," Melissa growled, snapping her hips forward so hard the headboard slammed against the wall. "You can give me one more. You're gonna gush all over me like the good girl you are."

Her hand snaked around Lilia's front, fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing with expert, filthy precision.

Lilia broke.

She came hard, again, this time squirting, her whole body jolting as liquid splashed against the sheets beneath her. She screamed Melissa's name, her thighs trembling violently, breath gone.

Melissa moaned like she was the one coming, rutting through it, not letting up. "That's it. That's my girl. Fuckin' beautiful."

Lilia collapsed fully, face down, sobbing from the overstimulation, hips twitching as Melissa finally slowed her thrusts—but stayed deep inside her, still panting.

She kissed down Lilia's spine, easing her back to earth. "I got you," she murmured. "I got you."

And Lilia could only nod, completely wrecked, blissed out, and entirely, irrevocably Melissa's.

Lilia's body was boneless, melted into the sheets like warm honey, still twitching with aftershocks. She didn't even try to move—couldn't. Her breath came in soft, uneven puffs as Melissa gently pulled the strap from her, setting it aside before leaning down to kiss the small of her back.

"You alive?" Melissa whispered, voice wrecked but full of fondness.

"Mmm." Lilia made a soft, indecipherable noise that was half sigh, half giggle.

Melissa chuckled, warm and low. "That was a yes, right?"

"Barely," Lilia croaked, finally turning her head to the side. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes still glassy. "You were... out of your mind."

Melissa climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Lilia heard the water run, then a soft rustle as Melissa returned with a warm washcloth and a tender look in her eyes.

"You make me crazy," she said, voice softer now, as she began to clean Lilia up with slow, reverent movements. "Don't act like you don't love it."

"I do," Lilia whispered. "So much."

Melissa leaned down, brushing her lips across Lilia's shoulder blade. "Let me take care of you, baby."

She helped Lilia up—though her legs were jelly—and guided her into the bathroom. The tub was already filling with warm water and lavender bubbles. She stepped in first, then reached out and pulled Lilia into her lap, both of them bare now, skin flushed and glowing.

Lilia melted into her like she was made to be there.

They sat in the tub, the water gently lapping around them, Melissa's arms wrapped securely around Lilia's middle. Fingers trailed soft, lazy patterns over her skin.

"You're gonna have bruises," Melissa said eventually, voice full of something tender and sheepish.

Lilia smiled. "Good. I want them."

"Naughty girl." Melissa kissed her shoulder, then tucked her chin into Lilia's neck. "I've never felt like this, you know."

"I do," Lilia whispered. "Because I feel it too."

They stayed there until the water cooled, trading kisses and quiet words. Melissa washed Lilia's hair, kissed the tip of her nose, and told her she was beautiful.

Later, tucked back into fresh sheets with candles flickering low and a soft jazz playlist murmuring through the room, Melissa pulled Lilia close, bare skin against bare skin.

"I love you," she murmured against Lilia's temple.

Lilia smiled, still drowsy. "I love you more."

Melissa chuckled, squeezing her tighter. "Not possible."

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft golden stripes, casting a warm glow across Melissa's bedroom. The air was still, quiet, thick with the kind of post-Thanksgiving-Friendsgiving haze that left everything feeling a little dreamy. Melissa stirred slowly under the sheets, her body sore in the best ways, muscles relaxed and limbs heavy with satisfaction.

But the second she blinked open her eyes, she realized one very important thing: Lilia wasn't next to her.

"Mmm... baby?" she mumbled, voice rough with sleep, reaching blindly toward the other side of the bed.

No answer.

But then—then she felt it.

Soft kisses down her stomach. Fingertips smoothing up her thighs. And then the heat of Lilia's breath, hot and purposeful, nestled between her legs.

"Jesus Christ," Melissa hissed, back arching instinctively. Her hand fumbled down, tangling in Lilia's curls beneath the sheets. "You're gonna kill me."

Lilia didn't stop. In fact, the little grin she flashed upward—barely visible in the morning light—only confirmed her plan to do just that.

Melissa couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Lilia had barely begun and she was already falling apart, whispering her name like a prayer, cursing under her breath, one hand gripping the headboard and the other fisting the sheets.

And when she finally shattered, it was with a low, guttural groan that echoed off the walls—her thighs trembling around Lilia's shoulders, her voice breaking into a laugh as she collapsed back down.

"You're insane," Melissa panted, pulling Lilia up and kissing her fiercely, lazily. "But you're mine."

Before Lilia could say something smug in return, Melissa's phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She groaned dramatically and blindly reached for it, answering with a rasped, "Ma?"

"Melissa Caterina Schemmenti," her mother snapped immediately. "You sound like hell."

Lilia slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing and buried her face in Melissa's shoulder.

"I'm fine," Melissa said, clearing her throat. "We had Friendsgiving at Janine's last night. Little too much wine, that's all."

"I'll bet. Is my sweet Lilia there?"

Melissa raised a brow at Lilia. "Yeah. She's here."

"Good. Because she better be at Thanksgiving. If you show up without her, I'm locking the door behind you. That girl is an angel, Melissa. An absolute doll. She brought me wine and tiramisu. Tiramisu! You haven't even made me toast since '08."

"Ma, please."

"I'm serious. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you. I'll come back from the grave and haunt you if you mess this up."

"I know, I know. I'm treating her right."

"You better be. And for the record, I'm already telling everyone she's family. So don't screw it up."

Melissa rolled her eyes with a secret smile and caught Lilia's hand under the covers, intertwining their fingers.

"Lilia's coming. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Good. And tell her I want her cannoli this year. None of that store-bought crap. Tell her I said that. And give her a kiss for me. On the cheek, I mean. Jesus, Melissa, I'm still your mother."

Melissa hung up with a sigh and turned to Lilia, who looked far too pleased with herself.

"Cannoli?" Lilia teased, propping herself up on one elbow. "That's a big responsibility."

"You've already won her over. She's not gonna let me live it down."

Lilia kissed her with slow affection, their bare legs tangled beneath the covers.

"Don't worry. You've got me wrapped around your finger too," she whispered.

Melissa grinned. "Damn right I do."

"Coffee?" Lilia pouts.

"C'mon, baby," Melissa gets up and pulls Lilia with her, giggling happily the whole way downstairs.

The smell of coffee drifted through the kitchen like a warm blanket. Lilia, still wearing Melissa's flannel shirt with nothing underneath, stood at the stove barefoot, gently stirring a pot of oatmeal. She hummed softly to herself, hair messy, cheeks pink from earlier. Melissa leaned against the counter in sweats and a tank top, sipping her coffee and watching her with a fond, smitten look that she didn't even bother trying to hide.

"This is dangerous," Melissa said eventually, eyes trailing Lilia's bare legs. "You makin' breakfast like that. No pants. Soft music. Domestic bliss. It's giving wife."

Lilia glanced over her shoulder, smirking. "Then maybe you should put a ring on it, Schemmenti."

Melissa choked on her coffee.

"I'm joking," Lilia added, laughing as she handed her a small bowl of oatmeal topped with fresh fruit and a drizzle of honey. "Kind of."

Melissa took it, still smiling. "Mmhm."

Before Lilia could reply, the front door creaked open—and in stumbled Jacob, wearing sunglasses and yesterday's clothes, looking like he'd lost a fight with a bottle of whiskey and some bad decisions.

"Jesus," he mumbled, squinting. "Why is it so loud in here?"

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "It's not."

"Why does my soul hurt?" Jacob continued, dragging himself to the kitchen island like a dying man. "That bartender was a mistake. I'm pretty sure he ghosted me before we even said goodbye."

Lilia passed him a glass of water and a banana with the nurturing precision of someone who had clearly done this before.

"I told you not to try and match Ava shot for shot," she said, patting his back gently.

Jacob whimpered. "She called me 'lightweight supreme.' I had something to prove."

Melissa snorted. "What you proved is that your liver is made of glass."

Jacob groaned dramatically. "And yet, here you both are—radiating intimacy and morning sex glow. I hate it here."

Lilia kissed Melissa's cheek just to spite him, grinning. "We're heading to the store soon. Need anything?"

"Dignity," he mumbled.

Melissa finished her coffee and stretched, muscles loose and happy. "You can tag along. We're stocking up for Thanksgiving. Ma made it very clear that if Lilia's not there—and not bringing cannoli—it's gonna be a problem."

Jacob dramatically laid his head down on the counter. "I will be recovering on this surface for the next two hours. You go live your perfect domestic life."

Melissa smacked the back of his head lightly on the way out of the kitchen. "Come on, babe. Let's get outta here before his hangover infects us."

Lilia laughed and followed her to the bedroom to throw on a cozy sweater and leggings, stealing another kiss before they slipped out the door into the chilly morning.

The grocery store was bustling, a pre-holiday rush already in full swing, carts clattering and kids whining and cheerful oldies music playing overhead. Lilia had taken charge of the list, scribbled neatly on her phone, while Melissa—unsurprisingly—was already going rogue.

"Melissa," Lilia called from the produce section, holding up two different kinds of apples. "Honeycrisp or Granny Smith?"

Melissa appeared beside her, tossing a random bag of kettle chips into their cart. "We're makin' pie, not a damn science project. Honeycrisp."

Lilia arched a brow. "We're making pie? I thought I was making pie and you were distracting me with loud opinions and snacks."

Melissa leaned in, smirking. "Semantics."

They kept bickering playfully as they made their way through the aisles, grabbing ingredients, debating butter brands, Melissa trying to sneak more junk food into the cart while Lilia caught her every time. To onlookers, they were unmistakably one of those couples—easy rhythm, casual intimacy, little touches and teasing that gave them away as deeply, comfortably in love.

That was, until they turned into the frozen section—and there stood Gary.

"Melissa?" he said, blinking in surprise. "Hey!"

Melissa stopped mid-step, her hand still resting on the cart handle. "Oh. Hey, Gary."

Gary—tall, awkward, wearing a Phillies beanie and a windbreaker—offered a sheepish smile. "Wow, it's been a while. You look good."

Melissa reached for Lilia's hand immediately. "Thanks. You, uh... how's vending machine life?"

"Actually—no more vending machines! I opened a little shop with my brother. And I got married!" He held up his hand to show off a simple gold band. "Got a baby on the way too."

Lilia watched Melissa closely, but Melissa's smile was genuine. Warm, even.

"That's great, Gary. Really. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. And, uh..." Gary glanced at Lilia. "This your girlfriend?"

Melissa's grip on Lilia's hand tightened proudly. "Yeah. This is Lilia."

Gary nodded politely, then gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Guess you were right to say no, huh?"

Melissa chuckled. "Yeah. Guess I was."

They said their goodbyes, and Melissa didn't look back as they walked away. Lilia squeezed her hand gently, and Melissa glanced over with a little shrug.

"That was the guy who proposed?" Lilia asked softly.

"Mm-hmm."

"And you said no?"

"Twice."

They kept walking, but something about Melissa's posture had changed—just a touch of tension in her shoulders, her voice more careful. Lilia didn't press.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," Melissa said after a beat. "He's a good guy. Just... not for me. He wanted a life I didn't. Marriage. Kids. Suburbs. It was all mapped out, and I wasn't even sure I wanted to be on the road, let alone the destination."

Lilia nodded, sensing the weight in her tone. "That's fair."

Melissa gave her a glance, something fond but clouded. "I think I thought marriage was just another way to lose yourself. I'd already done that once. Didn't want to do it again."

Lilia didn't push. Instead, she slid her arm around Melissa's waist, leaning her head against her shoulder as they stood in the aisle between frozen peas and tater tots.

"You're allowed to want something different now," she said quietly. "You're allowed to take your time."

Melissa looked at her, the tension melting just a little at the edges. "Yeah. I know."

They kissed softly by the freezer door, and when a little kid nearby loudly yelled, "Ew, girls kissing!" they both cracked up laughing and pushed their cart along.

"Alright," Melissa said, recovering. "Let's go get your fancy vanilla and get outta here before we run into another ghost of boyfriends past."

⸻

The kitchen was alive with clatter, jazz playing low in the background, and the scent of cinnamon and brown sugar already wafting from the oven. Lilia had flour on her cheek, a dishtowel slung over her shoulder, and was elbow-deep in mixing the apple pie filling with practiced precision. Melissa, apronless and totally unhelpful, was leaning against the counter with an apple slice in one hand, smirking.

"I thought I was your helper," Melissa teased, tossing a slice in her mouth.

"You were supposed to be slicing apples. Not eating them one by one like a squirrel," Lilia said, side-eyeing her without pausing her stirring.

"I'm quality control."

Lilia chuckled, shaking her head. "You're chaos control."

Jacob wandered into the kitchen then, bleary-eyed, wrapped in a blanket like a robe and holding a mug that said #1 Reading Dad in faded letters.

"You people are too functional," he grumbled. "I just walked in on a Hallmark movie and it's not even 11 a.m."

Melissa didn't skip a beat. "You're just jealous because you woke up alone with a hangover and we woke up to an orgasm and coffee."

Lilia dropped her head into her hands. "Melissa!"

Jacob pointed at them dramatically. "See?! This is what I mean. This is what perfection looks like. You bake together. You banter. You bully me. I feel like I'm in a domestic cult."

Melissa handed him an apple slice. "Drink your coffee and peel these."

Jacob did his best, managing to mangle three apples before Lilia gently took the peeler back and gave him a mixing bowl instead.

"Here. You're in charge of filling the cannoli shells. Do not break them. We only have twelve."

Jacob made a face. "Cannolis too? You two don't stop."

Melissa, already leaning behind Lilia to nuzzle her neck under the pretense of checking the oven, muttered, "No, we don't."

Jacob fake gagged. "I'm calling Janine."

He pulled out his phone and immediately FaceTimed her. "Janine. I need refuge. They're baking pie and making cannolis while flirting. I can't survive this kind of love bubble. It's too powerful."

Janine's face lit up on the screen. "Awwww, I love that for them. But poor Jacob. Do you need a safe haven?"

"Yes. Take me in like a stray. You'll have one extra for Thanksgiving."

"Deal. But only if you bring a cannoli."

"Done," Jacob said, and then, to Lilia, "You heard the lady."

Lilia tossed a bit of flour at him. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Tell Janine that," he called over his shoulder, already grabbing one of the pastry bags and overfilling the first cannoli dramatically. "I have so much love to give."

Melissa watched him messily fill the next one, a glob of ricotta splattering onto the counter.

"You're banned from cannolis," she declared. "Stick to moral support."

"And commentary," Lilia added, sliding the finished pie into the oven with a pleased sigh. "You're very good at that."

The three of them settled into the rhythm—Jacob sipping his coffee and giving dramatic monologues about true love, Melissa trying to sneak more filling into her mouth than the shells, and Lilia wrangling them both like a saint.

It was warm. It was chaotic. It was the kind of morning that felt like the start of a holiday movie. And somewhere between the second pie and the last cannoli, Melissa caught Lilia in the middle of a laugh—her cheeks pink, hair a little wild, hands dusted in flour—and thought:

This is it. This is the life I never knew I needed.

It was late, the pie tins were cooling on the stovetop, and the smell of warm cinnamon still clung to the air like a blanket. The house was quiet now, dimly lit by the soft glow of lamps and the flickering light from the TV they'd left on but weren't watching. Lilia was in Melissa's oversized Phillies T-shirt, brushing her teeth lazily in the bathroom, while Melissa leaned against the bed, scrolling on her phone, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

She was texting furiously—quick back-and-forths, her thumbs flying across the screen with the kind of attention that was usually reserved for sports scores or dragging someone in a group chat.

When Lilia came into the room, toweling off her hands and flopping onto the bed beside her, she caught the tail end of Melissa tucking her phone under her pillow like a guilty teenager.

Lilia raised a brow, smirking. "You hiding your Candy Crush high score from me?"

Melissa shot her a casual look, even as a blush crept up her neck. "Nope. Just Kristen Marie being annoying."

Lilia narrowed her eyes playfully. "Annoying how?"

"You know. Sister banter. She's harassing me about what kind of wine to bring tomorrow, like I haven't told her twice already. She's gonna bring Prosecco anyway, just to be a brat."

Lilia gave a suspicious hum but let it go, snuggling in closer, one arm around Melissa's waist as she kissed her shoulder. "You two are weirdly close."

"We're weirdly Italian," Melissa corrected, tucking Lilia closer. "It's a lifelong disease."

Lilia chuckled and reached behind Melissa to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into warm darkness.

Melissa stared up at the ceiling for a beat after Lilia got comfortable against her chest, then slowly reached for her phone again under the pillow. She angled it away, typing something out with careful silence.

She's the one. I don't know when it happened but... I want this every day. Every night.

I'm seriously thinking about asking her to move in.

Is that crazy?

The bubble from Kristen Marie popped up almost immediately.

Not crazy. About damn time. You're in love, Miss Forever Bachelor.

And I better be your maid of honor or I'll throw hands.

Melissa smiled softly, biting her lip. She read the message over again, heart thudding. The idea of marriage had once been something she filed away as a closed chapter—a burned one. But with Lilia?

It didn't feel like a trap. It felt like home.

Lilia stirred beside her and murmured, half-asleep, "You still texting Kristen?"

Melissa smiled into the dark. "Yeah. She says you're a perfect angel and I don't deserve you."

Lilia giggled against her skin. "Well, she's not wrong."

Melissa kissed her forehead, then the top of her head, and whispered, "I know."

⸻

The morning sun streamed through the windows far too early for Lilia's liking, but there was no chance of sleeping in. Not today. Not with Thanksgiving at the Schemmentis' looming like a final exam she wasn't quite sure she'd studied enough for.

She stood in front of the mirror, hair curled and pinned to perfection, tugging slightly at the lower neckline of her gold blouse—the one Jacob had insisted would "bring out your eyes and make you look like a sultry forest nymph." She wasn't sure if it said "respectable and lovable potential daughter-in-law," but it would have to do.

"Babe, you look amazing," Melissa called from the kitchen, her voice muffled around a piece of toast. "C'mere and stop stressin'."

"I'm not stressing," Lilia lied, applying another thin layer of mascara with precision that could rival a surgeon's scalpel.

Melissa appeared in the doorway, barefoot and casual in black jeans and a rust-colored sweater, still chewing, one brow arched. "You've put on perfume three times."

Lilia whirled. "Your mother is terrifying!"

"She's five-foot-nothin' and wears bunny slippers that bark when she walks."

"That's what makes her so powerful."

Melissa laughed, crossing the room to wrap her arms around Lilia's waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. "You've got nothin' to prove, Greenley. They already love you. Ma's been calling you 'the angel' for like three weeks."

"That doesn't mean she won't turn on me if I bring the wrong wine."

"You brought your nonna's favorite and homemade tiramisu," Melissa said into her neck. "You're already MVP."

Lilia took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Okay. Let's do this."

They loaded into the car, Lilia clutching the dessert carrier like it held a Fabergé egg. The car ride was filled with a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by Melissa's soft humming along to the Motown playlist they'd started that morning.

"You're really not nervous?" Lilia asked, adjusting her hair in the passenger mirror for the third time.

Melissa glanced over at her, smile tugging crooked at the corner of her mouth. "Nah, you're my date. I already won."

That made Lilia's heart flip. "You're so cocky."

"I'm right, though."

Lilia reached over to take her hand. Melissa squeezed back. The car turned onto the familiar block just as Lilia's stomach did somersaults.

"I feel like I'm walking into the Colosseum."

Melissa snorted. "You'll be fine. Just don't tell Uncle Sal you like pineapple on pizza, and don't ask anyone if they've seen The Godfather. We've all seen The Godfather."

Lilia laughed despite herself, eyes wide as the Schemmenti family house came into view—cars lining the driveway, laughter already spilling out of the open front door.

Melissa parked, turned off the engine, and looked at her with warmth and a glint of mischief. "Ready?"

Lilia inhaled slowly and nodded. "Ready."

Melissa leaned in to kiss her gently, then whispered, "Try not to let Kristen Marie steal you. I'm already on thin ice."

"Oh, I'm definitely going to flirt back this time," Lilia teased, grinning.

Melissa groaned, threw her head back, and muttered, "I'm gonna have to fight my own damn sister today."

Lilia had barely unbuckled her seatbelt before one of the littlest cousins flung open the front door and shouted, "Auntie Mel's here! And she brought Lilia!"

That was all it took.

Within minutes, Lilia found herself swept into a sea of noisy greetings, warm hugs, cheek pinches, and a blur of names she could barely keep up with. Melissa stood back, watching with a mix of awe and smugness as her girlfriend charmed every relative from the toddlers to Nonna Lucia, who'd declared, "She's got the eyes of an angel. Don't mess this up, Melissa."

"She's perfect!" someone cried from the kitchen.

"When are you bringing her back? I wanna show her my science fair project!" another cousin insisted, tugging Lilia toward a folder on the table.

Lilia, radiant in her shimmering golden top and high-waisted slacks, laughed her way through every question. "School's been good! Of course I'll come back! Maybe I'll bring books next time?"

From across the living room, Melissa leaned against the doorway, Kristen Marie at her side, both of them watching Lilia like she was their favorite holiday movie playing out in real time.

"She fits in like she's always been here," Kristen Marie said quietly, nudging Melissa's side. "You love her."

Melissa didn't deny it.

Kristen Marie tilted her head, a rare moment of softness in her teasing demeanor. "You think maybe this one's it? Like... actually forever?"

"I think about it every damn day," Melissa said, her voice low. "Scares the hell outta me sometimes."

Kristen Marie put an arm around her sister's shoulders. "You deserve something that scares you in the best way. You've been stuck with me all your life—at least now you got a real upgrade."

Melissa huffed a laugh, eyes misting slightly. "She really is somethin' else."

Their mom joined them at the edge of the doorway, arms crossed, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. "She loves you like it's the easiest thing in the world. And it is, for her. That kind of love doesn't come around every day, kiddo."

Melissa glanced back at Lilia, who was now holding one of the babies on her hip like she'd been born to do it. Her curls bounced as she swayed gently, her laughter mixing with the chatter and the music coming from the kitchen. She looked completely at home.

"I'm scared," Melissa admitted softly.

Her mom leaned in, kissing her temple. "You're allowed to be scared. But don't you dare let that fear make you lose her."

Melissa nodded, emotion catching in her throat.

Her mom smiled. "Now come on. Help me bring out the wine before your father pours it all into the sauce again."

The dining table groaned under the weight of platters piled high with roasted vegetables, lasagna, a golden brown turkey, and enough sides to feed a small village. Lilia was tucked beside Melissa, who took it upon herself to load Lilia's plate with exactly what she knew she'd want, adding extra stuffing and slipping her a wink when no one was looking.

Across the table, cousins shouted over each other about fantasy football, while Melissa's dad passed around his infamous homemade wine, sloshing generously into mismatched glasses. Babies were passed around like bread baskets. Lilia found herself holding a toddler one-handed while still managing to cut into her turkey. Melissa looked absolutely feral over it.

"She's gonna kill me," Melissa muttered to Kristen Marie, who smirked.

"You? I think she's already got plans to marry you."

Melissa nearly choked on her stuffing.

Dessert came next—apple pie, cannolis, and a mystery cake that no one admitted to making. Lilia got about three bites in before Kristen Marie flopped into the seat beside her with a wine-drunk grin and a conspiratorial lean.

"So," she said, propping her elbow on the table. "You and my sister. You makin' her soft on purpose or does it just come naturally?"

Lilia gave her a warning smile. "She's already soft where it counts."

"Oh-ho!" Kristen laughed, nudging her knee against Lilia's under the table. "God, you're fun. Are you free next Thanksgiving?"

Melissa appeared out of nowhere and set her wine glass down with a distinct clink between them. "No, she's not."

Kristen Marie just grinned wider. "There she is. Knew I could get your blood boiling."

"Careful," Melissa warned, arm sliding protectively around Lilia's shoulders. "You keep pokin' the bear, you're gonna get mauled."

"Ooh, a warning. How romantic."

Before Lilia could burst out laughing, the kids started yelling from the living room that it was game time.

Kristen Marie made it her mission to be on Lilia's team for every game. She whispered over-the-top guesses into Lilia's ear and leaned too close too often, until Melissa dragged Lilia onto her lap during Cards Against Humanity and declared, "We're a team now."

Kristen Marie winked. "Fine. But only 'cause she looks hot when she wins."

Melissa just growled and pulled Lilia closer, burying her face in her neck. "Gonna kill her," she muttered into Lilia's skin.

Lilia giggled and whispered back, "You love it."

Kristen Marie, however, showed no signs of slowing.

She curled up on the arm of the couch where Lilia sat, balancing her wine glass like she was born to flirt over cannoli crumbs. "So, Miss Greenley," she began with a slanted smile. "You always this good at charming Italian families, or are we just lucky?"

Lilia laughed nervously, cheeks pink. "I've had practice."

"Oh, I bet. You're all polite and warm and gorgeous—total teacher's pet vibes."

Lilia raised a brow. "Is that a compliment or an accusation?"

Kristen grinned, bold and unrelenting. "Both. You've got that 'read me poetry and then ruin my life' thing going for you."

Melissa, seated across the room in a recliner, had been nursing a bourbon and trying to play it cool. But her grip on the glass tightened with every passing second.

When Kristen leaned in, brushing a piece of imaginary lint from Lilia's sleeve and murmuring, "Bet you're dangerous when you want to be," that was the final straw.

Melissa stood abruptly. "Babe, come with me."

Lilia blinked, caught off guard. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just—come on."

She tugged Lilia by the hand, leading her down the hallway to the guest bathroom and shutting the door behind them with a little more force than necessary.

Melissa leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered and failing miserably. "She's doing it on purpose."

Lilia stepped closer, amused and touched. "Yeah. I know."

Melissa huffed, cheeks pink from more than just wine. "She's been like this since high school—likes to rile me up. But tonight she's pushing it."

Lilia leaned in and slid her hands around Melissa's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Well, I've got news for you. You're the only Schemmenti I'm going home with."

Melissa finally let out a breath, her hands settling low on Lilia's hips. "Damn right you are."

They stood like that for a moment—quiet, close, their foreheads almost touching. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifted faintly through the door, but here, it was just them.

"You okay?" Lilia asked softly.

Melissa nodded. "Yeah. I just... she makes me feel like I gotta stake my claim sometimes. Like if I don't say it enough, you'll forget how much I—" She caught herself, then smiled. "You know."

Lilia kissed her, slow and sweet, fingers brushing over Melissa's jaw. "I know. And I love it. You, being protective."

"I'm not usually like this," Melissa murmured, a little embarrassed.

"I think it's sexy."

Melissa chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again, deeper this time. "Well in that case..."

They were still tangled up together, whispering and giggling, when someone knocked on the door and yelled, "You two makin' out in there or what?"

Kristen Marie. Of course.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Go away!"

Lilia laughed against her neck. "You ready to go back out there?"

"Not yet." Melissa kissed her again, breathless and a little desperate. "Let me have a few more minutes with just you."

⸻

The night wound down in a blur of laughter, soft jazz, and the scent of leftover stuffing. One by one, coats were tugged on and kisses were pressed to cheeks. The kids emerged from the basement bleary-eyed and giggling, the adults moving slowly with the heaviness of wine and full bellies.

Melissa helped her mom clean up, tossing foil over trays and stacking dishes in the sink while Lilia said her goodbyes to the rest of the family.

Kristen Marie gave Lilia a dramatic, lingering hug and whispered in her ear, "Seriously. If she screws this up, I'll disown her."

"I'll keep her in line," Lilia whispered back with a smirk, and Kristen just winked.

Melissa's mom waited by the door, her warm hand cupping Lilia's cheek as she pulled her into a fierce hug. "You're a dream, sweetheart. Don't let my daughter be a pain in the ass, alright?"

"I'll do my best," Lilia chuckled.

"No, really," she said, holding Lilia's gaze with unexpected seriousness. "We've never seen her like this. Happy. Settled. Like... like she knows what she wants."

Lilia's heart squeezed. "That means a lot."

"She loves you," the older woman said quietly. "You can see it all over her. So don't go anywhere, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Melissa appeared then, coat in hand, tugging Lilia gently toward the door. "We outta here?"

"Before anyone tries to get us to take leftovers home we didn't ask for," Lilia teased, waving goodbye one last time.

They stepped out into the cold night, Lilia's hand finding Melissa's like it always did—naturally, instinctively. Their breath came out in soft clouds, and the crunch of leaves followed their footsteps down the driveway.

In the car, Lilia glanced over as Melissa let out a long, contented sigh.

"Wasn't so bad, huh?" Lilia asked softly.

Melissa smirked, eyes on the road. "You kidding? That was the best Thanksgiving I've ever had."

[wovenstarlight]

I got an interesting anonymous ask on the SFS Tumblr asking about the reasoning behind a bunch of Yoohyun's decisions that had… less-than-stellar outcomes, let's say? (LMAO.) and I'd like to keep the TL blog clean so I'm answering Anon here. I'm gonna post their ask in full for reference, because the answers to each individual question overlap:

Hi, thank you very much for your time, energy and effort. What you are doing is really amazing and admirable. I know you are busy enough and I shouldn't trouble you, but after reading the manhwa, I had questions about Yoohyun's logic and sentiment, and I became more confused after reading the novel and I don't know who to ask. Please ignore my message if it's to much trouble. 1: Why doesn't Yoohyun spend the last years of his life on earth peacefully with Yoojin, even though he knows that the world will end soon? 2: What did Yoohyun accomplish by leaving and humiliating Yoojin that he was persistent to do it for so many years? 3: Why instead of using his forces and technologies to protect Yoojin, he announces to the world that it is open season on him and he is worthless? (Normaly no one dares to harm the family of an S class but Yoohyun expose Yoojin to danger by abandoning him.) 4: Why does Yoohyun stop protecting Yoojin when the most dangerous part of Yoojin's life as an F class hunter begins? (Using his influence he could easily ban Yoojin from entering dungeons. Or he could have secretly formed a group of the most powerful hunters to go with Yoojin to dungeons. This way he could have provided him with everything he needed and keep him safe. That is, if he had any intention of protecting him.) 5: Why would Yoohyun gain all that resources, power, wealth and connections and he sit around and does nothing so that Yoojin would face death every day and rot in the basement? He gain all that for what, if not for protecting Yoojin? 6: Why doesn't he ever change his procedure or provide new options for Yoojin to stop going to dungeons? (Yoojin has no chance for a peaceful life due to not having a degree and being a notorious person. And he doesn't know about that cult.) Yoojin got to see his 30 years old birthday cause the cult didn't feel like killing him and he took care of himself in dungeons and was lucky that only his legs broke. So why would Yoohyun identify as a doting brother? The more I think about it the less I understand.

(crossposted on AO3, if you'd prefer to read there)

Okay, so, I'm really prone to rambling at length and this is a subject I have strong feelings on, so I'll give you a very short version of my answer in bullet points, and then a longer version with proper chapter-specific references and full explanations of what I think was going on.

Yoohyun wants to repay Yoojin for all the care and love he's given him, but as a 17-year-old, he doesn't have much social power

Yoohyun's Awakening puts himself and anyone he loves (i.e. Yoojin) in a dangerous position, because while he has individual physical power as an S-rank, he still lacks social power and also can't singlehandedly protect Yoojin 24/7

Yoohyun, in all his rash 17-year-old glory, takes the drastic action of cutting off Yoojin, planning to build up enough power to protect Yoojin and then reunite with him. Yoojin, as just your ordinary everyday 22-year-old, faces no risks other than people targeting him in order to hurt Yoohyun (I don't agree that no one would dare to harm the family of an S-rank, for reasons I'll elaborate on later in the long answer), so if Yoohyun's not close to Yoojin, then that cuts it down to "no risks at all", right…? So tell the media, tell the world, that no, Han Yoohyun doesn't give a shit about Han Yoojin. Yoohyun assumes he'll be able to explain it all to Yoojin one day and that he'll understand. (This should answer your Question 2 and Q3.)

But it doesn't work out as expected. Yoohyun thought it'd take much less time to establish his position than it does in reality (the assumed 4-ish years ended up as 6+ years). Also, Yoojin's gone from trying to make up with Yoohyun in a way that'll let them be together again (not going to happen, because Yoohyun's still not ready to bring Yoojin back into the fold) to being in his own terrible situation, so he's started lashing out at Yoohyun. So even if Yoohyun was in a stable enough situation to try reconciling with him, Yoojin might not be open to it by this point

Somewhere along the way, Yoohyun learns from the filial duty addict Diarma the world is going to end. He doesn't drop everything and go to live with Yoojin because even now, there's still the concern that maybe Yoohyun won't be able to protect Yoojin from everything, and maybe Yoojin doesn't want Yoohyun around, anyway. There's no use in going to live with Yoojin if it'll just end up getting Yoojin killed through Yoohyun's inaction (Q1).

So Yoohyun keeps maintaining his guild and his power so he can keep protecting Yoojin from what he thinks are the Real Threats. (Because the worlds of low- and high-rank Hunters are VERY different. Yoohyun probably assumes that because Yoojin's not facing the high-rank Hunter dangers, he's facing no dangers—a stupid but understandable mistake, given that Yoojin also assumed the exact same thing in reverse about Yoohyun! It sucks, it really does, but I really do think Yoohyun just�� didn't realize just how bad it was.) (Q5) And the world can end whenever it wants; if there's no challenging it, then at least Yoohyun's kept Yoojin safe in the meantime.

And the one danger they have in common, dungeons—you suggest Yoohyun banning Yoojin from entering any, but Yoohyun's cut himself off from Yoojin entirely, remember. Trying to interfere in his life would be met with (a) STRONG rejection by a deeply hurt Yoojin who doesn't understand why Yoohyun thinks he has any say in Yoojin's life anymore, and (b) interest by Yoohyun's rivals, who'd wonder why he's trying to keep his hyung away from dangers when he says he doesn't care about that hyung's wellbeing, putting Yoojin right back in their crosshairs. (Q4)

Also, the immoral people have been killing Caregivers of S-ranks. Diarma might have told Yoohyun about this. If he did, then Yoohyun's goals would definitely have gone from "stay strong and one day reconcile with hyung" to "NEVER get close to hyung, because there are beings outside this world, much more powerful than anything I can match in a reasonable timespan, who will 100% kill him". At which point, even if Yoohyun had wanted to reconcile with him, or compromise by just adjusting his plan and talking to Yoojin a little more, or literally anything past making a show of total and complete indifference, he couldn't have without knowingly risking Yoojin's life. (Q6)

You and I and all the other S-Ranks readers, removed from this situation as we are, can think of half a dozen ways Yoohyun could probably have gotten around things. But the simple fact is that in that situation, under that much pressure, with that much emotional attachment to his brother and literally everything that mattered to him at stake if he fucked up in the tiniest of ways—forget making perfect decisions, there was absolutely no way Yoohyun was going to do anything other than what seemed least risky. Because to do otherwise would be risking Yoojin’s life and therefore his own. And the choices you’ve already mades, the path you’re already on—no matter how bad it is for you, no matter how bad it is for the people you love, no matter how much it hurts—will always, always be less risky than the unknown path, because at least this way, you know what dangers to expect and brace for. At the core of the matter, it’s just that… the path that was best for Yoojin's happiness wasn't the path that was best for Yoojin's life expectancy, you see? And Yoojin can't be happy if he's dead. Yoohyun can't be alive if Yoojin's dead. That's all it came down to.

……oh my god that was so long actually. And that was supposed to be the TL;DR. The long version is going to be SO long. I hope you like reading 50-page passionate essays. There's a poll at the end, you can look forward to that!!!

(Also, okay, before we jump into the Deep End. Two disclaimers.

Anon, you said you read the manhwa and novel, but I read only the novel, so some of my chapter references might be unfamiliar. I know they shuffled events around a little in the webtoon, too, so I'll try and describe the general events so you can find any webtoon parallels.

Yoojin's a REALLY unreliable narrator and definitely doesn't know a lot of what Yoohyun's gone through. Part of that is because there's things he has no way to pick up on or deduce; part of that is because he wants to not think about Yoohyun going through bad shit; part of that is because Yoohyun doesn't want Yoojin worrying about him and has actively hidden the worse parts of his life from him. So a fair part of what I'm talking about is going to be reading between the lines and extrapolating.

Okay, disclaimers done!) Now on to the long version with references. Let's go point-by-point based on the TL;DR.

#1: Yoohyun wanting to repay Yoojin

I mean, the skill's called Last/Final Repayment! Isn't that enough? Where did you think that came from? There certainly wasn't anything Yoojin wanted to repay Yoohyun for.

Okay, no, more seriously. Yoohyun and Yoojin have grown up with only each other to depend on. Yoohyun has watched Yoojin take care of him alone their whole lives, with no outside support, keeping a roof over their head and their stomachs filled. For Yoohyun's sake, Yoojin has given up:

A complete education, with Yoojin having "dropped out of school to take care of his little brother", as mentioned in chapter 1.

A proper social life. In chapter 25, Yoojin says his friends in his early 20s were "middle-aged factory workers" instead of people his own age.

Hobbies. He says to Yerim and Myeongwoo in chapter 45 that one of his "few hobbies" is taking spam calls, but his character profile from the E-books volume 1 confirms it's his only hobby, and one that's now fading… which leaves him with zero personal interests. (The spam calling thing is almost certainly something that sprouted from loneliness in the years that the brothers were separated, by the way. After all, why would Yoojin waste time listening to some stranger on the phone talk to him about something he doesn’t care about? Most likely because there isn’t—wasn’t—really anyone else who’s willing to talk to him, anymore.)

The sole birthday present of "a 10,000 won bill to buy something tasty to have with his friends" he got from their parents, which "would be used for Han Yoohyun’s birthday. As [it was] every year", as mentioned in chapter 239, during Yoohyun’s flashback to childhood.

And Yoohyun, a helpless child, could only watch as Yoojin gave up all of that, to no real benefit of his own, just to focus all his attention and resources on supporting Yoohyun.

By the time he was in middle school, Yoohyun was already talking about becoming a doctor since it'd be "advantageous in a lot of aspects"; he says he "just wanted to make it so you [Yoojin] could live comfortably" (chapter 258). Yoojin wouldn't have to be the sole earner, and would've been able to pursue his own happiness as well as Yoohyun's. Yoohyun wants very badly for Yoojin to not have to worry about him anymore. It makes sense that that sentiment would remain even after he Awakened.

#2: Yoohyun's Awakening

And boy what an Awakening it was! Straight from a random orphaned kid with zero social life and decent grades to one of the world's most desirable and dangerous individuals, basically overnight. He has none of the social sway that the rich and well-connected Sung Hyunjae or the professional athletes Moon Hyuna and Choi Sukwon do, and he refuses to get the help of big corporations like Choi Sukwon and Bak Mingyu (and Yoon Kyeongsoo? I forget if Soodam was also a corp-backed guild). So he's got no power, but he's also declared his intent to create a guild, and that combined with his nature as a born S-rank makes people perceive him as a threat. Maybe not so much in the early days, when people think he's just an arrogant, stupid kid who's going to crash and burn, but definitely more so as time passed, which Sung Hyunjae confirms in chapter 152:

“Wasn’t [Han Yoohyun] at the age where one faces a lot of problems, starting out living alone?” […] “He wasn’t even alone, strictly speaking. I heard Team Head Seok and the others joined Haeyeon early on.” I heard that Seok Simyeong had visited Yoohyun-ie even before Haeyeon was founded. He was still annoying, but I had to give him his share of the credit for Haeyeon. Sung Hyunjae gave a small nod at my words. “Even so, it isn’t easy for a latecomer to find his place.” “That’s… You’re right.” “For the first year or so, it was easier. Since most of them said Haeyeon wouldn’t be able to properly establish itself.” Sung Hyunjae also said he hadn’t been interested in Haeyeon—in Yoohyun-ie—at the time, either. “The problem arose when it started to become a major guild.”

The second the initial "LOL, this has got to be a joke, right?" blinders come off, he's at risk. And he would've known that this would happen right from the start—Yoohyun's smart enough that he would've understood the lack of attacks was just because they didn't see him as a real threat yet.

So, again: a latecomer on the scene with no power and no experience to his name, and seen as a threat to deal with. No social connections means he has no one to rely on to help him with Yoojin's protection: it's up to him alone. And even S-ranks have to eat and sleep and use the bathroom and do half a dozen other things that would pull him away from Yoojin's side, not to mention the all-important requirement of raiding dungeons, which Yoohyun himself admits in chapter 71 was one of his main concerns:

“Once I start a raid on an S-rank dungeon, I’ll be gone for a week […]. Me… avoiding you… was also largely due to the S-rank dungeon raid time. Since, obviously, I can’t look after you once I go into the dungeon.”

So Yoohyun himself can't just stay by Yoojin's side as his bodyguard 24/7. He'd have to leave him unattended for, at minimum, whole weeks. Which means he doesn't have a reliable, sure way to keep his hyung safe.

#3: Cutting off Yoojin, and the risks to an S-rank's family

And that's not even mentioning his own safety. What happens when Yoohyun's hurt and can't help with guarding Yoojin? And he will be hurt, either by dungeon raids or other people. If you don't think that second one is a concern, as early as chapter 6, when Yoojin and Yoohyun are having their first meal together, Yoojin asks about Yoohyun's ability to cook, and he says he taught himself:

“I’ve got items for detoxification and de-cursing, now, but I didn’t have them before. So making my own food felt safer. Even now, when I enter dungeons, I bring dried rations I made myself. Since it’s most dangerous inside dungeons.” “…Detoxification? De-cursing?” What was I hearing right now? As in, there were bastards who’d poison and curse his food, so he had to make it himself… that sort of thing?

Yoohyun himself, a strong, healthy S-rank with a good constitution and one hell of a temper, was at risk of being poisoned and cursed through something as everyday as food. You said that normally, no one would dare attack the family of an S-rank—but if people are willing to attack the S-rank himself, knowing that he'll kill them for sure if it fails and he learns they're behind it, then what's stopping them from attacking the S-rank's family?

There's two points you could argue:

Yoohyun says in the chapter 6 conversation that "It’s a major crime for an Awakened person to target an Unawakened person, so I made them think it wasn’t worth it to risk going after you." But that'd only last for the 3 years up until Yoojin Awakened, and honestly, there's a real risk that anyone targeting Yoojin before that time would just be rich or socially connected enough that they could make the charges go away.

The other argument that if they attack an S-rank's beloved family and that fails, now the S-rank is coming after them with a vengeance, and he's not even suffering from the aftermath of poisoning or a curse to weaken him in the slightest, so that might scare them off. But, like… people do stupid things when they're desperate. In that kidnapping where Yoojin met the Krecke Blackie (chapters 46–49), sure, Yoojin had his own special skills that made him valuable, but he also had five major guilds and the Association all dedicated to his protection. That's several times the protection a single S-rank could offer, and some idiots who weren't even in a desperate situation still tried to go after him for benefits similar to what you'd get from having leverage over an S-rank. So I really don't think anything would stop people from threatening Yoojin. If anything, the combined facts of Yoohyun starting out from a weak position, Yoohyun obviously caring about Yoojin, and Yoojin being so much weaker than Yoohyun would make that the best option by far, if you wanted to hurt Yoohyun. After all, it’s not like Unawakened F-rank Yoojin can fight back himself, and again, Yoohyun isn’t going to fight you if it would risk Yoojin’s life.

So, Yoohyun goes "if I distance myself from hyung and make people think it WON'T hurt me for him to be hurt, then people have no reason to target him!" and follows through. I do think this was a stupid move on his part, even if he intended to explain it all to Yoojin eventually, because by not letting him in on the secret right from the start, he guaranteed that Yoojin would be hurt and upset by his sole remaining family member seemingly abandoning him for better prospects. Which leads Yoojin to start making his own stupid moves, which snowballs into a series of bad decisions on both their parts, and so on… but we'll get to that in a minute. The problem, I think, is that this plan could've worked, if only Yoohyun had told Yoojin at the start, so that Yoojin knew not to draw attention to himself. Maybe they could've done regular calls on burner phones or something, to stay in touch, and they'd have been happier that way.

Unfortunately that didn't happen. Why? Because, as Yoohyun states in that same conversation in chapter 6, he "didn’t want to burden" Yoojin. Yoohyun's desire to protect Yoojin is not just physical, but also mental/emotional—he doesn't want Yoojin to know that Yoohyun's going through all this trouble of leaving home and dealing with threats to his life and making big decisions, because he doesn't want Yoojin to worry.

[EDIT: And actually, thinking back over this, do you realize—Yoojin always talks about how Yoohyun was a delight of a child to raise, never complaining, never throwing tantrums, wonderfully behaved and always doing as he was told. Enough so that Moon Hyuna has to tell him, explicitly, in Chapter 43, that that’s not normal, in those exact words:

“He was a good younger brother who never needed to be scolded. Ever since he was little, he listened well and didn’t worry me…….” “You said you were the one to raise him, right? After you lost your parents early. That’s not normal.” She clicked her tongue and continued. “A good, obedient little brother from a poor family without parents. That sort of thing doesn’t even appear in children’s fairy tales these days. Because it’s not realistic.” “I mean, to go that far—” “Kids are kids. They get frustrated and angry if there’s something lacking, they make trouble to get attention, they compare themselves with others, and beyond begging their parents to buy them something they want, they might even resent them. Parents might still think their kids are cute, but brothers? To them, they’re just enemy bastards; I also have a younger sibling, so I know. Of course, there are brothers and sisters who get along. In peaceful households where their parents take good care of them. Even then, it’s not like they never fight. Younger brothers in particular are a type that need to be put in their place; older siblings the world across would probably agree.”

This suggests that Yoohyun and Yoojin have never, ever, EVER experienced conflict on major life decisions. Not once have they argued about Yoohyun making choices that Yoojin wouldn’t like. Which means Yoohyun approached cutting off Yoojin with a very particular mindset, and I have some guesses as to what exactly that mindset was. Do you think he hoped Yoojin would understand that his perennially well-behaved brother would have some reason for leaving home? Do you think he just… didn’t know how to approach telling Yoojin about his choice, knowing it’d upset him so much, so he simply didn’t and hoped for the best? Or was it something else entirely?

Either way: Yoohyun absolutely did not know what would come of this choice. He definitely did not expect just how hard it would be on Yoojin. At the time, he was probably just wanting to spare Yoojin the heartache of their first major argument about Yoohyun’s life choices.] And it's that very desire to not bother him with the knowledge of how much Yoohyun's suffering that eventually makes things go wrong and both of them suffer for it.

#4: Yoohyun's strategy failing

What do we know about Yoohyun's plan going wrong? We know that Yoohyun intended to wipe out his enemies before even thinking about allowing Yoojin into danger. In that conversation in chapter 6, he tells Yoojin to wait "just 1 year" and to basically live in confinement, locked up safe inside Haeyeon, until Yoohyun's done. Combined with the 3 years since the dungeons appearing and Yoohyun Awakening, that means he thought it'd take maybe 4 years in total, with hurrying at the end to accommodate Yoojin already being involved with him again. Yoojin says in narration that pre-regression, it took him 3 years instead of the 1 he's proposing, which puts us at a total of 6 years minimum before Yoohyun could even think about reuniting with Yoojin.

But, of course, a lot can and did happen in those 6 years. Within the first 3, the brothers' relationship had deteriorated enough that Yoojin blocked Yoohyun's number, as mentioned in chapter 32 by Yoohyun to Yoojin during novice Hunter training:

“You got angry and told me not to call, remember? You even blocked my number.”

Why was Yoojin angry? See chapter 158, when Yoohyun was temporarily amnesiac due to Jellyfish's fog:

“I’m certain I told you not to come near me.” …I remembered. When I’d heard that, I’d blocked Yoohyun’s number, telling him not to call me back.

Yoohyun's repeated refusal to tell Yoojin about his plans, just telling him they had to stay apart, only worsened their relationship. And while Yoohyun did attempt to reach out and help Yoojin in ways such as sending him money to cover living expenses (probably hoping to repair their rapidly deteriorating relationship), that also made it worse, with Yoojin rejecting all of those attempts. As he explains in chapter 274, during the flashbacks induced by Jellyfish in their fight:

Gritting my teeth, I sent back the money Yoohyun-ie sent me without even laying a finger on it. To the me of that time, it was horrible money that my young brother had as good as traded his life for. Yoohyun-ie wanted me to accept living expenses and stay safe, but I believed my brother was being sent to his own death and could never accept it.

It isn't like Yoohyun didn't try to reach out. He did. The problem was that all of his attempts were undercut by his continued refusal to tell Yoojin why he had distanced himself, such that all those attempts at staying in touch only rubbed salt in the wound of being abandoned. And as early as 3 years in, by his own admission in chapter 6, Yoohyun starts to think that things have gotten so bad that even if he tries to confess everything now, Yoojin might not "be understanding". He might not be willing to let go of his hurt and resentment to reconcile with him.

So should he stop reaching out, then? Surely there's still hope that they can reconcile in the future. Someday, maybe, when Yoohyun's sure he can protect Yoojin, even if Yoojin doesn't want to be with/near him.

#5: Learning about the world ending

Only, there's a deadline imposed by the end of the world, which Yoohyun learns about from filial duty addict Diarma. Part of the contract with the filial duty addicts, as Sung Hyunjae explains in chapter 102, is not interfering with said end of the world. Actually, the contractors have to give "their word that they’ll eliminate obstacles" i.e. other people fighting against the end of the world, so Yoohyun can't do anything about this deadline. This gives him a limited amount of time in which he can "eventually" reconcile with Yoojin.

So, as you ask, Anon, why not spend that limited time with his brother? Well, just because there's an end of the world approaching—which Yoohyun can't even talk about! L-rank contract, remember—doesn't mean that Yoojin is 🌟magically🌟 going to get any less mad about Yoohyun abandoning him for several years than before. Yoohyun still doesn't want to explain, so that argument is absolutely not getting resolved.

Even if he tries to explain vaguely that there's some threat and that he'd like Yoojin to live with him or at least accept his offers of protection and security, what happens if Yoojin refuses? Yoohyun clearly isn't willing to violate Yoojin's desires too far, since the most certain way to keep him safe would be to lock him up in a vault somewhere inside Haeyeon and never let anyone else see him, but that would trample all over his free will and happiness, not to mention it'd ruin Yoohyun's "live normally and happily with hyung" goals. So he'll have to let Yoojin stay out in the world, while all of Yoohyun's rivals and enemies are still out there, watching the Haeyeon Guild Leader reach out to his brother and wondering if they've reconciled. At that point, it doesn't matter if they actually have made up or not. If someone even suspects that Yoojin is close to Yoohyun, then they'll target him on the off-chance that it's true. And if Yoojin did refuse Yoohyun's offers, which he's almost certain to, then he's defenseless against whatever attacks come. And they will come. In chapter 6, Yoohyun admitted that a single visit to Haeyeon Guild by Yoojin, willing or unwilling, would be enough to get attention on him:

“But if I directly give orders for you to be brought in and allowed to live within Haeyeon Guild, my enemies will start to actively target you. Even with you just being here right now, I’m sure they’ll already have started keeping an eye on you.”

Think of it from Yoohyun's enemies' perspective. If Yoohyun cares about Yoojin, attacking Yoojin gives you leverage over Yoohyun. If Yoohyun doesn't care about Yoojin, then he won't care if you're attacking Yoojin, so you'll face no retaliation from him. Yoohyun's enemies have nothing to lose from this, while Yoohyun has everything to lose. So, in this situation, it'd be better to take the least risky path: just don't engage with Yoojin at all.

And, also, even if he'd decided to take that risk, there's a different one when it comes to actually figuring out a system to guard Yoojin. This point is more speculation, but I do think Yoohyun might have struggled with deciding when he'd done enough for Yoojin's protection. Because the reality is that Yoojin was never, ever going to be 100% safe from all dangers ever. Again, the vault method is the only way Yoohyun could achieve that. Yoohyun could've put together any amount of high-rank Hunters as Yoojin's exclusive security detail, and he'd still have to leave him alone with these potentially corruptible strangers for a full week at a time during every S-rank dungeon raid. I suspect there was a real risk of Yoohyun continuously going "I just need to get a bit stronger and a bit more established" indefinitely, without ever reaching a point where he was actually satisfied. (Which, if this was indeed a risk in canon, would be overridden in the post-regression timeline by Yoojin's keyword usage making Yoohyun's desire to live with him again and uncertainty about Yoojin's response win out over the urge to keep obsessing over safeguards.)

#6: What counts as a "real" threat

When it comes to Yoohyun's need to defend Yoojin against threats, there's also an important aspect you need to consider, which is: what threats? You see, the worlds of low-rank and high-rank Hunters are very different, to the point where Yoohyun seems to completely overlook some aspects of what Yoojin's used to dealing with, while Yoojin explicitly notes on multiple occasions that he didn't even realize Yoohyun faced certain dangers. As always, we come back to the poisoning attempts mentioned in chapter 6, the first time Yoojin realizes Yoohyun was suffering his own ordeals. This sort of sneaky threat gets reiterated in chapter 11, after Yoojin's trip to the Hunter Mall, when Yoohyun tells him he can't even take a simple drink from any public vendor because it might be poisoned (not something that'd work on Yoohyun himself, but it certainly would on those lower-ranked people around him who he cares about). No, not even in a government-sponsored location like the Association, because even these locations are filled with other guilds' spies and informants. Yoojin's internal response is essentially "what sort of underhanded bullshit is this", and out loud he questions Yoohyun about it:

“But would they do that sort of thing in none other than the Association? If they get caught, the backlash will be huge.” And if Awakened people couldn’t trust the Association, it’d end up hurting the guilds, too. “Of course they wouldn’t make trouble inside the Association. But it’s possible to have their target sent away in an ambulance or police car.” “…And then that ambulance or police car goes missing?” “You’re getting it.”

And Yoojin literally thinks, not a paragraph later, that this is maybe too much even for him:

Somehow, the further things went, the more I felt like I should stop being involved with this brat Yoohyun-ie and go off to live on my own.

Better the dangers you know than the ones you don't, but in Yoojin's words.

Everyone in the high-rank sphere is, well, high-rank. Strong and resilient even when they don't have defensive skills, to say nothing of when they do. They face threats, yes, Real Threats that pose danger to them and risk their safety and status, including threats from other people—Song Taewon mentions to Yoojin in chapter 83 that he's investigated Yoohyun for murder multiple times a year—but because they're so strong, those threats come in the form of dungeon monsters or social attacks, not actual physical harm. Especially not physical harm from other people; like, chapter 75 mentions there's laws against S-rank Hunters going into dungeons together for fear that they might hurt or kill each other, so unless they encounter each other in a dungeon break region where combat is expected (or pick fights with Chief Song, an S-rank duty-bound to fight other S-ranks), they're never really going to encounter personal threats from other Hunters.

Take all that through the lens of protecting Yoojin: he's just some guy, he's not involved in the social/political Hunter Hunger Games, so he's probably fine on that front, right? And otherwise, Yoohyun just needs to protect him from dungeons (keep Yoojin out of them when possible, prevent breaks in his area), and maybe just some general watching out for Yoojin getting himself into anything risky, since he's so weak as an F-rank. That's all the threats Yoohyun sees on a daily basis, so that's probably it, right?

Wrong. Low-rank Hunters have their own set of threats they face, and while a part of that is dungeons and monsters, a very large part of that is also just… being easy to kill, in a community of people very ready to kill. Low-rank Hunters murder each other a hell of a lot more than high-rank Hunters get to even hurt, let alone kill, each other. Think about how easily the knowledge of dungeons being good body disposal spots comes to Yoojin (chapter 19, when threatening Yerim's uncle). Think about the way Yoojin talks about being pressured into slave contracts and miner guilds, and how common it seems to be for low-rank Hunters to be maimed and disabled and left in the lurch (chapters 21 and 22, saving Yoo Myeongwoo from Hope Resources Guild). Think about chapter 49, where Yoohyun claims there's strong camaraderie among high-rank Hunters, and Yoojin responds with this:

Comradeship, huh. There was no such concept in low-rank Hunter teams. Of course, it wasn’t like there were no good people around. The problem was that they all died before long. There were fixed low-rank teams united through trust and friendship, but it was very rare that they lasted. With how strongly they banded together, if one of them died, they couldn’t endure the shock and would fall apart; and even if that didn’t happen, if they were doing well for themselves, they’d be attacked from the outside by the many Hunters who’d find them unpleasant. But a high-rank dungeon raiding team that suffered few such accidents could form a sense of comradeship and keep staying together.

Low-rank Hunters will get killed by monsters, or survive only to get killed by the loss of their teams, or find good teams only to get killed by other jealous low-ranks, or (in Yoojin's experience) survive multiple team-wide killings only to get ostracized and distrusted for being suspiciously good at surviving (almost like you're the one setting up your teams to fail! really makes you wonder, doesn't it?), or, or, or…

High-rank Hunters just… survive. That's it.

Of course Yoohyun wouldn't know to protect Yoojin from these threats. He's never faced them. To him, fighting other people is a fun, challenging pastime, where no one being allowed to kill each other is an unspoken rule that goes implicitly understood. He wouldn't realize how it was very much not fun for Yoojin; maybe he'd know it intellectually, but I don't think he'd understand, not without getting up close and personal to see Yoojin struggle with it, which he can't do himself. If he tries to send someone to spy on or just generally help out his brother, Yoojin's primed by his experiences to distrust the people around him, so spies won't get anything out of him, and any strong Hunter handpicked by Yoohyun to help his hyung might simply be unable to gain Yoojin's trust. (Picking out a whole team of strong Hunters? Even if Yoojin trusts them, they'd probably end up victimized by jealous Hunters. Rinse and repeat.) You must also take into account that Yoojin's been made enough of a target by society that he's hiding every weakness someone could potentially exploit. Hell, if he's hiding well enough, you might think he's doing just fine.

And in the time period where it would be blatantly obvious that Yoojin was not fine, that early period right when he Awakened and turned into society's scapegoat overnight? That was when Yoohyun and Haeyeon were also being targeted, and wouldn't have been able to spare the kind of attention and help Yoojin would've needed, not with all the scrutiny they were all being subjected to. Actually, when Yoojin's reminiscing about these times in chapter 59, he hypothesizes it might've been Yoohyun's rivals themselves who were behind the scapegoating:

At that time, it would’ve been hard for that guy to look out for me. Public opinion wasn’t good in many ways, and there were too many scrutinizing eyes for him to secretly look after me. Now that I thought about it, I wondered if there wasn’t some sort of operation targeting me. The response was too excessive to have simply been the work of a few trash journalists. It was a matter that could be packaged excitingly, I was an F-rank which made me easy to use, and at that time, it could drag down Haeyeon Guild in the public opinion. Whether it was the government, the Association, or rival guilds, they’d have been fools not to use me.

If it was Yoohyun's rivals behind it, then by fighting on the Haeyeon front, Yoohyun might actually have been keeping Yoojin safe, too. How do we know he didn't actually mitigate the suffering to some degree? We haven't heard from Yoohyun about his side of things during this time, so we don't have a definite answer one way or another.

Certainly, Seok Simyeong didn't help at all by making a public statement denouncing Yoojin, especially not when it was so bad Yoojin admits to almost being suicidal over it (chapter 19)! But, well, it was a busy time. We don't know whether Yoohyun was consulted on that one, or if it was something they rushed in order to get ahead of the situation. It might also be that Yoohyun was consulted and made the choice that they'd publicly denounce Yoojin but privately offer him support, only for Yoojin to reject it as he did before with the money Yoohyun sent. Yoojin's done this before, where he conveniently doesn't mention a detail about a scenario until it becomes immediately relevant!

I cannot emphasize enough that we don't have Yoohyun's perspective on this. We don't know what he was doing or not doing to help. But we know, from his love for Yoojin, from his desperate desire to keep him safe at all costs, that he must've been doing something. Was that something effective? Was it useful to Yoojin's immediate life? Who knows. But he was trying.

#7: Banning Yoojin from dungeons

…Keyword being trying. Because, uh. To be honest, how well do you think any direct attempts at "helping" went over? The very first moment that Yoojin regresses to is when Yoohyun got him out of a meeting with an Awakening broker. And Yoojin himself says that ended so badly that "after listening to Yoohyun-ie’s nagging, I’d become furious and stormed off, shouting that I could take care of myself and to quit bothering me" (chapter 5). So if Yoohyun tries to openly keep Yoojin out of danger, then Yoojin is going to have a screaming fit of anger at his life being controlled by someone who apparently isn't even interested in being in it.

And that's before Yoojin Awakened. Once he had an actual, legal, government-assigned license saying he could go into dungeons? Yoohyun had zero standing. Zero chance he was ever going to be able to stop him from going into dungeons, short of breaking down and crying and begging for him to not do it, which (to successfully convince Yoojin he wasn't just putting on a show or trying to guilt trip him) would also require Yoohyun to admit he still cared about Yoojin and reveal his 3- uh, 4- I mean, 5- 6(!!)-Year Master Plan To Keeping Hyung Safe Forever And Ever.

Yeah. Never gonna happen.

And even that one (1) attempt at keeping Yoojin away from dungeons and Hunters and everything related could've gone really badly, because as Yoohyun himself admits in their chapter 6 conversation, his enemies will "already have started keeping an eye on you [Yoojin]". Just from one single show of apparent concern for Yoojin's wellbeing! Can you imagine what would've happened if Yoohyun kept stopping Yoojin every time he tried to go into a dungeon? Setting Yoojin's own frustration and anger aside, can you picture the kind of attention that would've gotten Yoojin? No, this was one battle Yoohyun had to lose in order to win the overall war.

Anon, you mention providing "new options for Yoojin to stop going to dungeons". Okay, sure, we're starting with Yoojin being society's black sheep and probably rejected out of hand from most positions he applies to, and Yoohyun's only leverage in society being in dungeon- and Hunter-related fields. What options would he have provided for Yoojin? A dungeon- or Hunter-related job, probably at Haeyeon or one of its affiliates? That's precisely what we're trying to avoid, and also visible enough that Yoohyun might as well not have even fucking bothered with the 6-Year Master Plan etc. etc. Okay, so then something at one of Haeyeon's sponsors-? Except Haeyeon famously doesn't have backers, and any connections they have through business deals will be glaringly obvious to Yoohyun's rivals if leveraged. Oh, Han Yoojin, the man who no one wants to hire, got a job at a company whose products Han Yoohyun sponsored just a while ago! Absolutely no one is wondering how this could've happened. Also, funny how Han Yoohyun's helping Han Yoojin find work, it's almost like he cares about him… (And so the end begins.)

Remember, all of Yoohyun's efforts at separating himself from Yoojin require actually being separate from Yoojin and the choices he makes. Yoojin's life is—unfortunately enough for Yoohyun—his own to live… and his own to ruin.

#8: The transcendent threat

And all of that—every single one of these environmental factors that make it so Yoohyun has a billion and one concerns to consider before he can so much as talk to Yoojin—all of that comes before we take into account one more fact:

God Hates Caregivers Personally.

Or, in a non-joking manner, and in the fashion Yoohyun might have learned about it from Diarma, as is strongly suggested in the virtual reality dungeon arc during chapter 246:

There are beings out there, outside your world, stronger than anything you know, and this is acknowledging the fact that you are among the strongest existences humankind will ever produce. These beings rule your entire world, are the children of the very power that created the dungeons terrorizing your planet, are themselves so powerful that they can predict dungeons and manipulate the system in their favor, that they can manipulate the circumstances of individual humans as long as they're inside dungeons. In allying with any one of their number, you make an enemy out of half of the entire population of these transcendental existences. You have already made an enemy of them. And these people, these all-powerful creatures, who you've painted yourself a rival of? These same people have a known track record of killing the loved ones of people like you.

Your brother goes into dungeons every week as part of his job. He's already at immense risk. If you go near him, if you make it seem even slightly like you're interested in him personally, you make him an out-and-out target for these transcendents, and they'll smite him. He dies, and you die, and it's game over.

Option one: You can grow to their level, meet them with equal strength, certainly, but will you get the time to grow that far before they kill your brother? Is his natural lifespan even long enough that he'd survive the time it took for your growth? He dies. You die. Game over.

Option two: Don't pose a threat. It's too late for you to never get on their radar in the first place, but if you can keep from seeming any more dangerous, maybe they won't give him any attention. Secure a favor that will let you help him when he needs it, at most, but otherwise never use your transcendent connections to your own advantage.

Option two, taken to its conclusion: If you die before your brother does—if you die calling in that favor and saving his life—you never have to see him be killed.

(Option two, on the flip side: You will not expect it to be your own ally who set the stage for your loved one to be killed.)

So, basically, every single concern Yoohyun's had about protecting his brother that made him distance himself and not tell him anything so far? All of that is taken and cranked up to difficulty level Maximum. "If I show interest in hyung, one of my rivals or enemies might choose to hurt or kill him!" The transcendents WILL kill him with NO known incentive. Yoohyun might assume it's because he poses a threat to their side, but he can't be absolutely certain that's it. In fact, he doesn't know anything about this opposing transcendent faction, since he was blocked from contacting them by the very fact of having chosen a side in the first place, as Water Droplet explains when discussing the born S-ranks in chapter 106:

“We don’t know for sure either. The filial duty addicts contacted them first, so their information is obscured. We only know that there are five, and about the ones that are in contact with you.”

And while Yoohyun-as-Alpha knows the reasons behind the immoral people killing Caregivers—namely, that they want to remove distractions for S-ranks, so that they focus on combating dungeons and monsters—if Diarma had told Yoohyun about this, and if he'd thought to apply the bare minimum of intelligence to his delivery (a disclaimer that must be made, with this transcendent in particular), I really don't think he would've told him why. No, he would've wanted the immoral people to seem like a dangerous threat, so he would just have said that they might kill Yoohyun's family, without giving him their reasoning.

Which means Yoohyun knew nothing about the immoral people's motives, nothing about their goals, nothing about what they'd see as aggression. Which meant, hypothetically, that any and every action he took could trigger them to smoothly and efficiently eliminate the only person he loved in all the world. It would be so easy, too; Yoojin's entering their turf multiple times a month as part of his daily job, a fact which we've already established Yoohyun couldn't do anything about. The only thing he knew for sure is that they hadn't killed Yoojin so far.

Remember what I said before, about the known path being safer? Because you know the dangers you'll face on it? Yoohyun knows doing what he's doing right now is keeping Yoojin alive. He can't control a single other thing outside of that. And the danger posed by not doing what he's doing just got shifted to a level he is not prepared on any level to respond to. Before, he might've thought Yoojin was safe at least inside dungeons with his chosen teams; from his perspective, "dungeons with only guild members inside are actually safer than the outside world" (chapter 134), while the outside world was more of a risk because of all of Yoohyun's enemies. But now? There is danger all the time and in every location Yoojin goes, even those outside of this world, on an insane, unrivaled level. He is never, never safe, and any single unexpected action Yoohyun takes puts that at risk. If doing anything at all is dangerous, then it's better to do nothing.

So, yeah, that's the crux of it, isn't it. Yoohyun needs to protect Yoojin every day, every single time. Everything else in the whole world only needs to kill Yoojin once. In such a situation, how would Yoohyun ever dare to risk making either of them vulnerable?

…The end! I hope that this explanation, long as it is, has given you at least some additional insight into Why Yoohyun Did All That, and helped serve as a reminder of just how little we actually know about Yoohyun's perspective of the events pre-regression.

By the way, this entire post is pulling only from information we get up to chapter 272; there’s more information revealed up to chapter 350—actually, even just in the next few chapters after that, up to 275—that sheds more light on Yoohyun’s decision-making process in the pre-regression timeline. Maybe I’ll come back and post a part 2 to this analysis someday using the additional information we get as time goes on, but right now, this much will have to be enough.

In any case—thanks for reading this far. And of course, as promised, here's the poll!

[crguang]

AHHHH that was so good i miss my wife :/. the way i also cleaned my room (i'm moving out of my dorm), drew kafka and watched a show i think she'd like...my life is so unoriginal...omg my friend sent me that art hehe. for my aforementioned fic i saw another art of kafka from that acc. it's like her curled up like a cat with light slanting across her face? that may be a scene idk yet. i've been reading thru ur fics and there's something abt the writing style, just like, the word choice in general is very like well i don't know how to describe it but it evokes a lot of melancholy, there's a sense of finality? i don't know wtf i'm talking about right now i was just in a car for 8 hours so my apologies.

anyway uhh i need some of ur input. so basically at the beginning of my fic r has joined the stellaron hunters semi-recently, and like they are also a freak about human connection so kafka is like slightly intrigued i guess? but basically r is like "wait kafka is so hot and since nothing is ever going to happen between us it's totally fine to have feelings". and i guess it's kind of supposed to be the same way w kafka. like idk if we talked abt it but kafka's cameo in 3.0 where I assume she got closer to the TB because she knew they would get their memory erased/leave. so basically the premise is reciprocated feelings but it's unrequited because they're weirdos.

i don't really know how to write dialogue for kafka? like r barely talks they mostly just like daydream and they ruminate quite a bit throughout the fic and don't really say too much of what they're thinking, so i'm not sure 😭 i haven't really written fanfic before. dw tho i plan on posting it on ao3 whenever i finish (if i do lmao) and if i end up being too shy to post i might just send it to you anyway.

also i haven't gotten on hsr in ages. like i got on some during finals but i just don't have any motivation at all. like classes ended and i don't want to do anything. maybe it's the depression but like idk it's frustrating. i just want kafka back 😭 tbh i haven't had any motivation to play games in general for a while, like all these gachas are just taking up storage. i just think it's mentally exhausting to get into new stories and stuff, like ik i'll really enjoy them it's just...idk. but i'm so bad at all the games i play i fear. the powercreep in hsr is soo bad 😭😭😭 i've kind of given up on pulling or doing any endgame. like i'm not interested in wtf is happening in hsr rn.

umm anyway that was longer than expected but it's okay if ur offline bc atp kafka should just move to a different game. but yeah hope u are doing good! wish me luck bc i have to move back in with my parents for the summer.

-🌠

the way every time something comes out like hsr news or whatever, i form my opinion and youre in my inbox a little while later typing out exactly what im thinking… and now we were doing the same thing on the same day its so crazy hdjdkdjf tbh i wrote that in because it’s what i did and i was self inserting #hard in that drabble so… i feel like it kinda shows when im truly self inserting in my kafka works because the reader is a lot sassier 😭 but anyway, ive been seeing that person’s art every day since they started the 100 day kafka art challenge and its been an absolute blessing because i dont see much kafka fanart (i have 90% of hyv twt blocked </3). so i think i know what piece you’re talking about, i love all the different ways they represent her its so cute.

as for the writing part, i think that may be because 1) im depressed lol and 2) i often write kafka from the perspective of someone who’s chasing after her while she chases a destiny bigger than they are, so it’s pretty weighty and sad. i dont really notice how my writing comes across unless the melancholy is on purpose (like when i write angst) so your input is very interesting!

mmm, what im understanding is that its mutual pining between r and kaf but they just wont do anything about it? are you asking for ways to show that kaf is pining through her interactions with r or just that you’re not sure what they’d talk about? either way i think since youre dealing with guarded kafka here, if you wanna translate her pining it would be through action more than whatever she’s saying. you can make her stare/hold eye contact longer than she has to, initiate physical proximity bc she doesnt care about that, have her be flirty but in a casual, teasing way cause that’s just how she is. i believe that one drabble i wrote about her yearning could be a good guide if youre stuck? should be under the “sat babbles” tag since i haven’t updated my masterlist, but kafka likes to talk. even if r is reserved she would initiate conversations. you can use the context of an upcoming mission or something if you just need an excuse to have them talk. ive written something about an extraverted reader but who’s just as guarded as she is— games people play? kafka’s pining showed through physical intimacy and possessiveness there. it’s all about keeping it surface level but showing some cracks here and there. kafka would talk the way she always does, it’s her actions that weigh more i would say. i hope this helps a bit😭

i really understand the burn out from gachas because that’s what im going through 😭 i dont like the direction theyre taking with hsr and the constant powercreeping and heavily encouraging players to always pull for the latest character its just annoying. i think you should take some time not doing anything cause you deserve some time off after the semester fr. dont worry abt those games they’ll always be back if u wanna get back into them

hope youre doing okay and good luck with your parents!!

[pjplayground]

Okay, so, uh... For some reason my ask isn't showing up on any Tumblr feed, so. I'm just gonna make a post. I got the notif that it was answered, but I can't see the post. I dunno, I think Tumblr is shitting itself.

ANYWAY. Yes, @xskywalker21, I do have a gift for you! It's actually a Meet the Robinsons AU of mine. I'll refer to it as "Compass" for now, but you can change it if you want.

Essentially, this is an AU where Cornelius lived in a cozy cottage in the woods with his pet duck Achilles. He's a field journalist who loves nature and the quiet air of the forest. Venturing outside of the forest was a small town square situated on a pier overlooking the ocean. It was here where Cornelius met Franny.

Franny lived in her parent's bakery after a very ugly divorce with Wilbur's birth father. Wilbur was five years old when Neil first met him. Neil would always visit her family's bakery because he loved the chocolate almond bread... One could say he was a liiiiiiiiittle bit addicted. Anyway, Franny's family (her brothers, mother, and grandmother) knew Neil was a good man, and could sense she was becoming infatuated with him.

One thing led to another, and two years later they're married. They all live in the cottage together now, and Wilbur seems to love it! (Especially Achilles.) I left the story off with Franny announcing to Neil they were having a baby.

That's the basic story, but here's some other stuff I thought you should know: - Achilles got his name because of what happens when you tap the back of his heel. He belly flops. - The whole AU was inspired by Cottagecore aesthetics, and the idea of cozy cottage living. Specifically this one playlist I came across really inspired it, which I can find and link if you want. - Franny's ex was a bad person. I haven't fleshed that guy out, but just know that Wilbur calls Neil "daddy", and not him. - Neil does have his family, they just live out of state. They visit occasionally, and of course they were there for the wedding! They all thought he was too wrapped up in his plants to find love. - Speaking of, instead of having a special interest and knowledge in machinery, this AU Neil is knowledgeable of fauna and flora from across the globe! - Franny can play guitar, flute, and cello. - Neil started frequenting the bakery before Franny got divorced, probably about a year before. When she saw him, it was basically love at first sight. - Their dating life wasn't something I had super fleshed out, but one thing I did have down was Neil's proposal to Franny. He proposed to her overlooking his favorite lake. The water was so clean, the moon and stars glistened in its reflection. - Both Neil and Franny know how to sing. Franny because she's just that kind of person, but Neil knows because he took choir in high school. It was a filler class.

The rest is up to you! I'm giving this AU to you because... Well I dunno. I just thought you'd like it. There's a one shot for it on my AO3 (it's in the Songtober fic, it's the "Lullaby" chapter), but that's pretty much it. That was my attempt to spark interest in it again, but meh... It didn't take. So instead of letting it die, I'm gifting this AU to you!

[rosebloodcat]

Ramshackle Fits A Little Too Well

(Or, Crewel learns what can happen to a dorm when there is no one taking care of it for 50-some years)

AN: I started writing this one on a lark, but I really liked it so I figured, why not post it? There are a lot of little background things that I haven't gotten into in this story but I may get to them in a later chapter. But I'm down to explain if people ask, so go ahead if you want to know what's up.

I mostly wanted to get into the horrors of a house that's been abandoned for years at a time in this chapter, and I'm quite pleased with them so far.

Maybe I'll get to the rest of the cool things later. XD

AO3 Link!

Crewel wasn't a fan of the Ramshackle Dorm. As far as he was concerned, it was an eyesore on the esteemed Night Raven College's campus. He'd never understood why the Headmage hadn't had the place torn down and replaced with something more useful to the school after the dorm had been shut down.

Although, at the moment, he supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't done that.  Since it gave them a place for the magic-less puppy to stay after the school carriages accidentally snatched him.

(They needed to have that checked out. The carriages picking up people who weren't even students was a problem.)

He was uncouth and unrefined, but at least he seemed to be sensible.

The puppy had taken time to approach each teacher after class and warn them that some of his assignments may be turned in late throughout the year, as he had to do repairs to the dorm he was staying in along with the work he needed to meet the school's criteria. And the unspoken fact that he would be doing all that by hand on his own, as the barely tolerated familiar staying with him would be all-but-useless for such a task.

Crewel did have to give the puppy credit. He wasn't afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty.

But he had begun to wonder if, perhaps, such a task would be too much for a single student to manage alone.

The buckled floor he'd found when the student led him to the mostly cleaned sitting room certainly suggested it. (Sort of cleaned? It seemed cleaner than the great of the place at the moment. The whole place was still repulsive.) It was the first of many clues as to the house’s state.

Though he couldn't help raising a brow at the chairs lying on their sides near a very large garbage bag. And with the windows wide open as well, the curtains he knew had once been there were gone.

Upon closer inspection of the heaps, he could see rubber gloves and a rather sharp-looking knife lying there as well. The puppy caught the look and let out a huff.

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to sit on the plain wood chairs in here, Prof. Anythin’ with cloth on it is a giant mold patch now thanks to the leaky roof and the cracked windows. I’m carving as much of it off as I can to throw it out.” He rocked back on his heels, nodding to the garbage bag. Well, that explained that. “Might be able to salvage the wood parts, but the cushions are goners. Grim is outside with Ace studying because this shi- er, stuff was making him sick. I’ve been tying a rag that I got from the school store over my face to keep from feeling the same.”

Ah, mold. Yes, that made sense for how old the dorm was and how long it’s been since anyone was staying there. Of course, there would be-  Wait.

“Leaking roof?” he asked, a trickle of alarm in the back of his mind. Water leaks could do a  lot of damage, but when it froze and melted during the winters…

“Oh yeah, the roof’s got a lot of them. Found out during the storm a couple days ago. Had to dig through every closet I could find to get enough buckets for ‘em.” He let out a gusty sigh, scratching at his still-growing mustache. He glanced upward with a grimace. “I’m dreading when I finally get to clearin’ out the top floors of this place. Which is why I wanted to ask you about stuff for clearing out mold.”

He pointed to a door further down the hall, his jaw setting.

“Especially for the bathroom down there. I think one of the old students forgot some medicine in the cabinet when they left the dorm. I wouldn’t be surprised if it could get up and walk by now if it felt like it, so I need something strong to get rid of it. Even if I can’t use the bathrooms very much right now.”

“And what makes you say that?” Crewel asked. Surely the bathrooms weren’t that disgusting.

“Cause the pipes might blow if do.”

What.

“The pipes have probably frozen over multiple times over the years. So it’s probably messed them up a lot.” He continued, not even noticing the way his new teacher had frozen. “If you send pipes into full use after something like that, it can cause the weakened seals to burst, and you can’t just patch ‘em or else you might end up breakin’ them up in your hands. I’d love to hire a pro to take a look at ‘em and see how much can be safely patched and how much would be better off replaced but…”

He shrugged helplessly at Crewel. He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Because of his arrival, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. And he certainly had no money to do all the repairs and refurbishing that Ramshackle needed to be inhabitable for a student. Surely the headmage was allowing some form of budget to cover the boy’s efforts to restore the dorm? He wasn’t expecting the boy to do it all out of his own pocket by working at the school store, was he?

The boy certainly couldn’t ask his parents to help pay for it all…

“And how much of this is our esteemed headmage helping cover?” The puppy tilted his head in confusion. He felt his heart sinking. “The headmage has given you a budget for this work, hasn’t he?”

“No? He hasn’t really said anything about helping cover the repair costs for this place. Ace, uh, one of the Heartsyble guys, has been helping with food ever since he got booted from his dorm for eating a tart from the communal fridge without asking first. Most of it’s dry stock but… Yeah.” He looked a bit uncomfortable, glancing back toward the kitchen.

(By the Seven, he didn’t even want to think about the state of the kitchen if the rest of the building was anything to go by.)

Crewel was rapidly re-evaluating the knowledge he’d had about the dorm, the skills of his student, and the stupidity of the headmage for just dumping a student there without even considering the health and safety risks of them staying there.

He took in a breath, held it, and then slowly let it out.

“We will make a list. Of the essentials needed for this building to be comfortable, and safe to live in for however long you’re going to be here. I will call the needed people to get price evaluations and speak with the headmage about setting a repair budget for your work.” He looked down at the student in front of him, who stilled at the sharpened edge of his gaze. “If you are going to be doing the work restoring this building yourself, then you need the funds to do it right. Now, show me the rooms you’ve been looking at using and we can start building up the basics.”

This was going to be far more work than he had been ready for, never mind a lone, magicless student that had been abducted and left to (practically) fend for themselves. (The dorm barely counted as a safe place to stay in its current state.)

And Crewel fully planned to make Crowly share in the misery as well, until he put in the work to fix it.

(Crowly was not ready for the list of extreme hazards that their student was facing being thrown on his desk by the furious Crewel. But it took very little persuading to set a budget to rebuild the dorm. They could justify why the abandoned dorm needed this much work to the school board later. For now, they needed to ensure their student wasn’t poisoned by airborne mold spores or worse while they were stuck at the school.)

(Cab was just happy when Crewel told him that both a plumber and a handyman had been booked to come by in a few days to take a look at the bathrooms and Kitchen.)

[northeasternwind]

All Ye Wandering Hearts, 1/1

SO WHO WANTS SOME SAD BUT ALSO HOPEFUL VEIZEN AS CANON-COMPLIANT AS I CAN GET IT. Sadly this is about Eizen trying to handle his feelings for Velvet so Velvet isn’t actually in it lmao this is what happens when you are aro/ace and try to write romance that also complies with canon please forgive me

Title: All Ye Wandering Hearts Fandom: Tales of Berseria Rating: T Word Count: 2022 Main Characters: Eizen, Laphicet, Velvet (mentioned)

Summary: Eizen has an extremely ill-advised crush, and a purpose with which it is nearly incompatible.

Velvet was unremarkable.

There was no way to sugarcoat it. Humans obsessed with revenge were a dime a dozen in this world, and in his long centuries of travel Eizen had seen plenty of them. I’ll kill him no matter what. I’ll never forgive what he’s done. I don’t care who else suffers.

Velvet was unremarkable. There was nothing at all unusual about her.

...Except she stayed.

It was in her best interest, Eizen reasoned. He had a ship and a crew, and 1000 years of experience besides. His usefulness outweighed the consequences of his curse. Certainly it made things more difficult than they had to be, but she seemed to think his company worth the extra trouble. Well, it was; the Van Eltia boasted the hardiest pirates in the known world, and he was its leader in Aifread’s absence. She was strong enough to shrug off the worst of his curse, so he was a greater asset than a risk.

She didn’t much appreciate his vast knowledge of treasures and history, but she accepted his insight. He hadn’t heard any complaints yet, at least. She simply appreciated the sheer depth of his experience, most likely, even if she didn’t actually care for what he had to say.

Point being, their coexistence was purely business, and that was the only difference between her and every other vengeful human he’d known. If she happened to tolerate him slightly more than other such humans, it was merely because she had a goal and would use any means within her reach to achieve it.

There was no reason to appreciate her as a person. None.

...Except.

In the depths of Titania, Eizen flipped his coin. A malak was more than simply a human with magic powers. In most places Eizen had an awareness of the ground under his feet that was difficult to explain with words; an uncanny certainty that there were things growing in the soil beneath, or not growing, and a bone-deep understanding that he would never understand how big his world was. How much earth lay under and across the sea.

But if he closed his eyes and really focused at an earthpulse point, the power became more acute. Eizen withdrew from his thoughts and tested his reach; he could feel a tiny daemon girl standing next to an equally tiny malak, men loitering on the dock, normin in the entrance hall.

Velvet on the watchtower.

Generally it was difficult to tell her and Rokurou apart, but tonight Eizen knew for a fact that Rokurou was downstairs sleeping off the disappointment of not getting to kill the dragon of the Aldina Plains. (And there was another subject to brood on, later.) The powerful daemon atop the watchtower could only be Velvet Crowe, once a sister of three.

Once.

Eizen would die if something happened to Edna.

And, perhaps more importantly, they had a common goal which inevitably led to them spending time together, even if that time was generally spent fighting for their lives rather than doing any sort of bonding. And since she was the only other person in their motley band with any sense, it was she Eizen most often shared his plans and concerns with.

They say you can get attached to someone just by talking to them often enough, even if you have no other reason to like them.

Eizen withdrew his senses from the earthpulse to look down at his coin. Tails.

He groaned and massaged his brow. Eizen had a crush on a daemon.

Velvet had no personal interest in him and damn it, he shouldn’t have any in her, either. But what a woman! Who learned the art of the sword from Artorius Collbrande himself, who only ever intended to use it for hunting, who must have once been a common family girl who cared for her brother as tenderly as Eizen once cared for Edna. Velvet was no coin with two distinct sides; she spoke softly to Laphicet for the same reason she destroyed towns, taught Eizen about Aldina Alabastergrass for the same reason she devoured her enemies.

She was cruel and kind, and clever, and her fierce beauty wasn’t helping at all. Damnation.

Eizen flipped his coin over in his fingers. Could he truthfully say he was in love with Velvet? No matter how deep her pain, Eizen never hesitated to bar her way if it hampered his own agenda. Could he claim to love Velvet when he valued his feelings over hers, Aifread’s life over hers? Could he love someone whose suffering he would only ease because it fell in line with his own?

But there was no mistaking his feelings. The gratification when she confided in him; the admiration of her bladework; the urge to be near her, to know more, to hear her thoughts and opinions. And, at least in his case, an enormous frustration with the fact that a malak and a daemon couldn’t remain in direct contact for very long.

“Eizen?”

Eizen started and looked up: lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Laphicet’s approach until the young malak was directly above him. Wide green eyes peered down into the cell through the grate at the top.

“I’m sorry!” Phi called down. “Did I mess up your concentration?”

Eizen shook his head. “No, it was already broken. I’m guessing you came to try sensing the earthpulse points again?”

“Yeah.” Laphicet’s face disappeared from the grate, and he appeared shortly at the ladder. Eizen watched diligently as he descended; no one had fallen yet, but with a drop like that it was only a matter of time.

He reached the bottom and hurried over to where Eizen stood waiting, white robes fluttering behind him. “What did you come down here for?”

Eizen flipped his coin again, considering his answer. Laphicet’s own crush on Velvet was the catalyst for many of his decisions, and Eizen had no desire to complicate that for him. “I was thinking about things I can’t control again.”

“You mean like your curse-- oh!” Laphicet blinked, and returned the good-natured poke Eizen had given him through the earthpulse. “I guess you can sense things through the earthpulse, too.”

Eizen smiled. “Yeah. Not as strongly as you, of course, but I think being an earth malak helps. I can count all the people on the island and tell you where they are.”

Laphicet’s eyes lit up briefly before he closed them again, focusing. He tended to lack control same as any malak his age, but what generally took Eizen several minutes of unbroken concentration Laphicet could accomplish in a few seconds. He opened his eyes again.

“That’s pretty neat!” he said. “But… what does that have to do with… things you can’t control?”

Eizen restrained a sigh, disliking the thought of hiding something from Laphicet even if his feelings were his own business. “It’s true that being a malak grants me abilities others don’t have, like sensing through the earthpulse. But it also places restrictions on me that are much greater than those placed on humans; I can only make friends with those who can see me, can only swim with a floatation device, can only withstand malevolence with a vessel.”

“You don’t think that’s a fair deal?”

“Fair has nothing to do with it. It’s part of who I am, so I accept it, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling frustrated from time to time.”

Laphicet put a hand over his heart. “I think it’s nice being a malak. I can protect my friends, so I don’t really mind needing a vessel to get around.”

“Even if it means you can’t be as close to Velvet as you’d like?” Eizen asked. Laphicet winced, and he instantly regretted the remark.

“...Even so,” Phi said nonetheless. “It’s not that I can’t touch her at all or anything, after all. I just think it’s better to give her a hug sometimes than to avoid it because of the malevolence. You’ve carried her before, too!”

“Aye. But our lives depended on it, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Even if you don’t want to be close to Velvet or Rokurou, that’s just your choice,” Laphicet said simply, with the air of one absolutely certain in his reasoning. “And if I do, then that’s my choice. Right?”

Eizen sighed. Laphicet had absorbed his philosophy a little too well, it seemed. “That’s true. But you have to accept that even with a vessel, exposing yourself to that much malevolence means becoming a dragon is inevitable.”

Laphicet wilted. The concept of dragons and their origin was yet new to him, but better he learn now before he doomed himself unknowingly, Eizen thought.

...And yet, he didn’t much like discouraging Laphicet.

“Your wheel is yours to hold,” he repeated, flipping his coin again for emphasis. “The only difference between now and before is that now you know the risks. Knowing that you’re aware you’re also choosing to become a dragon is good enough for me.”

Laphicet closed his eyes again, considering his answer. He was so very young, and Velvet was his whole life; Eizen knew what his choice would be regardless of the risks.

“You can think about it,” he said, voice softening. “And there are other ways to help while you do, you know.”

Phi visibly brightened again. “Yeah! I’m going to try the earthpulse again. Can you stay here please, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure. But I don’t see how I’m going to be of much help.”

“I like having you around,” he insisted. “I think that can be helpful.”

Eizen chuckled, appreciating Phi’s simple honesty. “Alright, if you insist. Let me know if you need anything.”

Laphicet beamed, producing his compass from the depths of his bag and setting to work at once. Eizen withdrew from the earthpulse entirely; it wasn’t as though Phi needed the room, but Eizen needed to think and that tended to be difficult while bearing witness to his search.

Even if there was a future for Velvet after vengeance-- which Eizen highly, highly doubted, he thought with a pang-- she simply wasn’t worth what he would have to give up to even think about being with her. The malevolence, he mused, was almost a non-issue in comparison to everything else; his lifestyle already guaranteed he would become a dragon someday, but dedicating himself to Velvet as Laphicet had would require him to forfeit so much.

She existed for her revenge. Would he give up his pursuit of Aifread if she asked him to? Give up his philosophy? If he were forced to choose, would he choose her?

No. Of course not.

Eizen loved Velvet, he decided. He simply loved Aifread more. There was no shame in knowing what was most important to him, in deciding that some loves by their nature must come before others. Velvet wasn’t worth it.

His gaze fell upon Laphicet, holding his compass and focused entirely on the earthpulse. Then again, he wouldn’t always be forced to choose. He loved Laphicet, too, felt the same strange joy in guiding him through his feelings that he’d once known with Edna, and his search for Aifread hadn’t yet interfered with that. Laphicet was no obstacle at all; he was worth the effort of bonding with him, even if he had at first been a means to an end.

And, after all, Laphicet’s greatest desire was to help Velvet, wasn’t it? Eizen could assist her in his own way, beyond the unspoken terms of their coexistence, without having to infringe upon his deepest beliefs.

It was something, even if it wasn’t much. Velvet simply wasn’t important enough to him to be worth his entire life, but that was no different from the multitudes of other people he loved less than Edna or Aifread.

The hatched opened above their heads, and Eizen knew without having to look who had come to visit.

He sighed, resolving himself not to feel guilty for knowing he couldn’t have everything.

But that didn’t stop the quiet voice in his head that whispered, maybe someday.

[hchollym]

Percy and Marcus get changed in a rush and swap clothes, a lot of questions are asked when Percy shows up wearing Marcus’s quidditch sweater and Marcus shows up wearing Percy’s weasley sweater

Thank you so much for the prompt! 😊

I love it, but I'm not sure that I did it justice, so if anyone else wants to write another version of it, then I'd love to read it! 😍

Warnings: Mild Language & Some Sexual References/Discussion. I'll cross-post this to AO3 later.

Better Late Than Never

Percy Weasley has never been late to class in his life, and he certainly isn’t going to let it happen now that he’s the Head Boy.

He blames Marcus – his bloody gorgeous, distracting boyfriend makes him lose all sense of time and logic (thank Merlin the twins don't know about him; they'd never let Percy live it down), which is why Percy is frantically trying to get ready, throwing on a shirt and collecting his materials to dart out the door.

For once, Marcus is just as rushed as him since he has quidditch practice (none of the Slytherin Quidditch Team is taking NEWT-level Transfiguration at this hour like Percy). Normally, Marcus just takes his sweet time, uncaring if he's tardy to anything (sometimes even doing it on purpose), and a small part of Percy is feeling rather proud that he is able to make his boyfriend lose track of time when it matters too.  

That thought doesn't last long as he heads to the door, pulled back briefly by Marcus for a quick goodbye kiss, before walking briskly to class – running in the halls is against the rules, after all. He just barely makes it in time, and Professor McGonagall gives him a strange look but doesn't say anything.

He spends the rest of class focusing diligently on the work, ignoring the way his classmates are glancing at him and whispering – they’re probably just jealous by how high his grades are in the course, but perhaps they’d be able to achieve the same marks if they devoted a little more time to studying and a little less time to gossiping.

It isn’t until he gets to the Great Hall for lunch that he finally realizes something is amiss. Everyone sitting around him keeps looking at him oddly, and he frowns. Do I have ink on my face again? He rubs it to check, but his hand comes back clean.

"What in the bloody hell-"

"-are you wearing?" Fred and George ask in turn when they show up.

Percy glances down, freezing when he realizes he's wearing a Slytherin Quidditch Team sweater. His eyes widen in panic, and he can’t help but glance over to the Slytherin table just in time to see Marcus sit down, wearing a maroon sweater with a gold 'P' on the chest.

Percy's fairly certain he stops breathing - though in the back of his mind, he can't help but notice how good Marcus looks in his sweater; it stretches over his chest, tight around his muscles, making them look bloody delicious, and he would be drooling if he weren't busy panicking.

How had he not noticed that they were wearing the wrong sweaters? Marcus' sweater was so much bigger and baggier (and comfortable and good-smelling and –), and how had he been so oblivious?! Everyone follows his gaze, and he knows they put it together a second later when there are a few gasps.

"Flint!" Fred and George scream at once.

Marcus looks at him then, smirking smugly, and oh, that little shit is enjoying this. He has no problem with their relationship being public knowledge (in fact, he'd been trying to get Percy to admit it, because he said he wanted to "make sure everyone knows you're mine").

He can feel his face heat up like it's on fire as he looks down at his plate. Fred and George are losing it next to him, ranting and raving about the shock and treason, and Oliver is bloody laughing at him – the traitor – but thankfully that does help, because then the twins transfer their ire to their Quidditch Captain for clearly knowing about this and not telling them. As Oliver holds his hands up in surrender to two furious Weasleys, Percy just hopes that this revelation blows over soon (doubtful).

Over the next few days, he's actually shocked by how few people bother them about it. People whisper all the time, and the Slytherins tease Marcus (but nothing too harsh because they probably know he would murder them without hesitation), and Oliver makes sure most of the Gryffindors leave him alone (and Percy is really grateful for that because he knows that Oliver is not Marcus' biggest fan and has never been happy about their relationship, but he’s doing this for Percy anyway).

The only ones who give him hell are the twins (even Oliver's not brave enough to intervene with them), and they alternate between berating him for his awful taste in men (“Why can’t you date Diggory or Rogers instead!?”) and teasing him (“You are the cliché of the good girl liking the bad boy, Perce").

It could be worse though. Nobody told his parents – he's assuming, because they haven’t written him – but Bill writes him a letter stating how worried he is for Percy because he doesn't want some Slytherin manipulating him, and he expresses doubt that Percy ever learned about gay sex during “The Talk”, so he hopes Percy knows that he is supposed to use condoms for anal sex too. Percy wants to burn the letter and throttle him, but then Bill finishes the note by saying that if Marcus ever hurts Percy, then he'll make sure he gets permanently lost in a pyramid, and well, that’s actually rather sweet.

Charlie sends him a nice, supportive letter saying congratulations on getting a boyfriend and wanting to know all about their relationship, and Percy decides that Charlie is now his favorite brother.

That only lasts approximately 2 minutes though, because then Marcus gets a howler, and Charlie's voice rings out across the Great Hall, going off on Marcus for taking advantage of Percy who is "innocent" and “pure” and how Marcus better keep his slimy paws off Charlie's baby brother. Percy is mortified as everyone starts laughing, and now Charlie has officially been moved down to Percy’s least favorite sibling.

But Marcus just grins and winks at him, and he’s wearing Percy’s sweater again, and Percy’s stomach flips. He thinks he may have developed a thing for Marcus wearing his clothes, because they look damn good on him, and he likes that everyone knows that Marcus is his (and okay, now he gets what Marcus meant about the public claim).

So, he decides to wear Marcus' sweater again the next day, and he’s rewarded by Marcus’ pupils dilating in raw desire. As Percy stands up to leave the Great Hall, Marcus jumps up and follows him, and Percy decides that he won’t mind being late to class, just this once.

[lordarsonizzzzt]

A SAFE TRIP FROM THE DEATH:)

this is the,,, little thing i wrote on my class, i'll later post it to ao3 gkjsrjg

kathy is from mom anon, malmo is from brainworms anon.

enjoy :)

Many would think that life outside the foundation is calm, pretty and doesn't have awful monsters that will kill you in very painful ways, and you know what? They are right.

Dr. Kathy was running along other doctors, trying to get out or at least get inside of a safe place, a breach was occurring on the site and some MTFs were escorting them for extra safety. However Kathy was worried, her son was nowhere to be seen and that made her feel anxious., she stopped running when her partner, Malmo, put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, making Kathy realize what was ahead.

A mass with tons of arms and legs, eyes on every place and a few mouths was being shot by the MTFs, and then her eyes shifted and she saw her son, who dragged himself out of danger because he was too injured to keep helping.

She ran to him and started treating his wound in a precarious way, using her water bottle that was on her coat to clean it and a piece of cloth she had to cut from his outfit to prevent blood loss, Malmo got closer to them, trying to do something to help their lover with the task at hand since she was so nervous. Kathy's nerves were only getting worse when hearing the boy's cries.

"Just,,, just- take a deep breath or something! Maybe that would help!" She said after finally tying the cloth around his chest, covering the wound.

"Take a DEEP BREATH? It feels like my insides are being RIPPED OUT" His eyes were half closed and the pain only got worse after yelling, his hand moved up to take Kathy's hand, trying to calm himself. Tears were falling from both sides, from totally different reasons.

And just like that, his energy drained completely, Kathy had to held back a sob and Malmo had to carry her to follow the other doctors who started running again after having that anomaly out of the way. The MTF that was guiding them made them go inside a room that not even a second later went into lockdown, Kathy fell into Malmo's arms and started crying, everyone else was confused but tried to comfort her.

It took a few hours for the breach to stop, all the doctors started leaving until it was just the couple., Kathy took a shaky breath and tried to compose herself, to then start walking out being followed by the worm-creature-person-thingy.

"Uhm, Katherin- are you...?

"No"

"Oh, uh, okay" Malmo didn't know what to do to help, so they just stayed by her side, some worms on her shoulders trying to cheer her up doing silly dances, but it didn't work.

She had to stop on her tracks looking infront of her, a weird black hole was forming there, in the middle of the hall. At first it was small, but then it started growing until it got big enough for an arm to slide out of it, then another., Kathy and Malmo started backing off.

The hands grabbed the edges of the hole and started pulling back, Randal's head popped out, looking agitated. "Help-" He was pulled back in, his hands staying where they were having a death grip on it.

Kathy hurried over and grabbed one of his hands, Malmo followed up when he got out of his shock and both started pulling him in, until he was lying on the floor, his hair messy and some scratches were present on his arms and legs.

He stood up and looked at both of them, breaking the tense silence.

"Surprise! I'm back from the dead! Isn't that exciting?"

The couple looked at him with wide eyes, he started feeling a little like an asshole for not letting them know that he can't, in fact, die again, at least not forever.

Kathy's laugh made him snap form his worries, his whole body going stiff when he felt her arms around him, she was hugging him., his arms stayed by his sides and his eyes were wide because of the surprise, but his his tail was swaying from side to side.

"I'm so happy you are okay"

---

I feel this is so shitty but I wrote this on math so

[satanschild01]

No All Might? That’s Alright Prt3

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction                                                          

A/N: In all honesty this took me way too long just to finish writing this chapter, but I pushed through so I guess it’s fine. I’ve created a AO3 account recently and I’ve posted all of my previous fanfictions there so if you want to check me out, you can find me as SatansChild

Hope you all stay safe and wear a mask if you can't physically distance.Hope to update soon!

Catch you on the flip side ~ Em

Photo used in this fic was referenced from original picture from anime, I did draw this photo jtlyk

Tags:

@random-fandom-girl-24

Tags for some wonderful feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines​ @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger warning: Talk about death

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3

After making sure all of the blood was no longer on his uniform, Closing his eyes, Izuku steeled himself to walk into the All Might shrine that was his room. Sure, he still wanted to be a hero, and he admired All Might’s strength, but he couldn’t stand to be surrounded by posters and figurines of a man who couldn’t offer any sort of encouragement to a child who clearly needed it. Izuku pulled some cardboard boxes out from his closet and started filling them with everything All Might. Oboro didn’t make a sound during the time he cleaned out his room, which he was grateful for. Even though he could just feel Oboro wanting to ask questions. 

“So what are you going to do about all this stuff?” Oboro asked as Izuku changed his All Might sheets with regular black ones “You seem like such a big fan...it just seems like a waste just to keep it all in boxes.”

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.”I’m not much of a fan anymore.” he lied to mostly himself rather than to Oboro, “I guess I’ll just donate the stuff later.” Once his walls were finally bare, Izuku stuffed the now full boxes to the back of his closet and flopped onto his bed. The room stayed silent for a moment until Izuku broke the ice, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life…but can you tell me about yourself?” he asked

“Well for the fact that I witnessed and helped you with some pretty deep stuff, it sorta would be rude if I didn’t tell you something about my previous life,” Oboro said cheekily

“H-how long have you been...you know…” Izuku paused not really wanting to complete the question.

“...dead?” Izuku nodded “I was in my second year of high school when I died and I would be 29 by now so...close to 12 years I think?”  Izuku sat there on his bed frozen

‘12 years is a long time to be a ghost or spirit to not have passed on, that is if people actually pass onto another place once they die’ Izuku thought to himself

“I was patrolling around Tasomiya Ward with one of my best friends when there was a villain attack...I was working on saving some kids when debris fell on top of me...when I woke up I was like how I am now, I couldn’t find my body anywhere so I just...travelled around…” Oboro seemed to quiet down at mentioning that he never found his body to move onto another life, so Izuku thought of ways to change the current mood of the room.

“So you were a hero in training or something?” he asked, face full of wonder, Oboro hummed in affirmation “What school did you go to?”

“I went to U.A”

“Wait really?!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly, “that's so cool!”

They continued talking and asking questions back and forth, before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes past before Izuku took a deep breath

“I...I’m sorry,” Izuku said quietly, slowly curling into himself

"Why would you be sorry kid?" Oboro’s voice was full of confusion. But Izuku only curled in on himself further.

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be stuck here." As if anyone wanted to be bound to some stupid Deku...like him. And here he thought it was a whole coincidence that Oboro was with him. But instead, he just took whatever type of freedom he had to begin with.

"Hey, no! Stop that. Izuku that's not true! I'm here because I want to be!" The warmth spread all over him and he couldn't help but lean into it. “I said I'd make a hero out of you and I still plan on it."

Izuku looked up only to see the ceiling of his room, lifting his arm up to the sky and let it just float there (like what every kid does while laying on there bed contemplating on what to do next). "I wish I could see you again."

Oboro hummed. Seeming to think something through. "I don’t think there’s much out there since I was only a second-year when I died, but there could be some photos of me with friends or an article"

Izuku seemed to take that as a challenge as he went to his computer. "What did you choose to be your hero name?"

"Loud Cloud."

After scouring the web for a couple of minutes nothing showed up except for an old article from the Nikkei Shimbun newspaper, reporting the death of hero-in-training Loud Cloud. Izuku quickly exited that site choosing to search for something different. “What’s your full name Oboro?”

“Oh that’s right I didn’t tell you my full name, it is Oboro Shirakumo” Oboro replied

“Oboroshirikumo...oboroshirikumooo….here!” Izuku exclaimed pointing at the monitor’s screen. “This photo was tagged saying ‘Curry eating competition at U.A’s School Festival. Winner Hizashi Yamada from class 2-A!’ it also says the names of the people in the photo are; Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Oboro Shirakumo.” 

“Oh, I remember that!” Oboro cried out laughing “The curry was soo spicy I was freaking out because I couldn’t find anything to soothe my burning throat!”

“So that’s you in the back then?” Izuku asked pointing towards a teenager who seems to be freaking out.

Oboro chuckles “Yep, the other two were my best friends!”

“Yamada looks sorta familiar what’s his hero name?” Izukku asked, curious on why the 16-year-old looked so familiar to him

“Unless he changed it before becoming a pro, which he probably would not, his hero name is Present Mic.” 

Izuku sputtered “W-wait you were close friends with THE Present Mic?!” Oboro hummed in agreement while Izuku had his miny freak out “

“Oh my god that is socool!Ilistentohisradioshoweveryday,andhe’ssuchanamazinghero,likeevenifheisdeafduetohisquirkhedoesn’tletitbotherhiman-” He stopped hearing the sound of laughter coming around his room and his lamp flickering

"Aw jeez, that’s amazing Hizashi got to get that radio show he wanted." There was a quick blast of warmth flooding around his back and chest resembling a hug. "Well anyway, you should probably head to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and a long way to go before you can have a chance at being accepted into UA!"

"What are you going to do while I sleep?" Izuku asked, eyes slowly drooping.

"I'm going to see how far I can go without being next to you, and have a look around and exploring a bit. No need to worry. I'll make sure to be careful and be here in the morning." He seemed to pick up on his anxieties. Izuku felt warmth as Oboro slowly pet his hair back. "Goodnight, Izuku." 

The next morning Izuku woke up to warmth pulsing on his right cheek. "Hey kid it’s time to get up! You have training to do! Up and at ‘em!" Oboro’s voice was overly joyful and Izuku felt very unwilling to get out of bed.

"Mm...just a bit longeeeer." He groaned turning himself over facing away from where he guesses Oboro is standing (floating?).

"Fair warning Izuku my jokes are terrible, everyone at school would always runaway once I started and I haven’t been able to talk to actual people in so long! If spaghetti were to have it’s own action movie, what would it be called?.... Mission im-pasta-ble. What did the pot eat on it’s birthday?....pancakes. What do you call a camel in a drought?....A dry hu- "

Finally, Izuku jerked up, covering his ears. “Okay. Okay, I’m up! No need to finish that.” His face started to burn a light pink across his face, (knowing what the end of the joke was) as he started to kick the blankets off only to turn towards the window and see barely any light outside. "Wha- Oboro!! The sun isn’t even out yet!"

He turned glaring into thin air hoping to make contact with him.

"Yes, it is, Izu. It's just reeeally early in the morning. There is plenty of time for you to get ready and eat before we go out for a morning run!" He was being weirdly energetic about the whole ordeal, but Izuku knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Heading to the bathroom, Izuku ran a brush through his wild curly hair and brushed his teeth. Going back to his room, Obroro pipped up. "It's a bit cool outside so I suggest you wear some long sleeves."

The entire way to his closet Izuku muttered incoherent things. In the end, he opted to wear a plain black shorts and a long-sleeved shirt with written kanji saying 'tank-top' with his old dusty sneakers because his red sneakers were still on top of the roof.

Before heading out Izuku ate some toast and an orange. If he got hungry later on their run he could always eat more when they got back. As Izulu started to leave the apartment Izuku tripped over an unmarked box that was just left in front of the door.

"Ooo I wonder what it is!” Oboro seemed quite enthusiastic as Izuku went to open the box revealing his faded red shoes and yellow backpack.

"Wai-how-who found my stuff?" Izuku asked immediately putting the bag by the door and quickly changing between uncomfortable and comfortable shoes.

"I don’t know, when I got back from wandering around the package was just...there."

"Maybe someone found it and found out where I live from my contact info and address was written inside…?” Izuku wondered out loud.

“I guess so,” Oboro said looking to the bright sight of things.

‘But what if it was...All Might. Yeah, I’m glad that I don’t have to go back up there to collect my things but...I don’t want to have to depend on All Might to help me with my own problems.’

“Hey don’t think like that Izu! I know you’re not a huge fan of the guy, but you don’t have to beat yourself down like that. I know you’re better than that” Oboro spoke sternly trying to make a point, but that soon backfired as warmth spread through his body.

“Hold up- could you always hear my thoughts?” Izuku questioned as he started to jog away from the apartment.

“So far I can heat some things. Like your thoughts that way heavily on you emotionally. But it could possibly work to talk to me through your mind. So you don’t look like a freak talking to themselves.” Oboro quickly informs Izuku as to not worry him.

Sighed Izuku. That was true. Though he kept thinking about it as he jogged. As they passed Dagobah Municipal Beach, the sun had started to rise. Taking in a deep breath was the wrong reason as Izuku cringed from the awful smell of garbage. Despite the smell, Izuku took a break, taking a seat at the entrance.

"Oh gross. What is this place?" Oboro asked with a clear sound of disgust in his voice.

"Well," Izuku started."This is Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It has accumulated trash coming from the sea for years, turning it from a beautiful beach spot into a trash heap for everyone's unwanted or broken belongings." It was really a shame. As a kid, Izuku recalled going to the beach. Lie under a beach umbrella, making sandcastles. But by the time he was tall enough into the water, it was already flooded with trash by then.

"That's terrible." Oboro seemed deeply upset about this actually. It made Izuku want to do something about it. But before Izuku could voice his thoughts Oboro spoke up.

“Hey Izu, could we make a quick visit to a convenience store?”

“Sure...what exactly do you want me to get?” Izuku asked, despite having an idea what Oboro was thinking.

“Well...you’re going to need to get some garbage bags and some gloves.”

Izuku then dashed towards the nearest convenience store with determination in his eyes. A frail-looking lady turned the key to open the doors as he walked by. Causing her to recoil in slight shock, Izuku realized that with his rapid approach he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd just come to purchase some garbage bags and some gloves.

The older woman seemed to soften something about his face as she smiled and opened his door. "Sure thing, they’re both in the last aisle on your right."

Before she went inside, Izuku thanked her and smiled back. He quickly found what he was looking for and brought a box of trash bags and a pair of workers gloves onto the counter.

"What's the hurry, son? Why do you need trash bags this early in the morning? You aren't trying to cause trouble are you?" the old woman pointed to Izuku with an accusing finger, and he shook his head quickly.

"Oh no, ma'am! I thought that I could just try and clean the beach up! I passed it while I was on my morning run!" Izuku assured, voicing Oboro’s plan

At this, the elder woman gently smiles while scanning the items. “Wow, is that right?” she said astonished, “ You know how long that place has been a mess? What makes you believe you can do it all by yourself?"

Her words weren't really painful, she was just being realistic. He knew she was right. He certainly had no obligation to clean up the beach. He could have just ignored it and easily went about his day. But he knew if he wanted to be a hero then he would need to start off the roots of how heroes came to be. How they used to work. Heroes in the beginning didn’t do what they did for fame. No. They didn’t care for the recognition they would get. They did it because they just wanted to help.

“That’s the thing, ma’am. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s also a great way to work out, instead of having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership!” Izuku brightly smiles towards the lady as he handed her the money to buy his items.

“Well, I wish you luck, kid. I’m guessing that you’ll need a place to put the trash you collect.” She stated, Izuku smiling sheepishly at her rubbing the back of his head she continued, “There are two dumpsters in the alley behind the store, they get taken every Monday.”

"Thank you, ma'am!" Izuku said genuinely as he headed for the door. He didn't think too much about how he would dispose of the garbage, so it was good to have one offered.

Oboro began to laugh as Izuku jogged back towards the beach. "Cheaper than having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership! Man, how true that is nowadays!”

The first garbage bags were packed very quickly. broken bottles, cans of beer, old and rotting newspaper, all of it was poured into the trash bag. Plastic, paper, glass, etc. Izuku could take them to a recycling center! He was already pumped about this new project when Oboro spoke up.

“Hey, Izu, before you toss that into the bag” placing his hand on Izuku’s making him feel warmth blossom closest to the soda, can packaging he was holding in that hand. “make sure you cut each circle so if they end up in wildlife again then animals won’t get their heads stuck inside.”

Izuku's eyes lit up as he started to tear apart each loop before placing it in one of the bags used for recycling. Soon Izuku had used up a quarter of the box of trash bags gone and only had 6x5 feet rectangle cleared of the beach.

[imacrowcawcaw]

These Dreams (Sanny) 1/3

*Just realized that this is super long and the formatting is a mess so I'm breaking it into three and cleaning it up*

Title: These Dreams

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, Tumblr - imacrowcawcaw

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Danny Wagner/Sam Kiszka, Josh Kiszka/Jake Kiszka at the end

Warnings/Tags: first time, first kiss, smut, frontage, grinding, fluff, attempted humor, discussions of underage attraction

Summary: *No actual underage sex graphically depicted, but it's talked about*

*twincest at the very end*

"'You're telling me that we've known each other, been near inseparable, since seventh grade, and you've never once thought about it? At all? You've had to have thought about giving guys a try at least once, everyone questions their sexuality." Sammy gave him a shit eating grin. He scooted even closer to Danny, so that their knees touched and their noses weren't more than half a foot apart. Danny stopped laughing.'

Author's Notes: Sammy seems to be the instigator in most things, and Danny always seems to be secretly in love (in my stories), but I like it like that lol.

God I finished this at midnight lol

For Helena and everyone else who needs gvf content down deep in their soul like I do

Sorry, it's kinda dialogue heavy

Singing along to Fleetwood Mac gave me the title

*I am marking this as underage because there is discussion of attractions and fantasies while they were underage, masturbation, losing virginity while under 18. But there is no graphic underage sex actually written, both boys are at like 20 or nearly 20 (today era) where I place this. (Also will not be posted on Rockfic because I've made that mistake once before and I respect their rules and the reasons behind them)

-----------------------

"What if we fucked?"

Danny let his head roll to the side on his pillow so he could eye Sam.

"What?"

"I dunno, it was just a random idea. Like, don't you think it would be kinda fun?"

Danny stared at him, confusion and amusement mingling on his face. This wasn't the weirdest thing Sam had said in, hell, the last half an hour? But, still, the hypothetic had Danny's attention simply because the idea was something he never really thought about - or, at least, never thought would ever happen. A boy had wet dreams and fantasies, they weren't always things he would actually act on.

"I've never thought about it."

Just not gonna mention those dreams. Or the one time he jacked off while sharing a bed with Sam, nose breathing in the scent of his hair and eyes roaming his best friend's sleeping backside. That never happened, okay?

"Really, like never?"

Sam actually looked surprised. He had?

"You're telling me that we've known each other, been near inseparable, since seventh grade, and you've never once thought about it? At all? You've had to have thought about giving guys a try at least once, everyone questions their sexuality."

"Well- I mean..."

To come clean or to not come clean, that was the question in Danny's mind. Sammy seemed totally cool with the idea, though, so it probably wouldn't do him any harm to admit it. Unless this was a prank? Nah, Sam loved jokes but this wasn't his style. He would never pick on someone for something like this, he much preferred messing with Danny in other ways.

"Fine, yeah, I've thought about it. Had a really intense dream in like, eighth, that freaked me out for a while. Didn't know how to deal with it then, ya know?"

"See, I knew it! Everyone thinks about it! What was your dream about?"

Sam bounced on the bed like an excited puppy - which, he was. A cute, fluffy, yapping ball of energy with too big feet who got super excited whenever he met new people, that was Sammy. How could Danny not love him?

"Do you really wanna hear about this?"

He had to know, just to make double sure, that Sam wasn't pulling his leg.

"Yes, I do! It's interesting to think about. And - if you tell me about your's, I'll tell you about mine?"

"Wait, your dream? What? When? How much have you thought about this? Like, being with a guy, or with me? How come you've never said anything?!"

Why was this the first time he'd heard about this? Sam was usually very vocal about everything he was thinking, at least when in private with his brothers and Danny.

Though, he guessed he knew why: it was the same reason he'd never really mentioned his own dreams and ponderings to Sam.

"Well, how come *you've* never said anything?" Sam countered. "And I'll tell you what I've thought about, but later; I wanna hear hear about this dream that freaked you out so bad. What could it have even been?"

"Mr. Oakenstein."

"WHAT?!"

Danny was cracking up at Sam's face, he looked like he'd just been told that Gibson was going out of business or something.

"Please tell me you're joking!" Sam begged. Poor boy, Danny should put him out of his misery.

"Of course I'm joking, doofus! God - Mr. Oakenstein? He was at least seventy five when we took bio! There's no way that - if I liked guys - I'd be into him. He's so wrinkly and hunched and- and *jowly*."

They both shuddered. Mr. Oakenstein's name brought back unpleasant memories of weekly chapter tests (how was it even possible to go through a book that fast?) and frog electrocution, not to mention the mental image of his sagging, jiggly face.

"Would he have even been able to get it up? Like, how long does Viagra take to kick in? You'd just have to lay there waiting and looking at him - which, ugh. That would be a nightmare, not a dream."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, still giggling a little bit, "I didn't dream about him, but it definitely would have freaked me out more if I had. Hey, you still think Miss Marcie is hot?"

Danny was procrastinating, they both knew it, but this was always a fun conversation to have.

"Always, dude. I still remember with, like, perfect clarity the time she had me come in during lunch to go over my test. I looked up and she was *right there* leaning over me reading what I was doing, and I could kind of see up her shirt... man, I was so distracted the rest of the day."

Sam sounded dreamy, lost in his memories of a hot tenth grade teacher.

"I remember that day! You were so distracted after school on the way home, you nearly drove us into a lake. And at band practice you kept messing up, Joshie nearly strangled you with his mic cord."

"Yeah! Man, I was so hard, I couldn't fucking concentrate on anything else except for trying not to cum right then and there. As soon as we called it quits for the day I was in the bathroom; and of course Jake knew what was up and wouldn't stop ribbing me about it the rest of the night."

"Damn, that bad? I mean, she was hot but she wasn't, like, *amazing*, was she?"

"You might not think so, but Miss Marcie is always gonna have a place in my heart. And the spank bank," Sam sighed. They both snickered.

"Well, what about you, hmm?" He asked. "If you didn't like Mr. Goldenstein, then who? Everyone gets hot for teacher."

Sam hummed the lyrics to the classic for a minute, Danny filling in the guitar parts. Neither of them listened to Van Halen that much, but how could you not know that song?

After a little drum solo on his thigh while Sam progressed into increasingly southern banjo sounding guitar noises, Danny stopped and answered.

"I agree, Ms. Marcelina was really hot, but she had NOTHING on Mrs. Bell. Do you remember that red dress she uses to wear?"

"Of course I do! The economy of the United States has never been so interesting!"

Danny snorted. "Dude, you never gave a shit about econ, you just liked to stare at her. Which, okay, I did too. She made that class bareable."

"I'd say she made it a bit more than bareable. And yeah, that red dress was something else,"

Sam rolled onto his side.

"Hey, what if Mr. Goldstein wore a red cocktail dress. Would you go for him then?"

Sam laughed when Danny shoved at his shoulder, shaking with amusement and disgust at the thought.

"You know, I've never entertained that thought, but I am SO glad you brought it to my attention. I'll never be able to *stop thinking about it* now, Samuel."

Sammy gave him a shit eating grin. He scooted even closer to Danny, so that their knees touched and their noses weren't more than half a foot apart. Danny stopped laughing.

Part 2