#mimi being best girl as always even only appearing at the end

[otakebi-cam-wao]

THE LAST IDOL X IDOL STORY CHAPTER OMG

it's not even translated, i made my best to understand with the help of the furigana

but also a friend resumed it up for me and OMG SOOOOOOOO GOOD

bajsjjdhshdushsjdhjd I'm a mess rn

[violettelueur]

ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + RYŌMEN SUKUNA || HOW THEY WOULD APOLOGISE TO THEIR MAD S/O

| featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sakuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and a lot of my side comments

| form : headcanons

| published : 27 november

| request : Hello! How are you? Hope you’re taking care of yourself :3 can I request headcanons for Itadori, Megumi, Gojo, and Sukuna making their s/o really mad for x reason and what they would do to make it up to them/apologize? Thank you have a great day/night!

| barista’s notes : hiya! this one was kind of hard for me to do since it was hard to come up with reason on why you were mad at them (some of them are really stupid in my opinion...ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ) but this update is going to be the last one for the night since it is 12am aka midnight and i’m going back to school after being in isolation for 14 days!＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／thank you so much for requesting for a cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

ITADORI YUJI:

Itadori will be the most clueless boy ever and doesn’t even know that you are mad at him in the first place.

It might take a few days or a few hours at best for him to realise that you were mad at him - probably Fushiguro will tell him that you are pissed at the boy.

Once he FINALLY finds out that you are angry at him, he would try to think back on what he could have done to make you angry at him - and boy, does he think long and hard because once again to remind you: he is clueless.

Did he do something stupid again? Did he accidentally eat your food again? Did he forget something? DID HE FORGET AN IMPORTANT DATE? 

Yes, when he tries to recall what he did that made you annoyed at him, he does tend to overthink it.

You know what you were mad at him for? He had indeed eaten something of yours by accident. The reason why you were mad at him was because he ate the last of your ramen that you were saving after the mission that you were set was finished.

Now since Itadori thought he was completely screwed, he would full-on plan a whole game/movie night with you. 

Sukuna would lowkey mock the dude as Itadori was preparing his room causing our poor boy to worry even more since Sukuna was making him feel more nervous.

This preparation of his will include the game consoles set up, piles on DVDs on the table for you to choose for the both of you to watch and your favourite ramen that he brought from the closest store - that he also still doesn’t know he ate accidentally ate - cooked and set on the table for you guys to munch on.

Once everything is prepared, he would slap Sukuna’s mouth if he is still talking and would make his way to your room.

Now, this can go two different ways:

1. You are too stubborn to give in and refuse to leave the room that he would beg you and lowkey will physically drag you out of your room.

2. You would sigh and agree to follow him to see if he realises what was the issue and see what was going on because there was a lot of ruckus in his room from what you heard.

Once you see his room, you are generously surprised at what he had prepared since you didn’t think he would put this much effort to apologise to you - you generally just wanted a verbal ‘sorry’ but this was too cute to not forgive him.

Once both of you settle down and get into what YOU had chosen to do, he would apologize in a nervous tone since he STILL doesn’t know why you were mad at him.

“Yeah babe, I’m really sorry for what I did, well...I still don’t know what I did but I kinda notice you were mad at me and I didn’t know what to think since I thought I forgot a date that he planned or-”

This boy will ramble and ramble until you stop him by kissing him since you didn’t realise that he was overthinking it.

“Baby, don’t overthink it, I was mad because you ate the last ramen packet that I was saving but this whole thing really was a lot then what I expected, but thank you so much for preparing this whole thing! I love you!”

“Am I forgiven then?” - this boy I-

“Yes yes yes you are, I forgive you Yuji”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: 

Fushiguro Megumi. Now how do I say this? This pretty boy will be between not realising that you are mad and realising instantly that he had angered you.

When he doesn’t realise that you are mad at him, he would notice the small behaviour changes that you express from a slight frown on your face or now you would give him short answers.

Short answers being: “yeah”, “alright”, “okay”, “nah” ect, with the longest answers being “that’s fine/cool” or “I’m not feeling it”

But! That was only towards him, with the other guys you would give more detailed answers to them, making him surprised since he probably asked the same thing.

Once he realised that you were annoyed, (like Itadori) he would try to wonder what he had done wrong and (unlike Itadori) he would most likely figure out what he had done wrong this time.

The reason why you were mad at him? You were angry at the pretty boy because he was hiding his feelings again.

Even though you knew that Fushiguro wasn’t one to express his emotions freely like the others, you both promised each other that you would go to each other when either one of you was having issues or problems that were bothering you.

And since you knew that Fushiguro held in his emotions, you allowed him time to come to you when he needed - but this time, you knew there was something that was bothering him extremely to the point where he was getting distracted during missions

Distracted to the point where he was nearly hit if you didn’t come to protect him and allow him to snap out of his daze.

Now that the reason was identified, Fushiguro would quickly try to figure out how to now apologise to you. 

Since Fushiguro is a good listener, he would most likely buy a small bouquet of your favourite flowers since he remembered you mentioning that random fact from a conversation that you both had around when you and Fushiguro first met, trying to get to know each other.

He doesn’t apologise in front of anyone because this little issue was about you and him and not everyone else.

So when he found you somewhere in the hallways, he would lightly place a hand on your shoulder before shoving the flowers in front of your face - since he didn’t want you to see his flushed face.

Of course, you are really surprised since who wouldn’t be when a bunch of your favourite flowers just randomly appear in your face.

Once you take the flowers from his grasp, he would probably have a hand scratching the back of his neck - why was he nervous now when seconds before he was just fine?

“I’m really sorry…….for not telling you what was going on, I just didn’t want to bother you with my issue and all that,” - this would be said in a low mumble that you nearly couldn’t catch what he said.

“Mimi, telling me what is bothering you isn’t a bother, I want you to be okay, just please when you’re comfortable to come to talk to me, if you need a shoulder to lean on, I’m right here,”

There are times when Fushiguro forgets that you don’t mind him ranting off when he needs to and that you are a shoulder that he can lean on - he just used to keeping everything in until he met you.

“Also, you remember my favourite flowers, thank you so much, Mimi, you are forgiven, I love you,”

Just seeing you smile at him again after so long is enough for him to smile as well, knowing that you have forgiven him.

GOJO SATORU:

Mr Gojo ‘steal your girl’ Satoru. 

Now this man will make you mad on a daily but not to the point where you are now.

And Gojo will notice INSTANTLY that you are mad at him because he is so used to making you mad due to his constant teasing.

But this time you weren’t mad at him because he took his teasing over the line. No, no, no, you were mad at him because he was late for your date.

Even though Gojo is known to be very handsome and the ‘perfect’ person to everyone on the outside of the shaman world, his lateness was one of his worst traits about him.

Sometimes you ask yourself if he does this on purpose - but in the back of your mind, you know that he attracts many curses and that he had to fight them - but this time, you knew that he was late because he was just late.

So while you’re waiting for him with a slight scowl on your face, you would constantly check your phone to see if he texts you or just to check the time.

Of course, he would send the usual ‘I’m going to be late’ with a cute emoji at the end - like that was going to make your anger lessen at all.

But when he does text you that he had arrived at the date location, you were ready to explode at him for making you wait - for like how many dates now?

However, once he arrives with his fashionably late safe, he would come prepares - Haha try to get mad at him now~

In his hands, there would probably be a white bag containing the souvenir that he had been wanting to give you after his mission but didn’t have the time to, or a white box containing your favourite cake from your favourite cake shop/cafe/bakery.

Damn it, this guy knows that food always solves every issue~

“Sorry for being late to our date honey~ I wanted to get you your favourite cake that I forgot that there was going to be a long line at this time, hope you can forgive me~”

THEN THIS MAN WILL TILT HIS SUNGLASSES GLASSES TO LET YOU SEE HIS CRYSTAL BLUE EYES - LIKE WHY????

Damn it, now you can’t stay angry at this man.

The fact that he dressed up so nice, got you your favourite cake and let you see his beautiful eyes made you realise that you can no longer be mad at him.

Like the boy put in the effort today…

Taking the cake from his hands, you would probably blush and say “thank you...but I’m still mad at you”

If you say this, be prepared for this man to cup your cheeks and continuously kiss you, trying to affectionately make you forgive him. 

Okay okay okay, now he’s just trying to be very very cute.

“Am I forgiven now honey~ I’m sorry that I made you wait, please don’t be mad at me”

“Okay, okay! I forgive you!”

Expect that cheeky smile that he would give you after you forgive him - I mean like, you have to now.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

Apologise? Would he? Does he even know what ‘sorry’ means? Do you think he would?

If he really cares about you, he would probably push away his pride and there would be a 50/50 chance that he would apologise, so don’t expect it much.

But if you were really mad at him and ignore him for most of the day, he would probably get very very annoyed.

Why weren’t you paying him any attention? Why weren’t you looking at him? Why weren’t you asking for him to shift with Yuji and let him have you all to himself? Why?

The reason? You were mad at him because he exorcised a curse that you knew you had the capability to do yourself.

Does he think you're weak? You were just angry at the thought of Sukuna thinking you were frail since you were an independent woman and he had no right to do your goddamn job.

Once he gets to his boiling point, he would demand Itadoru to switch with him and if his vessel would ignore him for your sake, he would continuously shout at the boy even when he is trying to sleep - poor Itadori……

Once it gets too much for the boy, Itadori would run to you and just randomly grab your shoulders to stop you from what you were doing and quickly explain what was going on.

“Okay, I’m going to switch with Sukuna and you are going to talk to him. He’s been annoying me ever since you stopped talking to him, please shut him up!”

Then before you would even get a single syllable out of your mouth, he would just switch quickly to let the both of you deal with your situation.

“Okay woman, talk to me! What have I done?”

You would probably just stare at with an annoyed look and tut at him before turning your head away like he doesn’t exist.

However, he doesn’t take this action of yours lightly and would probably grab your chin - gently since you are mad at him - and would just start leaving biting your neck.

“Sukuna! Stop it, the marks are going to show!”

“Not until you tell me what I have done wrong woman”

“Sukuna! OKAY! You think I’m weak and I hate the fact that you think I am, I can exorcise curses myself you know!”

Ha? You were mad at him for protecting you? Sukuna thought that it was ridiculous that you were mad at him for that reason - but will just go with the flow because even though you were just a powerful sorcerer to him, you being angry was a slight fear of his (Sukuna fears Oh my….)

“Idiot, I was protecting you”

“I can protect myself dickhead”

“Ha? I apologise, then, there done, do you forgive me?”

Sukuna….what type of apology was that?

If you say no, he would just continue to bite on your neck to make you forgive him since he really wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Sukuna! Stop it!”

“Not until you forgive me little one,”

Ah, that nickname always gets to you, doesn’t it? - Girl, I don’t blame you….

“FINE FINE FINE! I forgive you, just stop biting my neck”

Looking up at you and looking you at dead in the eyes, he would literally say, “I don’t think so, I was actually having some fun marking your neck, let me continue little one”

I-.....go ahead…….

[hongism]

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

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

​​​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? We have lessons every weekday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Mimi.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he has a really nice smile.

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

“Her mother used to call her that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe some other time.”

“Like you mentioned.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, you two are so gross.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you have a date.”

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

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

“Hey! It does look good!”

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

“Well, maybe I am!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

San draws his lips into a tight purse.

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

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

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

“I’m not scared.”

Lie. They all know it too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you trying to say?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s an oddly specific threat…”

“I said no complaining!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’d love to!”

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

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

“That’s fine. Take your time!”

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

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

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

“You good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her mother used to call her that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“Are you truly real?”

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

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

“You forgot the stutter.”

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

“My apologies, Y-Yunho.”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

“Not into marriage?”

“Not into women.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you need me to watch Akemi?”

Hongjoong hadn’t even hesitated to ask the question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ran into Akemi’s mother.”

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need a drink. Or thirty.”

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

“Can I convince you to stay for one?”

How can Hongjoong say no to that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would be a fantastic father.”

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

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

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

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

“You thought I did?”

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

Someone like you.

Taken.

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

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

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

“Any terrible exes I need to know about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Low alcohol tolerance?”

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

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

“Daddy?”

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

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

“I heard you laughing with Mr. Hong!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tipsy.”

“You admitting it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah?”

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

“Maybe you should stay the night.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

Their noses bump against each other.

Yunho doesn’t move away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nut,” he whispers, stifling a giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need me to repeat myself?”

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

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

“Only if you want me to.”

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

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

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

“I like that.”

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

“An adorable one nonetheless.”

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

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

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

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

“I want you to kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you need help changing? I can—”

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

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

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

“Do you need help?”

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

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

“I’m still here, Hongjoong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Maybe you aren’t ready for this.”

“For what, Wooyoung?”

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

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

“Do you want this, Hongjoong?”

“He doesn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna hear it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Variations On The Word Love by Margaret Atwood.”

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

“We’ll fall down the stairs, Yunho.”

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

Why is Yunho different?

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

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

You can hold on or let go.

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alone?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hongjoong…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friend.

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

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

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

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

“Then what do you want me to be?”

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

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

“I want you to be nothing to me.”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a surprise, shush.”

“Wooyoung–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow, you bitch!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You… I-I – why did you come?”

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

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

Yunho presses his lips into a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you crying on my birthday?”

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

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

“I don’t want you to be nothing.”

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

“What else did you hope I would say?”

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

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

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her mother used to call her that.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, babe. Have fun with that!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t need to thank me.”

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

“I want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not.”

“So kiss m—”

“Got drinks!”

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

Fuck Jung Wooyoung.

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll just be you and Akemi then?”

“Yup, first time too.”

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

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

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

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, y-yeah, uh—”

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

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

So why? Why does this feel so different?

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

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

“H-Huh?” Hongjoong stammers.

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

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

No, Hongjoong, bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I put up mistletoe then?”

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

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

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

“Do you need an excuse?”

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

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

“Are you asking me to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you, Hongjoong.”

“Y-You what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How could I not when it’s you?” Yunho is holding his cheek now, thumb caressing his face like Hongjoong is a piece of glass in his hands. “You’re… everything I could ever have asked for in a person. Everything and more. I wish I could put it into words – how you make me feel – but the best I can do is say I think I love you.”

This word is not enough but it will have to do.

“I think I love you too.” It scares Hongjoong to admit that out loud; it’s something he could never even let himself say in his thoughts, but Yunho pulls the words from his lips with no effort at all. Like he’s meant to say it.

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

His chest burns a little from the heat of all the emotions running through his body. Yunho pulls him closer, one hand still wrapped around Hongjoong’s delicate waist with the other dragging soft patterns over his cheek. They have been this close for so long. They’ve worked in this standstill where they are together but apart, close but far away, and now all that’s left to do is increase the distance or close it forever.

A breath.

It is Hongjoong’s turn to inhale as Yunho sighs over his still-swollen lips.

A finger grip on a cliffside.

The way Yunho’s eyes rake over his face is intimate in a way Hongjoong can’t describe. Yunho almost speaks through only that gaze, like he’s telling – no, asking, pleading, begging Hongjoong to hold onto him and not let go.

You can hold on or let go.

Hongjoong, at last, has decided that he wants to hold on, even if the past has scarred him and the future scares him.

…

Hongjoong arrives outside Yunho’s door on Christmas day with a knot in his stomach that won’t go away. It’s not a bad sort of knot – at least he thinks it isn’t – but it is one that leaves him a bit nervous. The butterfly necklace Yunho gifted him still sits around his neck, not taken off once since Yunho gifted it to him, and the bag of gifts in his hands feels heavier than usual. He and Yunho have spoken since that night, but Hongjoong hasn’t come over again nor have they discussed what the events of that night entail for them moving forward. It would taste a lie on his lips if Hongjoong tried to say that he hasn’t been thinking about kissing Yunho every day since.

“Mr. Hong! You’re here! Mr. Hong is here, Daddy!” The door swings open to reveal Akemi, all dolled up in a precious little plaid dress with small butterfly clips in her hair, and Hongjoong’s nerves melt away at the sight of her bright smile. Then Yunho steps into view, much less dolled up and more looking like he just rolled out of bed five minutes ago, but Hongjoong can’t say that he doesn’t look damn good as it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about the possibility of waking up to a Yunho with bedhead and flushed cheeks.

“Can you take the gifts in for him, Mimi?” Yunho asks, running a hand through Akemi’s hair. She beams back at him and takes the bag in Hongjoong’s hands away without complaint, which leaves Hongjoong suddenly very empty-handed and alone before Yunho. “Hi friend.”

Friend? Hongjoong cocks his head to the side.

“That’s what you said the first time I tried to kiss you,” Yunho explains upon seeing Hongjoong’s confusion.

“Hi friend,” Hongjoong replies through a stretched grin. The sight of Yunho before him is making him feel a bit bold, maybe too reckless, but he rolls with it and stretches up on his tiptoes to place a small kiss on the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “Merry Christmas.”

“We’re not even under the mistletoe yet.”

Hongjoong squints and looks off to the side, pretending to think the words through, then breaks into a broad smile.

“Need an excuse to kiss me then?”

“Never,” Yunho murmurs before dipping in to give Hongjoong a proper kiss on the lips, and it’s everything he could have wanted and more. Everything about Yunho feels safe and warm, like something Hongjoong never wants to let go of, and thankfully Yunho seems to think the same of him as his lips chase after Hongjoong’s when the shorter man pulls away.

“Daddy! Mr. Hong will get cold if you don’t let him in!”

“Yeah, Yunho! Do you want me to get all cold out here?” Hongjoong teases, stepping around Yunho to properly greet Akemi inside.

“I had to wake Daddy up because he was trying to sleep in this morning,” the little girl explains when Hongjoong squats down to be eye level with her.

“Did you? Shame on him! He should know to be up early for Christmas morning!”

“He should! He said he stayed up late, so I think he was trying to spy on Santa.”

“Spy on Santa? My goodness, Yunho, you are causing trouble left and right.”

“Yes, well, Santa and I had to meet up during the night. I had to ask him for one more gift.”

“He didn’t leave any other gifts on the fireplace though, Daddy!” Akemi protests, motioning to the hearth behind her. Yunho blinks at the spot for a moment then turns to look down at Hongjoong with a smile.

“He brought my gift to the door this morning it seems.”

Hongjoong releases a scoff to hide his embarrassment and reaches over to swat at Yunho’s stupidly long legs.

“You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah, Daddy! Ew! Don’t say icky things!” Akemi scrunches up her nose and feigns disgust although Hongjoong isn’t sure she can even understand what Yunho means by his comment, so she might just be playing along with Hongjoong’s show of disgust. Yunho shakes his head a little but relents in his grossly cheesy comments to say something else.

“Mimi, honey, can you run upstairs for a moment? Daddy wants to talk to Mr. Hong in private for a little bit, then when we’re done, we can open up all the presents!”

“Okay, Daddy! Can I play with my dolls while I wait?”

“Of course, baby, go ahead. Run, run! We won’t be long, I promise!” Yunho shoos the little girl off, watching her bound up the stairs with nothing but fondness in his eyes, and he continues to stare after her even after Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet.

“Talk in private?” Hongjoong asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was going to wait until after gifts and such but… you decided to kiss me right off the bat, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus after that.”

“Are you saying that I’m distracting, Mr. Jeong?”

“In more ways than one, absolutely.” Yunho draws his lips into a tight purse then presses them into a thin line in the same motion. “What do you want us to be, Hongjoong?”

That’s… not the question Hongjoong was expecting.

“I’m content with it being up to you,” he whispers in response.

“If – so if I asked for us to be exclusive, what would you say?” Hongjoong’s heart leaps in his chest.

“Say the word and I’m yours, Yunho.”

“Well, you can’t say things like that. I’ll lose all my inhibitions before noon,” Yunho chuckles, dipping his head to his chest. Hongjoong takes a step closer to him and closes a bit of the distance between their bodies. He lifts a hand in a sudden bout of confidence and cups Yunho’s cheek.

“I want to be yours and only yours. Even if I’m scared of the future and what it holds, I don’t want to lose what we have or what we could have. So if you would have me, I will gladly be yours for as long as you want me.”

“And if I happen to want you forever?”

“Then you’re stuck with me,” Hongjoong murmurs. The undisclosed promises in those words sting a bit, memories of the past threatening to resurface until Yunho chases them away with his next words.

“Do you – do you want me as well?”

“I want you,” he whispers while the confidence still lasts. He delivers a quick kiss to the tip of Yunho’s nose. “I like you—” another to his right cheek “—I need you—” one where his thumb ends and Yunho’s skin begins “—and I’m madly in love with you, Jeong Yunho.”

It’s good that Hongjoong has nothing else to say because Yunho cuts off his air, lips smashing hard against his with an almost bruising force, and Hongjoong could almost cry because of all the emotions built up in his chest. He scrambles to wrap his arms around Yunho’s neck as the other man deepens the kiss. His back curls hard to press himself fully against Yunho. There’s a certain kind of desperation in his body, one that just makes him want to pull Yunho closer and kiss him for hours on end. Even if it’s not their first kiss or their last, Hongjoong cherishes it nonetheless. They only pull apart when every ounce of air has left their bodies and they’re on the verge of blacking out. Yunho gasps for air, huffing in deep breaths stolen from Hongjoong’s exhales, and it’s too close, too intimate, too everything. Hongjoong doesn’t want it to stop even for a second.

“Good because I’m in love with you too, Hongjoong. And I plan to continue loving you for as long as I can.”

He would like to think that there are unspoken promises in those words as well, ones that only the two of them know, but for now, Hongjoong will live in this moment as long as he can without thinking about the past or the future. He has Yunho now, and that's enough for him.

..

a/n: hi wow yes you made it to the end of this fic!! this is officially the longest standalone fic i’ve ever written and god it’s long as hell and took the life out of me but i absolutely adore this fic and am very proud of it and myself for finishing it! i hope you all enjoy as much as i do :c

[woogyu]

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter One

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au, this is mostly just setting everything up, i’ve got BIG PLANS

word count; 1617

previous | next | masterlist

summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

** y/g/n = your gamer name

“Okay I’ve died like 18 times now, I think it’s time for me to give up” you said, looking in the monitor to see you friend, and fellow streamer, chucking softly. “C’mon, you’ve just been unlucky, let’s play a few more rounds” Ciri told you as she ran around completing tasks. You peaked down to take a look at the comments, smiling when you saw a lot of them were encouraging you to stay.

“Thanks everyone in the comments, and fine I’ll hang around for a few more” you said with a bright smile. This was the life of being an online gaming streamer. Smiling for the cameras and trying out different games. A lot of the time it was just trying to keep up with what was popular, right now it seemed to be Among Us. The game itself was fun enough, but you grew bored of it quick.

“Ciri, how is it that you’ve gotten imposter like 3 times in a row now” you groaned, shifting your headset a bit as you got ready for another game. “Life of a Witcher my dear y/g/n” she commented back in a fake accent. The two of you spent the next hour playing, it mostly consisted of Ciri whooping your ass. You made sure to thank new subscribers and people who donated as you went along.

“We had almost 20 thousand people tuned in for that one” Ciri told you after the steam had ended, the two of you having your normal video chat wrap up. You weren’t always the popular stream y/n, you started off making less than perfect videos for a handful of people and grew from there. Your channel grew a lot when you found the other girls. You, Ciri, Mimi, Cat and Maia were a group that the internet liked to call the ‘Gamer Gurlzz’. After the five of you started streaming together, viewership increased a lot. You comment section was often filled with a lot of higkey creepy dudes, but they were also the ones that tipped the best. You could handle some weird comments if it got you through college.

“Wow, that’s quite a big jump from last time” you commented with a low whistle, moving to put your gaming equipment away. “I’ll edit the stream so we can each upload it to the YouTube channel too” Ciri said, typing away one her keyboard. You smiled, it was Ciri’s idea to start the Gamer Gurlzz YouTube channel, a place for the five of you to upload edited streams and other extra content. “My dedicated little Witcher” you commented with a bright grin, earning a glare from the girl on the other side of the camera.

“We should start filming more vlog like content for the channel, people seemed to be really into it. They like the whole ‘getting to know us’ aspect of it I guess” Ciri explained, slipping her glasses on as she peered at the screen. You know that without Ciri both you and the other girls wouldn’t be nearly as popular as you are now. She was the brains of all of this, followed the numbers and helped guide your content. “Hmmm, of course they like that” you murmured, grabbing a make-up wipe and beginning to cleanse your face. You like streaming when it just involved gaming, when you just went by the fake name you created for your channel, y/g/n. You didn’t like the idea of random people on the internet knowing more about who you actually were, you wanted to keep some privacy.

“As long as we are careful about it, we should be okay” Ciri said slowly, understanding why you were worried. “I just don’t want people to start showing up where I shop and stuff. Remember how bad it was when someone leaked Maia’s hometown. She could barely leave her apartment without getting swarmed” you shivered, the memory not one you were eager to replicate. “I promise I’ll edit out or blur anything that could be revealing” Ciri said softly, not wanting to put any of her friends in danger.

“Thanks C, you’re really MVP of this team you know” you told her with a smile. Not only was she the most reliable co-worker you had, she was your best friend, you would trust her with anything. “Yeah yeah y/n, now isn’t it late there, go to bed” she urged you, rolling her eyes as she sat back in her chair. You hummed as you checked the clock, time zones made it difficult to set up streaming times with the other girls. “It’s 2am, I probably should head to bed” you said yawning, collecting your hair up in a ponytail. “Night babe, I’ll have it uploaded by the time you wake up” she said, blowing a kiss at the camera before hanging up. Ciri always had a way of making you feel better, like everything would actually be okay. You really trusted her to make sure that it was.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next morning you logged on to see that Ciri had uploaded the video and it had gained quite a few views in the short time it had been up. People were talking about it all over social media, which would be good publicity for your solo stream later today. Picking up your phone you quickly made a quick tweet about the stream to remind everyone:

Morning everyone! Thanks for all the support you showed me and @WithcherCiri last night. I have a solo stream later on today starting at 1pm, I’ll be playing some Genshin Impact and chatting with you all!

After pressing the send button, you set your phone down and hopped into the shower. You liked to alter your appearance a little bit for streams, mainly so that without the hair and make-up you could usually walk around without getting noticed. So far it had worked pretty well, which you were grateful for. After getting ready and slipping into something comfy, you slipped your headset on and began checking your equipment. Your tweet from earlier had gained a lot of positive attention, so you were eager to see how this stream would go.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As it got closer to 1pm you began setting up, checking your lighting and getting ready. After pressing start you waited a few seconds before greeting the viewers with a bright smile and a small wave. “Hey everyone! Thanks for stopping by today” you said cheerfully, reading some of the comments before you started to play. There were a few usernames that always stood out to you, people who had been supporting you since the very beginning that were still around today. One of the ones that never missed a steam and was always active in the chat was someone who went by @gyu_97. You obviously didn’t know who they were, but you were always grateful for people who had been supporting you for a long time.

“Gyu_97 asked if I prefer cats or dogs? Definitely dogs” you said with a laugh, you couldn’t help but search for their comments sometimes. It was almost like seeing a familiar face in the crowd. “why? Oh well, I don’t know, I’ve always really loved big fluffy dogs. They are so warm and cuddly” you said with a giggle, answering a few other questions before turning to the game. You streamed for longer than you usually did, but you couldn’t help it, the crowd was really engaging today and fun to be around. You didn’t have any creeps commenting about your body or anyone talking trash, it was a really positive stream.

“I should probably go make something to eat” you told the camera as it neared 3pm, your stomach grumbling in protest of the lack of food. “I forgot to eat lunch this morning” you explained with a short laugh. “Don’t worry, the girls and I will be on tomorrow night for our regular weekly stream, so you’ll see me there. Thank you everyone for hanging out with me on this long stream today” you ended the video with a smile and a wave. Once the camera was off you collapsed back into your chair, rubbing your shoulders as you relaxed for the first time in two and a half hours.

“Right… food” you mumbled to yourself, standing up and heading toward the kitchen, you could deal with your equipment later on. A lot of people liked to tell you that being a stream online wasn’t a ‘real job’, but they didn’t know the amount of work that went into it. Each stream took up one to two hours of your time on average, and then there was all the time spent setting up and planning what you would play next. It was a full-time job that often had you working long days and sometimes even longer nights. You really didn’t mind, you enjoyed doing it and were thankful for the opportunity to do so. You just hated when people treated it like it was some easy hobby.

The rest of your night was spent editing your earlier stream so Ciri could upload it to YouTube and planning out the rest of your month. You email was a beat you weren’t quite ready to tackle after a long day; you were just eager to go get a bath and lie down for a while. Ever since you turned gaming into a form of income you never really played for pleasure anymore, it was something you really wished could change, but you could never find the energy to do so. Maybe someday you would rediscover the fun you used to have with playing games, but you didn’t see that happening any time soon.

[starlxghtmoon]

Spread Your Wings || Chapter One

Pairing: Hawks x Reader || Tangled AU

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2,000+ words

A/N: I’m super nervous about this, but excited! Sorry if this first part is boring, it’s supposed to act as an introduction and I tried to add more feeling to it than just happiness all around ajbfkjabkjawoifn but whoever reads this shitty fic of mine, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own BNHA or Tangled, both and all characters except OCs [Mimi the cat] belong to their respective creators. This is purely creative fun.

Chapter Two

Masterlist

An elderly hooded woman approached the shrub with caution, looking around to see if anyone had followed her before pulling back her hood and uncovered the mysterious object. Underneath sat a golden flower, it looked ethereal with the way it softly glowed in the night; many tales have been made about this flower, some say it bloomed from a droplet of the sun that fell to the earth and could cure any illness, heal any wound. But the woman who was selfishly hoarding it, used it to stall her own time with a simple song.

“Flower, gleam and glow.” 

The flower began to glow brighter as she sang her song in her old worn voice.

“Let your power shine.

Make the clock reverse.

Bring back what once was mine.

What once was mine.”

As she finished her song, her aged voice grew rich and light, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips as her appearance shifted back to her younger days, gray going black. But the sound of shouts and flickering lights interrupted her serenity and in her rush to hide the flower once more and hide her own identity, she knocked over the shrub disguise, uncovering the flower for the guards approaching her spot to find.

“We found it!” A guard called out, commencing the uprooting of the magical flower, bringing it to the ill queen and healing her sickness. Soon after a princess would be born with snow white hair and e/c eyes.

However one evening, that same woman would sneak into the king and queen’s quarters where the baby peacefully slept, needing the flower’s magic to stall her mortal time once more.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

She began to sing again in her croaky voice, the baby girl’s hair, white as snow began to glow a soft f/c. The woman leaned in, reaching out for a strand of her pure white hair, the effects of the magic flower already doing it’s work on the woman’s body. 

“Let your power shine.

Make the clock…”

The woman cut a strand of her hair as it glowed, but it immediately lost its power, the strand of hair changing from stark white to h/c. And since she’d cut her own song short, the magic didn’t take, reverting her back to her aged self. Gasping out of shock, the woman had no other choice than to take the baby.

As the child let out a cry, the woman scooped up the baby and made her escape, the sound of the baby’s cries awoke the king and queen, sending them both into a panic as the woman stole away the baby, disappearing into the night.

Restlessly, the kingdom searched and searched for the princess, but deep in the forest, hidden away in a tower, the woman would raise the girl as her own. Determined to keep her new flower hidden.

However, as well as the woman could keep the girl hidden, she couldn’t hide the outside from her as each year on her birthday, lanterns would be released into the night sky in hopes that the lost princess would return. And that lost princess was...you.

The shutters of the tower were swung open, as you grinned mischievously and looked around out the window. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of a fluffy black tail swishing around behind one of the potted plants. You slapped a hand over your mouth and snorted softly before getting an idea and a mischievous glint to your eye. Straightening up and crossing your arms, you nonchalantly shrugged and looked away.

“Well, I guess Mimi isn’t out here.” You spoke, easing the midnight creature outside your window, making her let her guard down before suddenly she was yanked up by her tail, letting out a distressed meow. “Gotcha!” You exclaimed with an amused laugh. Letting the cat down from your trap of hair, you began to add on, “That’s 22 for me. How about 23 out of 45?” The cat grumbled in response, “Okay. Well, what do you wanna do?” The cat perked up at that question, letting out a gleeful meow and turning to the outside of the window, pawing out with a suggestive nod. “Yeah. I don’t think so.” You picked up the cat and swung your legs around to dangle out the window, placing the ball of fur in your lap. “I like it in here, and so do you.” Pointing at the cat, she stared up at you unimpressed. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re literally a cat. You should like being inside with me.” Mimi’s ears drew back in distaste. She did like being inside, but she also adored you and wanted you to have a taste of the outside world too. You've been cooped up in this place for 18 years straight, c’mon! “Oh, come on, Mimi. It’s not so bad in there.” You scritched behind her ear, eliciting a purr from deep within the cat’s chest before you pulled the cat into your chest and slid back inside.

You climbed up onto the roof beams, preparing for the morning and opening up the ceiling shutters before swinging back down with your hair. You then glanced over at the clock on her wall and began your day with your usual routine.

“Seven a.m. the usual morning lineup.”

Fetching the broom, you started with sweeping up the floors.

“Start on the chores and sweep till the floor’s all clean.”

Next, you equipped yourself with a mop and scrubbers to continue on with your chores. If you didn’t, you’d surely die of boredom. Not that you didn't already suffer from basically being a bird trapped in the cage you called home.

“Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up.”

At least you had Mimi there to keep your spirits up as you swept around the tower again, checking the clock again with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Sweep again and by then it’s like, 7:15.”

It only took you a good 15 minutes to do all that? Sighing a little, you continued on with busying yourself. What a drag.

“And so I’ll read a book or maybe two or three.

I’ll add a few new paintings to my gallery.”

You knew you were running out of space on the walls, but you could always find nifty places and open spots to paint. One day you might run out of room and as morbid as it sounded, the thought did cross your mind that you’d even expire here. But you hoped you wouldn’t, you stayed optimistic that you’d be able to leave the nest and fly. Until then, you’d continue busying yourself around the tower, counting the hours and days… maybe even years. Hopefully your activities would help distract you from those spiraling thoughts as well, it was for the better that you were stuck here, right?

“I’ll play guitar and knit and basically,

Just wonder when will my life begin?”

As you pulled a freshly baked pie out of the oven, you spotted the perfect spot to paint on the wall, measuring it up with your hands. 

Busting out your paint, you shoved the decorative piece aside and began painting. Filling the spot with soft blue paint as a base and planning out what you'd put there.

“Then after lunch it’s puzzles and darts and baking.

Papier-mache, a bit of ballet and chess.”

At this point, you were just annoying Mimi with your various different hobbies you picked up. Internally cackling at her torment. But none of it was malicious, Mimi loved you and you loved Mimi, she was your only solace here. One would never abandon the other. Your bond was unbreakable. 

“Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making.

Then I’ll stretch,

Maybe sketch,

Take a climb,

Sew a dress.”

Mimi was absolutely over it and exhausted when you put her in a minidress resembling yours. She lowkey loved it, but it just wasn’t right. Cats weren’t supposed to wear dresses, but Mimi sure looked adorable in one!

“And I’ll reread the books if I have time to spare.

I’ll paint the walls some more

I’m sure there’s room somewhere.”

Now you were really getting stuck, looking for spots was slowly becoming more and more impossible. You sighed a little, slowly the same old same old was beginning to eat away at you. Grumbling a little, you decided to instead distract yourself with brushing your lengthy hair.

“And then I’ll brush

And brush and brush

And brush my hair.

Stuck in the same place I’ve always been.”

Finishing up brushing the ends of your hair, you sat there for a moment, breathing out a puff of air. You looked around from your seat upon the beams of the roof. The space was big and anyone would be comfy in a home like this. Right, a home, not a tower. You were a caged bird. And you certainly had the ability to leave, you could do whatever you wanted with your 70 foot long hair... but would you? Probably not, you wouldn’t dare betray your mother. Besides, the world was a dangerous place, your mother said so multiple times. But… you longed for something more. To feel the grass on your feet, feel the wind flow through your hair, swim in the water, explore the world and… see the floating lights that never failed to appear on your birthday every year.

"And I'll keep wondering and wondering

And wondering and wondering

When will my life begin?"

You approached the open window of the tower, longingly looking out at the scenery before you and sighing softly. Tomorrow you'd turn 18. For a moment, you wondered how many more birthdays you'd have to spend locked away, with so many questions and curiosities.

"Tomorrow night the lights will appear

Just like they do on my birthday each year."

You rested your cheek within your palm, leaning on the window sill as your gaze swooped around the trees and hills surrounding the tower. Your heart ached for more than what you had here and in a way, it made you feel guilty. Your mother did everything for you, she sheltered you, she fed you, she gave you a home and unconditional love. Sure, she was harsh and brash sometimes, but she only wanted the best for you, she wanted to keep you safe. She was protecting you and your gift. You wouldn't survive without her. At least, that’s what you believed.

"What is it like out there where they glow

Now that I'm older.

Mother might just let me go."

You put the finishing touches on that painting you'd been working on, you were jealous of your own artwork. The depiction you'd made of yourself watching the floating lights with pure amazement and wonder. You placed your hand on the dry paint, brows furrowing in frustration. Why do you feel so guilty for something you want?

"Wow, I could get used to a view like this." His stop on the roof caught the attention of the two men with him. The dark haired one of the two rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"So could I-! I've seen better." The masked man with them commented, switching from amazement to stuck up. His outburst made the dark haired one immediately hush him, the masked man slapping his hands over his mouth.

"Do you wanna get caught or something?" 

"Sorry, Dabi." He spoke lower this time, making Dabi shake his head a little in dismissal before redirecting his attention to the other man with them who continued to stare at the view. 

"Hawks. We gonna do this or what?"

"Hold on." He made him pause, Dabi rose a brow, heavily annoyed and completely fed up with his antics. "Yep. I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle." Hawks placed his hands on his hips, still admiring the view.

"We do this job, you can buy your own damn castle. Yeah?" Dabi stepped forward, grabbing the blonde by his collar and yanking him back.

Dabi and Twice securely held onto the rope, carefully lowering Hawks down into the crown room. If it were up to Dabi, he would've dropped his ass for the guards to take, but they needed that damn crown and he was gonna get it. 

One of the guards sneezed and Hawks let out a mocking groan, "Hay fever?" The guard looked over his shoulder, not noticing that he was there.

"Yeah." He looked back in front of him before realization dawned on him, "Huh?" He whipped around, the crown and Hawks gone. His gaze darted up, but they were already gone and so was the lost princess's crown.

"Can't you picture me in a castle of my own? Cause I certainly can." The trio sprinted away from the castle, Dabi ignoring Hawks with a roll of his eyes as Twice switched back and forth between approval and disapproval. "All the things we've seen and it's only eight in the morning! Gentlemen, this is a very big day!" 

"Would you shut up already!"

"Yeah, shut up, Hawks! No! Be louder!"

"Ugh…"

[rurulaura]

digimon tri. rant thing

So, I was making new screenshots of Meiko for the last few weeks to make a phone wallpaper with. Kind of shocking I never did that before isn’t it? As someone who is so obsessed... 

So anyway, I was rewatching the series, but fast forwarding to Meiko’s scenes. Doing so made me realize that more things bothered me about the series than I remembered. 

I didn’t realize how I wasn’t the only one that thought this not in such a rage mindset. I ran a salt blog between part 1 and 4 where I shitposted. THat blog is now deleted. But I was so emotionally angry, that I couldn’t think straight, if that makes sense. I couldn’t put the logic to my emotions.

It’s been a few years and “rewatching” tri. brought these feelings back, but now I can look at it more logically.. I’m more mentally sound, so I was to see more. Hah, taichi’s goggles reference. See more, understand less. Get it? Well anyway. It ended up a little long. Enjoy.

Initially, anything that bothered me I tried to come up with an explanation for. I just thought back then, surely I am just not a deep enough person to fully comprehend what is obviously here. I don’t remember the last I rewatched tri., probably last year, but this darn pandemic makes feel it’s been a decade. The situation with the 02 kids is something I tried to come up with an explanation for. 

Sure, I can see the lead up to their disappearance, discovering Maki’s and Yggdrasil’s plan. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking too. (Ok, but a detective/ hacker 02 squad? How can you say no to that! Can you blame me???) But ultimately, now that I look back on it. Just doesn’t make sense. 

\The four of them would have definitely called the other chosen for help. Daisuke and Miyako might be irrational at times, but I think even they would have realized they couldn’t hadle this.  Miyako and Iori would have definitely needed Hikari and Takeru by their side for Jogress. They would realized they would  need Koushirou for contact. Taichi and Yamato for Omegamon. Plus, the timeline for Reunion to Determination seems to be 2 months. They would have 1,000,000,000% have realized four of their friends were missing. The six of them are hanging out together. Miyako, HIkari, Takeru, and Daisuke are not just in the same grade, But I bet you they are still in the same darn school. I tried to make sense of this. Maybe this would make sense in a week period. But honestly. These 6 idiots would have known. 

In Determination, mysterious man shows up as the “Digimon Kaiser” and no one bats an eye. They all 100% think that’s Ken. After everything that poor kid has been through. and to top it all off Imperialdramon. You think Ken would EVER not only USE someonelse’s Digimon for his own doing, BUT PUT HIS PARTNER AND HIS BEST FRIEND’S PARTNER IN POTENTIAL DANGER? TO ACCOMPLISH WHAT EXACTLY? No. Absoulutely not. 

In Loss, when “gennai” was blowing up the kids with Mugendramon, one of the kids said “IS that really Gennai?” Then Takeru responds, “No way . Gennai would never do this!”

Takeru, TK. Teeks. Honey, remember how that old geezer didn’t even show up until half way through your adventure to guide you? Remember three years later when he didn’t appear until the world was pretty ending? YOU TRUST THAT GEEZER MORE THAT YOUR FRIEND. How freaking dare you. It was bad enough when Sora also said “Oh, stop Ichijouji-kun!” When she was pinned down and sexually harassed by mysterious man. 

I remembered trying to defend this. Saying “Oh, they just didn’t know what to call him.” In Japan there are so many ways to refer to someone in third person. Just like for the non-binary community,  They ask to be called “they/them”. It’s not that difficult to find those third person pronouns in English. I mean, even we have had nicknames. Dark Gennai, Kennai, Mysterious Man. 

There are some other nuances that didn’t make sense to me in the series. Like in part 5, when Meiko is sitting outside the school after having spoken with Taichi Agumon shows up in front of her. Agumon talks about how he wasn’t scared of the scary story she told. Agumon then states “I love Meicoomon, and I know she loves you too!”. I never got why Meiko teared up and hugged Agumon. I don’t get how that was comforting. 

Also in part 5, no one is suprised that Daigo could get into the Digital WOrld? I’m pretty disappointed that they basically used the Original Chosen Children for plot only. Because none of the kids cared that “Hey! How come you can get into the Digital World without a Digivice?” Or Taichi caring in the basement with the 02 kids/gennai with Daigo talking Maki also having partner. Why did you introduce them in this way, if you were just using for plot purposes? You can say, “Oh, it’s just time constraints.”

But there’s so much in tri. where you can say that to. It really does show how sloppy tri. was. 

We never really got to see much of Meiko’s personality. As a kid she’s shown as a happy go lucky kid. Seems like adventuring/exploring. I.e. “Meicoomon and I would always play in the woods behind my house.” She also knows to how to make fire. Cool skill. Seen drawing. Cool. 

Ok, so what happened in those 6 years to make her to traumatized that she’s so withdrawn and selfloathing? Were she and Meicoomon being chased for that long? Targeted? Without any of the 12 knowing? Koushirou made a huge Chosen Child database, wouldn’t they know if a Chosen Child out there was in that much danger? WOuldn’t they know the DIgital WOrld was being attacked and put in danger by a mutation? Why logically move her to Tokyo 6 years later to “protect her”. Yeah, I get it. For plot reasons. It’s just sloppy.

Like, the transfer student trope is done in anime alllll the time. But this one obviously screams plot convinience. Then to top it off, Meiko moves BACK to Tottori. Why? I get being mortified that you asked your new friends to kill your partner. That you feel you don’t deserve their friendship and that’ll close you off to others. But why move in a 5 month span? Look, I know it’s anime and things don’t have to make sense. But when you have so many plot points just for convenience, it’s sloppy! So poor! 

Like, Meiko could just stay in Tokyo. And the end of tri. is just the 12 of them at her door with presents and they have a christmas party. You can still have a one off character live in the same city. Michael and Wallace still live in New York as far I know. and hey, wallace even got a cameo in Kizuna! 

Also,, in part 2. Mimi has a discussion with Meiko in the clothing store that Mimi can’t stand people that aren’t honest with themselves. This bothers Meiko. I thought this was just because Meiko knew of the infection and didn’t tell anyone. But later in part 3, Meiko says she knew Meicoomon was special, but not that it would come to this. So the reaction there doesn’t make sense. 

Other inappropriate reactions consist of Agumon’s constant “I’m hungry!” jokes during serious moments. “It’s comedy releif for the dark scenes!” For a few sure, not constantly through out 6 movies. It got really old really fast. That also just doesn’t fit their personalities.  Patamon’s ship bait in part 6 was not cool. 

Also, really don’t like the girls in bikinis. Didn’t like it either. Still makes sense to not like it now. 

I think those are my biggest gripes. I’m going rewatch adventure and 02 at some point. I’ll probably have more gripes about the older cast. 

[fizzingwizard]

Episode 41 was another fun one! It doesn’t seem related to the main plot, but that’s ok because we needed more world-building. And it does give us a bit of character development. Most importantly of all, it’s the DESPERATELY needed Sora-focused episode. And it’s all hers. We really needed this for Sora and I’m really happy with how it went down. It’s a simple, easy to follow story, and yet it was still cute and funny and good for Sora.

My one complaint would be that, though it’s great to see Sora be awesome and see her friends appreciate her, she didn’t seem to have something she needed to “overcome” like Jou and Koushirou, or something she had to prove like Yamato and Mimi. There’s definitely an important theme for Sora which, like the others, is related to her Crest. It just didn’t have the gravitas I felt it needed. It was a much sillier episode than Yamato’s, for instance. (But nowhere near as silly as Jou’s.) Still, overall very good.

Pic of the day:

A vision of perfection.

More below!

First off, the animation in this episode is really nice. Almost uniform througohut, and some seriously great expressions. CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE

The kids are taking a break (yay!!!! again!! I sweat the producers are reading my blog, HELLO PRODUCERS, THANKS FOR GIVING ME EVERYTHING I ASKED FOR, lol). Taichi and Sora spend it teaching the Digimon to play soccer. Interestingly, some of the Digimon evolve in order to play x’D I guess I can see why Gomamon can’t really play unless he’s Ikkakumon. Plus Tailmon is already Adult level anyway.

It’s really fun to see how much Sora and Taichi both love soccer and love playing it together. Koushirou has a cute moment explaining to the others how awesome Taichi and Sora’s teamwork is.

Sora blows the whistle on Tentomon for grabbing her because you don’t do that in soccer. I think this is a little unfair given that Tentomon can’t really kick the ball that well since he’s got bug feet xD

The whistle Sora has, for some reason, is Jou’s, given to him by his brother so that if he runs into a bear in the woods, he can whistle for help. Lol. That is adorable and hilarious. Still wish it was Hikari’s whistle though

Speaking of Hikari, she and Takeru are happily engaged in making flower crowns together while Patamon smushes the grass.

All of a sudden, these weird, veiny meteors come crashing from a huge island floating in the sky, leaving a crater in the field. Could be dangerous!

Taichi: I’m not afraid. Besides, I’m curious.

Yamato: Be careful, Takeru.

Takeru: Yeah, be careful, Hikari.

omg too cute

I mean look at these expressions and body language. It’s fantastic. I love how Taichi looks like he’s trying not to get too close as he pokes the object with a stick and how Koushirou is like hiding behind his computer lol.

They discover it’s not a meteor, but a fruit. (And look another adorable Taichi face!) Question is, is it edible?

Agumon: Sure is!

Taichi: D:

no seriously I love Taichi being freaked out by his own partner. Lol. It’s one of the best things about Taichi & Agumon. I ate it up in Tri lol

So, I expected Yamato to be the downer of the group here along with Jou, but he’s just concerned that the fruit is too small for everyone to share. Aw what a mom.

It’s also pretty funny that, when a floating island appears and a mysterious fruit falls down with enough strength to leave a crater in the ground, the kids’ reaction isn’t to wonder about what’s going on, but to try to figure out how to eat it lol.

At this point they’re just so used to floating islands that it’s lost all novelty. They’re like, “oh, floating island, been there done that”

Agumon comes up with the obvious solution and Taichi and Sora fly up to the island together to get more fruit. Why only two of them go... is convenience for the episode xD

But it does lead to some good Sora moments and Taichi/Sora friendship. First, Sora is absolutely adorable. Even Agumon comments that she seems in a really good mood and Taichi can tell it’s because of how much she loves playing soccer. The way Sora talks to him, all fast and excited, is just so cute. You can tell she really loves soccer, especially with Taichi.

This episode kinda made me ship Taiora ;_; it was honestly more Taiora than any one episode in the 99 show...

Meanwhile, another giant object starts falling off the island towards the rest of the kids, and Palmon makes THE WEIRDEST SOUND. Like SO WEIRD. I think Yamada Kinoko passed out and made this noise while recording or something bahahahaha

Anyway it’s a refrigerator. Now appliances are falling out of the sky. I don’t understand why it makes the same size crater as the fruit despite being way heavier.

OMG baby Taichi’s hairrrrrrr I cannot

Soon they come across Flymon (why do Sora episodes always involved bugs...? This is the third time lol) who’s abducted a very helpless looking Digimon. They decide to help. Agumon gears up his Baby Flame but is stopped by Sora, who realizes that if they attack they might hurt the victim as well. I assume this is meant to tell us that, while Taichi’s brave and a strategist, another pair of eyes from someone like Sora whose first priority is others’ welfare is a big help.

... except that Sora’s plan for “tackle them” doesn’t seem to me that much better xD It still results in the poor abducted Digimon falling through the sky to her doom... I guess it’s better than falling out of the sky and alsobeing on fire tho

They catch the Digimon, who is Pomumon and just as pathetic as he looks. Meanwhile they’re being attacked by... Tropaliamon? Tropicanamon? lol I already forgot, a big bird with the ability to MELT ENTIRE FORESTS.

Pomumon explains that Evil Tropical Bird-mon and his Flymon invaded the island and started turning all the Pomumon into fruit. When the fruit ripen, they eat them. Pomumon is now the only Pomumon who hasn’t been fruit-ified.

Agumon: ... so... does this make me a cannibal?

Taichi: Maybe now you’ll be mindful of what you eat!

Okay and now the most AMAZING interaction ever, between Yamato and Mimi, and seriously it is a TRAVESTY that they don’t interact directly in the 99 series, I mean LOOK AT THE GOLD WE GET HERE,

Mimi says she hopes there’s fruit or juice in the fridge. Yamato makes an expression like someone just insulted his mother.

They then proceed to argue over what constitutes “juice” and Yamato’s all fired up about it and Mimi’s just like “lol not listening”

IT IS HILARIOUS. Quality content. Mimato shippers eat your heart out

And... this is all they do for the rest of the episode. bahaha. I DON’T EVEN CARE. I love the idea that they fought over this the WHOLE time and never even opened the fridge. The others just had to listen in baffled astonishment xD

Taichi and Sora fight Evil Tropical Bird-mon to save the Pomumon, but Taichi and MetalGreymon get knocked into the pitcher plant that turns Digimon into fruit.

Metla Greymon doesn’t quite fit into the fruit, his horns are really stretching it out lol.

and asdfghjkkl;’‘ TAICHI GETS TURNED INTO A FRUIT TOO, HE’S A DEFORMED BLUEBERRY, HIS GOGGLES THO, LMFAO

i really shouldn’t be as amused as I am

now... I have to say it - the one thing here is, the show has already played its trump cards like Omegamon and WarGreymon. I am sure they have more in store before the end, but the point is, it’s hard to believe Taichi is struggling against Digimon who seem like they shouldn’t have a chance against him. It’s like, you can defeat DoneDevimon, but not Evil-Tropical-Birdmon? You can escape the influence of Millenniumon’s miasma, but not a pitcher plant?? lol

Sora gets ANGRY when Taichi becomes Taichi-fruit. Her Crest of Love glows and brings out Garudamon. Taiora fans around the world screamed.

One way or another, this leaves Sora on her own (yay). And she is a busy girl. She wants to save Taichi first, but Pomumon also needs her help, and Garudamon needs her support while fighting the enemy.

Pomumon: don’t worry about me! I can fly on my own! *fails miserably*

Sora’s face says “I just don’t understand this world,” lol

They are then attacked by Flymon, and Pomumon still pretty much expects Sora to protect him. Sora’s like, “Fine, I’ll deal with Flymon, but you have to go save your friends,” and when Pomumon asks how, she just says “GOOD LUCK” and tosses him away, which honestly made me laugh out loud, you go girl

she’s like QUIT BEING SO USELESS DO SOMETHING ON YOUR OWN and just chucks him

buhahahaha

Pomumon, despite being useless, is able to free one of his comrades. After a brief discussion about how useless they are, they go to save the others.

I believe I can fly

I believe I can touch the sky

think about it every night and day

spread my wings and fly away

Sora thinks back to yet another soccer game where another student did a foul, I guess, on Taichi, and knocks him to the ground. Seeing Sora get so angry and protective of Taichi - omg, it totally squeezes my heat, gah. And it also makes her look so cool. Not just the girl in the back who comforts you when you fall down - also the one who runs up and tells the bully to back off!

that hair tho

Even though he’d been hurt, Taichi encouraged Sora not to quit playing and to win the game. In present time, Sora recalls that instance and uses it to push herself onward:

At this point, I could’ve gotten annoyed: as much as I loved the Taiora friendship and seeing their teamwork, it’s Sora’s episode, and I didn’t want her to succeed because of “what I learned from Taichi.” However, it’s very similar to Koushirou’s episode, where it was the faith Taichi had in him that gave Koushirou the confidence to find the courage he already had. It’s similar for Sora. Plus, since she’s got the Crest of Love, it makes perfect sense that love for her friend would be a motivating factor here.

On top of that - the things Sora thinks about Taichi are then echoed by Garudamon, only about Sora. Sora won’t give up because Taichi never does - and Garudamon won’t give up because Sora never does. You can see the chain reaction: friends building each other up through their support and faith in each other. Very sweet.

buhahahahahaha the freaking taichi blueberry

I really expected Taichi would be a little more wigged out about having been TURNED INTO A FRUIT,  but once he’s free he’s like “Thanks, now let’s get back to the fight!” lol

to be fair there were only a couple minutes left in the episode, no time for freak outs i suppose

They save MetalGreymon who goes to back up Garudamon, but then Sora comes up with a plan.

Of course, it’s related to soccer.

Obligatory Cool Girl Soccer Star Sora shot

They kick the ball to lead the Pomumon’s seed? attack directly into Evil Tropical Bird-mon’s mouth. This... seems to be our kids’ favorite play this season, lmao

While choking on seeds, Garudamon and MetalGreymon launch their attacks and finally defeat him. Yaaaay goodbye weirdass fruit transmogrifying cannibal Digimon bird thing

Taichi tells Sora she’s awesome T______T It’s soooooooo sweet. My Taiora heart leapt

and my Taishiro heart whispered “he said カッコよかった to her but saves すごい for Koushirou <3 “ lol

Soooooo cute. MVP

Garudamon agrees that Sora is awesome

Ending card

So... the honest truth is yeah, this episode wasn’t necessary for the plot at all, and it would have been nice if it had been. But not all of the others’ center episodes were plot-related either. The important thing was for it to be wholly Sora’s episode and give her some Crest-related development. It did both those things.

I really would have liked a conundrum for Sora to fix, but I think the problem there is, since before now she wasn’t getting attention at all, they hadn’t set much of a foundation for that conundrum. The first time around, it was “oh, Sora is kind, so she wants to help anyone she sees” and there was a bit of personality clash with Yamato. Though it was small, it was a good bit of development and useful for two characters. It also led to Yamato and Sora’s friendship strengthening. With Taichi and Sora, we’ve been told they’re friends and teammates, but have not seen many strong examples of that. And, if there’s a fight between them, it could easily turn into a Taichi episode... that’s what I think anyway. So I guess the focus point for this episode was showing how Sora’s deep love for her friends strengthens her already, and maybe there’ll be more complex problems in the future, perhaps when she gets her next evolution... We’ll see.

Anyway. Good episode. So glad to see this show seems to be pretty solidly back on the rails. We only have like 20 episodes left though, seems like a lot but it’ll go fast.

That’s why I’m a bit surprised to see that next week looks like another not really plot-related episode:

Takeru and Yamato are going to a theme park. There’s no context for why they’re not with the others, but my guess is Takeru wanted to go and Yamato took him... easy as that xD I guess we’ll see, but I really hope this doesn’t mean the team is splitting up again.

However, we really do need quality time with Yamato and Takeru as well, so I’m all for this. It’s like the show really has got some self-awareness about how lax it’s been developing characters and relationships thus far and is now cranking it HARD to fit everything in we’ve been missing. Good.

[horansqueen]

It Feels Like Christmas - Part 3

It feels like Christmas Just like Christmas It feels like Christmas with you...

Click Here if you want to be on the update list

MIMI

I woke up in Niall's arms and I couldn't pretend it didn't feel good. He kept me warm and I felt safe in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. How could someone I had just met make me feel so good was beyond me but I kept my eyes closed and moved closer to him slowly, trying not to wake him up. He groaned low and his arm tightened around me, pulling me against him.

My eyes fluttered open and I held my breath when I realized how close he was. I licked my lips and slowly brought my hand to his cheek, running my fingertips lightly again his stubble. I felt a sudden wave of affection for him and for all he did and said to me the night before. He could have left. In fact, I believe that most men would have left after I said I wouldn't sleep with him... the few who would have stayed would have probably hoped to make me change my mind. It's not that I was very popular or that men would tend to be interested in me, but it was still happening to me at that exact moment, and this kind of fairytale was not something I really thought was possible. In fact, I was pretty sure it would end as fast as it started, and that's why I was enjoying every second of it.

Niall was pretty. In fact, he was even prettier from up-close, and I started nibbling on my bottom lip as I looked at him. It was a shame his eyes were closed because I was in love with every damn shades of blue I had seen them turn, but I couldn't deny how my stomach twisted at the proximity of our bodies and the peaceful look of his face. It was ridiculous. No one I dated had ever made me feel like that, let alone a stranger, and I bit my lip harder, telling myself it was probably all the alcohol I had swallowed only a few hours ago.

I suddenly felt intensely stupid and embarrassed. Did I really spill all these facts and stories about my life to Niall, the night before? The things I could say when I was intoxicated or even just slightly tipsy was pathetic and I grimaced, letting out a low groan. He would probably wake up and rush out to be as far away from me as possible. So Mimi Armstrong had a moment of weakness in front of a complete stranger. that could happen to anyone, right?

I heard him groan too and he moved slightly. I held my breath as he opened his eyes and as soon as they met mine, his lips curled. Could I be wrong? Was it possible that a man like him didn't just want to run away from me and never look back?

"Good mornin' Mimi Armstrong." he whispered, making me press my lips together.

"Good morning, Niall Horan."

I brought my hand back, realizing my fingertips were still slightly touching his cheeks, and he smiled more. I cleared my throat and looked away until I heard his voice again.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't the best position to sleep in."

"Oh, no, actually, I slept well."

"Good." he replied just in time before we both heard his phone ring. He seemed to hesitated but he finally sat up and checked it up. I sat up too as he seemed to search for something on his phone and when he looked up at me, he smiled again.

"My flight is in an hour, I should hurry."

He got up and searched for his wallet before grabbing his coat and his hat. I stared at him, barely moving or even blinking, and when he put his scarf around his neck, I licked my lips.

"I'm sorry for rambling last night." I quickly said, straightening my back.

His gaze met mine again and he smiled. "No need to apologize, It was the best night I had in a very long time."

For a second, I started doubting everything. Did something happen between us and I couldn't remember? No. It was impossible. I was drunk, but I remembered everything, even if there are some embarrassing things I would love to forget.

"Really?" I asked suspiciously, frowning a bit.

"Yea!" he chuckled. "I thought I'd be stuck once again at the airport, alone and bored, and I ended up spending the night with the most interesting girl I've ever met. I'd call that a win."

"We... we didn't... you know.."

"Oh no! Don't worry we didn't... we just talked."

And cuddled. And slept. But I didn't mention it. I felt my cheeks burn a bit and noticed the left corner of his lips was raised up in a tiny but amused smile. It's only when he pushed his hands in his pockets that I quickly got up and walked up closer to him, but still stayed out of reach.

"Thank you, Niall, for that night.. whatever it was."

"Hey, thanks to you." he just replied before raising his eyebrows. "Come on, grab your stuff."

I raised my eyebrows and when he noticed my questioning look, he did the same.

"Why?"

"We're gonna share a cab to the airport."

My surprised expression turned into a fond one and without thinking, I rushed around and grabbed all my stuff. We remained silent in the taxi but I kept glancing at him. He was looking by the window at the snow falling and I tried to memorize the way he looked and the night we had.

The airport was crowded, most planes were about to take off now that it was safe, and we stood in the middle of the place, facing each other, as everyone around us ran and talked loud. We remained static in the whole airport frenzy and I sent him a smile as I felt my heart twist in my chest.

"Well, it was nice meeting you." I just told, nodding a bit with a smile.

"I was thinking, maybe we could trade phone numbers." he proposed, making my heart skip a beat and my lips part.

"Uhm, no, it's better we don't." I replied after a few seconds, making him frown. I sighed low and my shoulders fell as I tilted my head. "Trust me, Niall. You don't want someone like me in your life. But thank you. For everything."

Enumerating everything I was thankful for would be embarrassing and I reached for his upper arm, squeezing it slightly. "Maybe we'll cross path again, who knows. It's a small world, I heard."

I thought about how special he made me feel the night before and about how I felt when I woke up and he was holding me. I could keep in touch with him, but what for? To end up being disappointed, or disappointing him? Perhaps it was better to end this whole fairytale before it would turn into a nightmare.

I sent him a small smile and turned around, but just as I was about to leave, I heard him say my name. It was low but it did something to me and when I turned around, I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close to him. He smelled good despite the fact that he hadn't showered and I just hoped I didn't smell too bad. Instead to let me go after a few seconds, his grip tightened around me and he leaned his cheek on top of my head, his arms around my neck. Slowly, I hugged him back, my palms pressed on his back and my nails digging in his coat. It was ridiculous to be so attached to someone I didn't even know.

----

"Darling you're finally home!"

My mom pulled me into a hug and I laughed, hugging her back right after letting my bags fall on the wood floor. It should feel good to be back but I felt nervous for a reason I ignored and when my dad walked down the stairs, I tried to push that feeling away.

"My Mimi!"

"Hey dad." I let out in a low tone, tilting my head as he took me in his arms too, holding me close against him. "What were you doing?"

"Preparing your room. Your mom's back hurts and I wanted to help her." he explained, making me smile a bit.

They had always been like that, they took care of each other, and that brought my standards of a relationship very high. I didn't think it was a bad thing, though. Better be alone than in bad company, right?

I took my boots and coat off and we walked to the kitchen as they brought food and poured a few glasses of wine. I looked at them, the two persons the closest to real parents I ever had, and I felt lucky despite everything that had happened to me in my childhood. I could have ended in a bad family but here I was, and I still meant what I had told Niall the night before : I didn't turn out so bad for someone who had 8 different families all in all.

"Sweetheart, you must be exhausted." my dad said, handing me a glass. "Do you want to nap before dinner?"

I smiled but shook my head, taking a sip of wine. It was a miracle that my system would even allow me to drink anything that was not water.

"No but I'd love a shower." I chuckled. "I didn't have time to take one at the hotel."

"Of course, it's your home, do as you please!"

I brought my stuff upstairs and sat on my bed, looking around what used to be my bedroom. It was more simple now, less decorated and much more neutral, but it smelled exactly like I remembered. I opened my bag and searched for clean clothes in it as Niall's face appeared suddenly in my mind. It made me realize that I regretted not asking him for his phone number. I knew nothing good would probably have came out of this and I was aware that it was better this way, but there was something special about Niall, something I felt like I wouldn't see in anyone else ever again. I looked at my bag again, feeling something stir in my stomach but even if I really wanted something magic to happen, I knew it wouldn't. Niall hadn't left a message for me in my bag, he didn't drop something of his in my stuff either. Reality was that I met an incredible guy that made me feel special for a few hours and now he was gone. Wasn't that something most girls go through in their life? Except when they get pregnant and the guy suddenly disappears. Or when she realizes after a few years that the man she thought was perfect was actually cheating on her with his secretary. Or simply that he was an asshole that didn't deserve her. These stories always ended the same way, didn't they?

"It's better this way, Mimi." I whispered to myself.

Even if I wanted to find him again, it was barely possible. I didn't know where he lived or who he really was. I didn't know much about him and it was creepy to even think about trying to find him. Being a stalker was clearly not a skill or a will I had. Still, I couldn't lie and say that I didn't regret not giving him my phone number.

"Mea Culpa. Mea Maxima Culpa." I simply breathed out before getting up and reaching the bathroom.

After all, I couldn't blame anyone else but me, and even if I kept repeating to myself that it was better this way and that he'd probably end up betraying me anyway, I still had this tiny part of me that was still naïve and believed in real love. I also knew no one would ever really love me that way, and even if it had been years since I realized that, I still was not totally okay with it. There was always this minuscule part of me that wanted to grow... that very very small part of me that still had hope. But I quickly swallowed it and pushed away the image of Niall in my mind. That was not worth being hurt. Nothing was.

[simonaj1804]

Oyasumi Punpun

I think this manga is one of the best exaamples of something which you shouldn’t judge by it’s literal cover. Seeing picture at the front I would’ve thought that it’s some story about some young girl and a weird penguin or bird thing. In regular manga, they often try to create likeable characters, plot that while  it may have many sad parts manages to rebound and go up at some points, and/or very unrealistic characters or settings. Oyasumi Punpun is basically opposite of all of that. 

Despite of it having comedy in the beginning (which was black humor anyway), Oyasumi Punpun os possibly one of the most depressing and realistic things I have ever come across. It is the “coming of age” story of a boy named Punyama Punpun, and follows him all the way from elementary school until around his early 20′s. What makes tis manga so special is the heavy psychological aspects surrounding Punpun and everyone else throughout the story. One of the main psychological aspects of the story has to do with Punpun’s character design. He, as well as his family, starat off looking like kind of 2 dimensional birds with long legs. His  design changes a lot later on to reflect how he is feeling on the inside, but the important thing is to remember is that he looks just slike a normal human being to everyone else in the manga and that he does not actually look like a “bird-thing” to them.

The story begins with Punpun in elementary school. The girl he had crush on has just transferred out of his school but shortly afterward a new girl named Tanaka Aiko transfers into his school. It’s love at first sight for Punpun. He starts  to slowly grow closer to Aiko while at the same time hanging out with friends and just being a normal boy who is entering puberty. Among his group of friends there are Shuntarou Harumi, a nice boy who wears glasses; Seki Masumi, a deliquent boy with family problems; Shimizu Koh, a strange boy who can see the “god of poop” and who has been friends with Seki since childhood. The group of about 6 boys in total is just average group of male friends who enjoy finding porn magazines, doing tests of courage, and spending their time just trying to enjoy themselves. Going further into the story would cause spoilers and since the story is quite long and detailed it would be for a long while. There’s just so many things that Asano Inio goes into amazing detail about in this dark and depressing story that explaining any more would ruin some part of it. The story covers a lot of time as I already mentioned and Punpun’s elementary school life is only a small, yet very crucial part of the entire plot.

Moving to the art, it’s simply amazing. The idea of making Punpun look different to the reader than to everyone else is great way to show his true emotions in a way that showing him as he realy looks could not. As for the other character designs they are all very well drawn, especially his family who also resemble 2D birds with long legs. The peoiple who look like normal humans are usually drawn normally but they can look ugly at times or beautiful at times when author wants to make them look similiar to how they are feeling. The manga is very mature and occasionally contains nudity, but it is never used as fanservice and is only used to increase darkness of situations and to expand on the imperfections of characters.

Characters themselves are possibly most interesting part of the manga. As I mentioned at the begfinning, these characters are not meant to all be likeable. In fact, none of them are my own favourite characters despite this being one of my favourite manga. That shouldn’t be the point though since they are not meant to be realistic. I would never consider myself or any of the people in my life one of my favourite characters if they were in an anime or manga. Real humans are not perfect, do not alwaays have a happy ending in life, and are usually just some unnoticable background character that you pass by once or twice during your life but leave no impact on you at all.

Punpun is an average Japanese person aside from the slightly inflated psychological issues at times. As a child his uncle taight him that id he said certain pharse, God would appear to him and help him in his time of need. Into depicts God like a bad imaginary friend who looks like a tanned guy with an afro and usually gives Punpun poor advice that is kind of like a “worst case scenario to do” rather than actual help. His journey to becoming an adult is a difficult one filled with family issues, romantic problems, sex, alcohol, depression, indifferent jobs, etc. The story is not a happy story at all, and Punpun never even goes one chapter without being sadm questioning himself, or making a bad decision at some point. He has many flaws and as he grows up, he starts to notice more and more of them. He is the kind of person who is always looking back into the past and has a hard time looking towards the future. With his kind of depressing life looking at his past is not the most enjoyable thing to do. He has a lot of regrets and things he wishes he could do differently if given the chance. As the story progresses further he falls more and more away from how he used to be as a cheerful child who dreamed of becoming a scientist in space. 

I wanted to involve this manga into my research as it’s one of the most realistic things I have read  so far considering that it’s a Japanese comic (manga). It puts the reader through a lot of pain especially if they relate to one of the characters and can cause depression episodes. For a book it makes people feel a lot and it I really like how we majority of time see everything from Punpun’s perspective and we see how he feels about things and how he thinks. It gives the reader a deep understanding what people actually go through or how they might feel in certain situations and how they will behave. Just like SUN Project from Mimi N, it something similiar that I would call like behind the scenes of real life. Showing the unlikeable aspects of life and emotions that people usually don’t speak up about because of how they might seem.

[kats-baku1999]

Play with Fire

Confrontation, Number One

Warnings: This chapter gets a little bit smutty at the end.. So enjoy you filthy animals.

Asami practically sprinted to the door when she heard another knock. She felt entirely too much guilt after Keigo left the way he did. Mostly because she was thinking of this stranger, as handsome, while neglecting her boyfriends attempts at being intimate. That had to be some form of cheating right? So all she needed to do was swing open this door and then she could just jump into his arms and....

“Well doll face, you seem excited to see me,” The strange man smirked at her, leaning down to her height. She was so shocked she didn’t even notice him slipping pass her into her apartment. He walked around the living room before pausing in front of a framed picture. It was surrounded by a few memorial items, like a piece of fabric, and a small braided bracelet.

“What are you doing here?”

“How many copies of this photo do you have, this one is in your office at that damn school too,” Dabi smirked, picking it up. Asami quickly grabbed the photo out of his hand.

“You’ve been in my office?!” Asami hissed, overly annoyed with this man, “How did you even get in there?!”

“Who said I was the one that got in, you put a lot of trust in people, but you’ve always been that way haven’t you?” Dabi walked over to her couch and sat down, “I mean like right now, a man who threatened and burned your arm is sitting on your couch, and you aren’t calling the police? Or your pro hero boyfriend?”

“Maybe because I have a few questions for you, that have been bugging me for the last few days,” Asami glared at him, walking over to turn on the lamp, so there was more than the tv illuminating his face. Teal eyes followed her every move, and a smug look sat on his face the whole time.

“Does that bird boy of yours know I’ve been on your mind?” Dabi sounded overly proud of himself, “Is that why he looked so defeated leaving? Like a man who couldn’t get some?”

“I’m sure you’re very familiar with that look, you asshole,” Asami snapped again, and only earned an amused look from him. Before he stood up and walked towards her. Backing h her into the wall, one hand coming up next to her head. She could smell the scent of something burning, and looked to see him burning a mark on the wall.

“Rethink your words pretty girl, I could show you why I don’t typically hear the word no,” Dabi leaned down close to Asami, and she felt a little guilty that she was shocked he didn’t smell burnt. There was a faint scent of cologne, barely there but there enough.

“Are you done threatening me, and ready to answer my questions,” Asami met his eye, doing her best to ignore the nervous feeling that was in her stomach. Their faces were barely inches apart. His breath smelled of cigarettes, and a bit of mint.

“You know I have a few questions for you too, so why don’t we make it a game, for every three questions you answer you can ask me one,” Dabi grinned, his eyes going over her face. He was practically screaming with amusement at how nervous her violet eyes showed she truly was. She put on a good front of being confident though.

“How is that even remotely fair?” Asami glared at him, “I’ll make you a deal, we each get three questions,”

“Okay, doll, I’ll play your game,” Dabi shrugged, removing his hand from its spot against the wall, “With some limits, like no asking about tragic back stories,”

“You know, you avoiding your backstory really just answers all of my questions already,” Asami walked past him and bumped her shoulder against him. Dabi fought back the urge to slam her against the wall again.

“Well, then why don’t I start, why keep up so many memorials of a boy who’s dead?” Dabi flicked the picture frame, staring at someone he once knew too.

“Because he is the reason I’m doing all of this, so what is your name?” Asami watched him lose his train of thought while staring at the picture.

“Dabi,” He answered simply, and then turned back towards her.

“Your real name,” Asami warned, and Dabi let out a noise of disapproval.

“You don’t get two questions inna row doll,” Dabi smirked at her, “What do you mean by doing all of this?”

“Disappointing my parents, becoming a hero, aiming to beat Endeavor,” Asami explained in the mostly simple way she possibly could, “I didn’t want to be a hero before, but I think you already knew that,”

“Ask your next question, it’s not like I have all night,” Dabi urged her on, he knew she was figuring it out. He knew that the beautiful brain of hers was piecing it together. That’s exactly what he wanted though... Exactly what he needed.

“Why are you so fixated on me?” Asami asked, both of them finally looking at one another again. Dabi felt something flicker inside of him at how soft her voice sounded when she asked this question.

“You already know the answer to that don’t you?” Dabi sighed, feeling tired of his own game, “Oh come on Mimi, you used to be a lot smarter about my games,”

“And you used to have white hair,” Asami’s throat tightened up, “And you were shorter than me back then,”

“Growth spurts can be a beautiful thing doll,” Dabi chuckled to himself, “I get one more question, why did I mean that much to you?”

“Because I loved you,” Asami squeezed her eyes shut, still fighting back the tears, “Because you’re my best friend,”

“Ask your final question,” Dabi walked towards her, using the pad of his finger to gently catch one of the stray tears.

“Is it really you Touya?” Asami’s voice finally broke, tears falling down her cheeks profusely.

“That breaks the rules doll, but,” Dabi leaned down towards her face, gently placing both of his hands against it, “Yeah Asami, it’s me,”

Asami let her eyes broke open and took in his entire appearance. He was almost unrecognizable, but those eyes... Teal eyes that were so empty the other night, but right now.. They were brighter again. Dabi felt himself soften slightly at the look of sadness, but still happiness that was all over her face. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling herself into him. He stood frozen for a second, but inevitably wrapped his arms back around her waist. Taking in the sweet scent coming from her hair, and the sounds of her choked up sobs.

“Now come on Mimi, I never struck you as some big cry baby,” Dabi whispered against the girl, who shockingly pulled back from him, and then pulled him down to her. His eyes scanned over his face, just taking everything in. Trying to picture Touya’s face on his. Trying to imagine that stupid smug grin, without his burns and scars.

“You’re alive,” Asami whispered, her hands resting on the back of his head. Dabi looked at her, not noticing he was taking in the moment. Trying his best to memorize how her eyes looked staring at him with this much adoration. This much excitement.

“I’m alive, and I’m finally back with you,”

Both of them stood still for what felt like forever. Neither of them fully understanding what was going through the others head. So many emotions went through Asami’s head, but she pushed them all aside to focus on just one. Dabi knew what his plan was, and he needed to stick with it. This was all so he could make sure to find out where the training camp was. Yet he still couldn’t help but pay attention to how much his childhood crush had grown up.

“Would it be a total fucking cliche if I kissed you right now?” Dabi whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. Asami’s breath hitched in her throat, but she couldn’t bring herself to say no. She should definitely say no.

She didn’t say no.

Instead she got onto her tiptoes, and pulled his face into hers. Dabi let out a small groan at the feeling of her body pushing into his as she fully closed the gap in between them. The kiss felt foreign to both of them, Dabi not used to someone being so gentle with him, and Asami not used to the rough feeling of his lips. His hands found their way to her hips, and guided her back into the wall.

Once her back hit against the wall, something within both of them broke. The almost gentle moment seemed to change pace instantly. Dabi’s hand snuck underneath her shirt, resting against her bare skin on her hips. Asami shuttered at the feeling of his warm hand against her skin, causing her body to grind against his. Another groan escaped his mouth and he broke away for a second, grinning down at her.

He watched her face as his hands traveled up her stomach. Wasting no time to land on her left breast, relishing in the moment as her head leaned back into the wall, small whimpers escaping her mouth. His mouth attached itself to her neck, kissing and nipping at every inch of her skin. Before finally finding the spot that made her let out the sweetest sound he swore he ever heard.

He wanted to hear more of that.

His hand traveled down her stomach again. Playing with the waistband of her sweatpants, before finally pushing his way through it. His fingers gently danced over the soft cotton of her underwear. Smirking when he felt a soaked through spot, and pressed up against it. Again that sweet sound left her lips, and he found himself chasing it. Rubbing against the spot at a quick pace, kissing into her neck again.

“More, please,” Asami barely knew what she was thinking when she spoke the words, ecstasy and adrenaline filling her head. Nothing about this was right, or made any sense. It was all like she was in her own quirk.

“Go to the couch doll,” Dabi growled, watching as she went to the couch, “Lay down, and get rid of the sweatpants,”

Asami quickly removed the sweatpants, revealing a pair of red underwear. They were nothing fancy, just a pair of cotton one. Still though, seeing her in red lit something inside of him. He made his way over to her, climbing down to start kissing her again. The bulge in his pants rubbing against her core, and there came the beautiful sound yet again.

“You see what you’re doing to me doll?” Dabi groaned, “This was all I could think about anytime I watched you walk down the street in that tight ass costume,”

“Pervert,” Asami teased, earning a glare from Dabi, “But, wait wait wait,”

Dabi paused his actions, his hands resting against her thighs. Both of their chests were moving up and down with their rapid breathing. Asami was finally coming back to her senses, and Dabi knew that. This moment of fun was going to come to an end, and he knew that.

“This is too much too fast, and I have Keigo,” Asami sighed, throwing her head back against the arm of the couch. Dabi looked down at her, smirking a little bit.

“You really want me to stop?” Dabi trailed his hands up, and Asami was quick to grab his wrist. She gave him a warning look, and he held his hands up in defense.

“Touya, if you’ve been alive all of this time, why would you not come to me?” Asami quietly asked, as she pulled her sweatpants back onto her body. Dabi was lounged back against the couch, his eyes fixating on the picture of Asami and that damn bird hero.

“A story for another day, I am going to head out but I’ll be in touch,” Dabi stood up, and Asami sat in disbelief.

“Wait, no you have got to be kidding me?!” Asami yelled, “I’ve spent these past years thinking you were dead, turns out you’re not, you come here and try to hook up with me, and then you just leave?”

“I told you that all I could think about was that costume, besides you should probably focus on your boyfriend doll face, he seemed a little distraught earlier,” Dabi chuckled, putting his hand on the doorknob again.

“Because all I could think about was you!” Asami yelled, and he froze one last time. Before opening the door and walking out without a word.

A sob came out of Asami’s mouth, that echoed throughout the entire apartment. Everything that just happened made no sense to her. There was no reasonable explanation for what had happened between the two of them. Even the fact that he was alive just made no sense to him.

On the other side of the door, Dabi listened for a second before starting to walk away. He pulled out his phone to let the League know the plan worked, and that person’s quirk was successful. A lust quirk was all it took for her to break down for him, and now he was inside her head. That was part one of the plan of infiltrating that damn school.

[kamisama-spoops]

Kamisama kiss oc (This girl literally only exists because I was wishing that Nanami had met a nice Yokai at her school 🙂 so I made one myself 💅 I also made another one but he'll show up later)

Name: Ayumi

Nicknames: Mimi-chan, Ayu-chan

Species: Dragon yokai, or Tatsu/ Water kami (all three of the names basically mean the same thing in this context)

Pronouns: She don't really understand the concept of gender as a whole since she is really out of touch with both the yokai and human world and it really just... doesn't make sense to her so she uses any pronouns but usually just she/ her because that's what everyone just refers to her as a default

Sexuality: Pansexual. Again with the lack of understanding with why people are so fixated on sexualities so she's kind of just vibing

Birthday: July 30th

Height: 5'8

Likes: Smooth/ soft textures, rough/ ridged textures, dancing, styling hair, learning, socialising, humans

Dislikes: Grating noises like aluminium scraping against aluminium, tomatoes, constant/ repetitive noises, being bored and having nothing to do

Favourite food: Ichigo daifuku

Hated food: Anything with tomatoes in it

Specialities: Building and foreign languages

Weaknesses: Writing and paying attention

Hobbies: Travelling, learning new languages, swimming and sculpting

Appearance: She is very often parading as a human so her horns are usually hidden but she is a dragon yokai, or Tatsu/ water kami, and has the usual horns and pointed ears that you'd expect along with markings that appear by the outside corners of her eyes when she isn't in her human form, looking around 18 years old. Her hair is purple, reaching down to about her knees, usually kept up in a ponytail so it's out of the way and has longer bangs which partially cover her right eye. She has a slightly darker skin and she has blue-green eyes. She usually wears a dark and light blue kimono with gold accents when not at school and is usually wearing white, shoulder length gloves to cover up old scars on her hand

Personality: She's really adventurous, constantly going off for months at a time to travel and doesn't like being in one place for longer than a year but she always ends up coming back to Japan. She loves learning which is why she ends up going into schools to transfer there which is why she's in Japan and going to school with Nanami. She loves trying new things but hates that which is time consuming like cooking because she can't focus on it for too long at a time so the food gets messed up.

She's like the coffee mum friend. She's really caring and sociable and is the kind of person to make you a lunchbox with a little more in it every day and be entirely patient with you no matter what you're doing but is also the kind of person to get up at 3am, running on nothing but chaotic energy and sake and suddenly up and go to Australia without a moment's notice.

Unlike most yokai, she doesn't see humans as lesser beings. Less powerful? Yes. Lesser? No. She loves them and their way of life even if she does disappear from the human world for a few years at a time but she's still more connected to the mortal world than the yokai realm. If she could become a human, she would but for now just observes while trying to guide humans to the right path or help them in general. With her more extroverted personality, she's always doing her best to understands human and human life through interaction and befriending humans

[firstagent]

Review! Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 45: Activate, MetalGarurumon

In this episode, for some reason Gabumon decides he wants to run around a track. For some reason this leads to MetalGarurumon. These reasons will not be given.

If you had asked somebody familiar with the trappings of shounen anime but clueless about Digimon what was going on with this current string, they’d confidently tell you the show’s been waiting for the manga to advance the story farther to know how to proceed with Millenniumon’s inevitable revival. Like Angemon’s return and the random appearances by BlitzGreymon and Ponchomon, getting MetalGarurumon doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes the lack of story progress even more annoying. Now they’re falling so far behind they have to burn major evolutions in perfectly average filler material. Nothing about it is egregiously wrong and any spotlight on Gabumon is welcomed, but don’t leave this with any impression that the show is doing anything but spinning its wheels.

As much as we like seeing Gabumon take a star turn, it’s a version of Gabumon we’re woefully unfamiliar with. We get Gabumon as Yamato’s loyal companion and his playful rivalry with Greymon, but the obsession with running? That’s… new. Maybe that’s the reason Yamato and Garurumon did nothing but run through the plains for multiple days back when plot was happening to Taichi. When an episode is going to feature somebody, it’s best when the logic behind it tracks. Sora’s adventure with the Pomumon and Koshiro’s visit with Gerbemon didn’t need any explanation. Here we arrive at a racetrack and Gabumon is suddenly possessed by Sonic the Hedgehog.

This sudden character attribute we just learned about drives the entire episode. The introduction to Machmon is now more confrontational, which is the only way you’re picking up on his problem. Machmon, and the problem itself, is as fine a character and as fine a dilemma as what we’ve gotten used to in this run, where his willingness to open fire on his opponents is chalked up to his competitive streak rather than a more sinister influence. After demanding a clean rematch, Yamato, Koshiro, and Taichi investigate while the others trip over each other trying to have any presence. With the exception of MetalGarurumon, it’s the same routine as always, and hangs on a main character doing something totally arbitrary.

At least within the confines of this episode, Gabumon’s characterization is enjoyable. We’ve gotten moments here and there where the kids are allowed to be kids, and the essence of all this is giving a Digimon a chance to indulge himself with a run around a racetrack. It’s that preservation of fun that bolsters Gabumon as much as anything, and the suggestion that Machmon isn’t having fun troubles him more than being rammed into and shot at. Yamato is very much the supporting player here, following Gabumon’s lead with an admirable devotion and getting into enough trouble to prompt WereGarurumon to evolve. It’s nice to see it play both ways. With Yamato’s hesitance to provide unnecessary help well behind him, we’re left with a healthy, loyal, and ultimately kind of dull relationship.

Does it justify MetalGarurumon? So far the only thing we have to go off of is WarGreymon’s first appearance. From that, the only criteria are the understanding of a tight bond, and the need for a little more power. That seems more like a Champion-level prerequisite. The crest factor is present, sure, and Yamato going to bat for Gabumon, who fights to help Machmon, qualifies. In this context, with nothing on the line but a single Digimon having a rough decade, the stakes don’t justify the pomp. It also doesn’t help that the crest attributes haven’t been formally introduced yet. Technically, we have no idea that Taichi represents courage and Yamato represents friendship! Really the only bit of consistency is that new evolutions don’t seem to have much point to them and centering an episode’s conversation about one is foolhardy.

Thing is, beyond that, there isn’t much else to talk about. Other than Yamato, Koshiro is the only one with any real presence in the episode, even taking the random race jobs into consideration. The track and Parasimon’s presence are vaguely referential, but hardly to the point of nostalgia. If they were playing that card, the Grand Prix would be populated by someone other than a brand new Digimon and Parasimon would be going after a train for the third time in franchise history instead of a motorcycle. You can squint and see how elements of this episode could be highly enjoyable. Put them together and it continues to be a mediocre slog.

My Grade: C

Loose Data:

One easy fix for both Gabumon’s sudden enthusiasm for racing and everyone else’s lack of relevance is for all of them to get caught up in the excitement of a top racing facility and wanting to do a lap. It’s actually a little weird that Agumon and Patamon at least aren’t interested in giving it a go.

Why is anyone surprised that the race format is anything goes? The Grand Prix did exist in-universe, and even out of universe the short and the game don’t lend themselves to pure tests of speed and maneuvering. Hell, you can get away with half this stuff in NASCAR!

That upside-down fire-attack-as-thrust maneuver to save Machmon from the wall? Somebody in the writer’s room thought of that in their sleep and were dying to work that into an episode.

Yamato, Koshiro, and Taichi say something menacing about the big turn at the end being the key to unraveling the mystery. Other than its obligatory place for the dramatic finish, it has nothing to do with unraveling the mystery.

If the Lilimon cheerleader outfits on the girls weren’t enough of a hint that they were desperate to find something for the other characters to chew on, putting one on Takeru clinched it. Remember that someone in the cast had to have suggested it, someone had to make Takeru wear that, and someone had to prevent Yamato from coming to his brother’s rescue. That someone is obviously Mimi.

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

[uniarycode]

Takari Week, Day 1 - Confession

Takeru has spent weeks trying to confess to Hikari but somehow he can never actually get it out.  Hikari has a different interpretation on how they’ve been spending their time.  Done as part of @takariweek 2020

Today was the day.  Today everything would change for better or for worse.  Today marked the first sentence of a new chapter of his life.  Today was the day he was going to confess to Hikari.

Unlike all those other sentences he had to re-write.

This was not the first day this month Takeru had planned to confess.  However, he was a romantic at heart, and no matter how much resolve he had beforehand somehow the moment never felt right.  He would always be able to tell their grandkids about how they met, but he wanted to be proud or the story of how he first asked her out.  And none of the opportunities so far fit his taste.

It was either that or he was afraid.  

Even if his confession was successful, it would still mean a fundamental change would occur in his and Hikari’s relationship.  And Takeru had a mixed relationship with change. Change meant the loss of his father and brother.  Change meant the introduction of a strange world filled with monsters.  Even the first time Patamon had changed into a new form had led to one of the most traumatic events in his life.

But change also led him to meet Patamon in the first place, something he wouldn’t trade for all the riches in the world.  Change meant moving to the same school as Hikari, and meeting Miyako, Iori, Daisuke and Ken.  Change meant that one day society might accept Digimon as a whole.

And whether he liked it or not, change was coming.

It was still surreal to him; his brother and Taichi had always seemed so close.  They had never been part of the same cliques, and they spent almost as much time fighting as hanging out.  But their friendship always eclipsed everything else, social standings, heated disputes, none of it mattered; they were best friends, through and through.

Then college happened. Now the legendary duo’s primary means of communication was via their siblings.  Hikari would learn some new fact of her brother’s life, tell Takeru during the course of casual conversation, and Takeru would update his brother of the going-ons later that week.

It wasn’t just them.  Even Mimi, who had an incessant talent for attaching herself onto someone and refusing to let them go, seemed much further from the rest of the chosen then she’d even been while she lived in America.

Takeru knew their bond was strong, that what the eight of them had done could not be forgotten or replaced.  But even if distance could not destroy the bridge holding them together, it could certainly increase the hassle of travelling back and forth.

The last thing Takeru wanted was for that distance to appear between himself and Hikari.  This was their final year in highschool, if he didn’t at least try now he might not ever get the opportunity again.  He needed to try, despite the inherent risks.

Besides, Hikari had rejected Daisuke dozens of times, and they were still friends, right?

Gathering his courage, Takeru had asked Hikari if they could have a day to themselves, ‘just the two of them’.  He’d suggested Wednesday, when neither club duties nor pressing assignments devoured too significant portions of their time.

Ever the romantic, he had it all planned out: First, karaoke.  A good, private way to judge the mood, and get Hikari to let her hair down.  Next, they had tickets to a movie, the new Disney flick that Hikari had been dying to see but never gotten around to (and without someone pressing, likely would not until it became available on dvd.) Finally, a romantic stroll on the boardwalk at sunset.

The boardwalk overlooking the bay.

The bay where they fought Ordienmon.

The bay where they’d been forced to kill one of their friends.

It was only after beginning his long-rehearsed spiel that Takeru had this epiphany, and, fearful that his date may have been quicker on the uptake than himself, he scrambled for a plan B.  

Salvation came in the form of a nearby cat café, he knew as soon as he suggested it that Hikari would lose herself in the felines, paying more attention to the four-legged critters than she did to him, but it was worth it to avert potential catastrophe.

Fate still deigned to mock him however, from the instant he sat down a maine-coon attached to him, refusing to move from his side, or to let the memories of past failures escape.

All cats attached to Hikari, she merely shared them with the other customers as she saw fit.  There was no doubt she enjoyed herself, but the moment had been well and truly ruined.

Takeru had managed to obtain an opportunity of redemption. ‘Same time next week’ had been the agreement, and he had near instantly resumed planning.  Whatever he came up this time had to top what he’d just done, or else he might have to explain away his mistake.

But even the most perfect plan does not survive contact with the enemy, and the enemy presented itself as an ill-timed phone call from his father.   One of his coworker’s households had apparently been graced by the appearance of a small white blob with a voracious appetite, and Hiroaki was wondering if his son could stop by after school and help calm the panicking mother, perhaps also giving tips for digital care.

Hikari would not allow him to say no, and insisted on tagging along.  But the TV station itself held a lot of painful memories for the girl, every year she returned with an offering of flowers and incense for Wizardmon’s grave.

It was far from a total waste since an idol Hikari had been following was also present.  Somehow the idol had overheard their arrival, and considered themselves interested in the pro-digimon cause.  In fact, the idol had been downright helpful, asking questions of him and Hikari that the coworker was likely to embarrassed or too naïve to think of.  Hiroaki ended up taking them all out for dinner, and they chatted for hours, finally assuaging the fear of a parent whose daughter now had a dog-head as a life partner.  

By that point, he had to take Hikari home, with no real opportunity to confess, even if Wizardmon wasn’t on her mind.

The third attempt was a no go from the beginning, Hikari had been sent into a rare, foul state.  All she wanted to do was eat ice-cream and rant, so they went to a dairy-bar overlooking the beach.

He’d let her vent when she wanted to vent, and when she was done he did what he did best: deflecting the conversation to some odd antics of Daisuke or his brother, anything to get her happy and cheerful again. Even after her mood had recovered, steering the conversation towards a confession felt like he might be taking advantage of her, or putting her on the spot somehow.

Cheering her up was reward enough, even as he paid for the forty-flavor super-jumbo, bottomless Sunday that they’d managed to make a liar out of.

(He’d eaten perhaps an eighth of it, there was no doubt in his mind that Hikari could have eaten the whole thing; but she at least wanted the plausible deniability to claim that he’d consumed half the calories.)

The fourth attempt was similarly doomed, he’d been too sick for school that day, and while Hikari had dropped by, he was too delirious to form a real confession, or for her to take any confession seriously.

The feel of her hand stroking his hear as she tended to him had been so heavenly though.  He couldn’t regret the experience.

By this point Takeru was convinced their Wednesday gatherings were cursed.  There was little reason Hikari would even see them as special.  And while he always enjoyed spending time with her, especially just the two of them, he was worried that regularity may dampen the splendor he’d initially been going for.

This week he requested to move their weekly hang out session to Saturday.  It would allow more time for them to be out at night, and thus more time for him to enact his perfect confession.  Hikari’s father was away on business, and her mother had already agreed to be rather lax on her daughter’s curfew.

His mother had not, but she would not punish him if he told her he was out on his first date, nor would she punish him after getting rejected, yet another reason he needed to actually spit it out today.

And it seemed all the stars were aligning, on top of her father being out of town: a photography exhibition at a local gallery was going for half price, and her favorite indie group were headlining a public concert at the beach until sundown.  Finally, there was a forecast for a clear, bright moon, and a local botanical garden was advertising a moonlit stroll through their flowers.

Hikari had agreed on one condition: they could wade through the shallows, but not do any real swimming at the beach.  It had seemed odd to Takeru at first, but the beach had been more about the free concert than seeing her in her swimsuit.

***

When Takeru arrived at the Yagami apartment he was stunned by the vision of beauty that graced him.  Hikari was wearing a strapless dress, black with accents of pink and white, that he’d never seen her in before.   Based on how high her head was coming up his body, she had to be wearing quite daring heels as well.

And her makeup had been done with so much precision and effort he had to wonder if perhaps Mimi had come back to town to help her.

“T-Takeru?” she asked, and he realized he must have been staring.

“I’m sorry, have you seen Hikari?  Brown hair, about yea tall,” he held his hand about three feet off the floor, “may have a family of ducklings following her around.”

“That was one time.” She scolded.

Takeru stood on his tip toes and moved one hand to sit above his eyes, like a visor.  “Hikari? Is that you?  Are you trapped behind this radiant goddess in front of me?”

A tell-tale pink infiltrated her cheeks as she turned around.  “It’s too much isn’t it?  I could still maybe change and-”

His hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could escape. “You look perfect.” He said sincerely, pulling her in for a hug. “Besides, people at the exhibit will be expecting beauty and art.  They just may not be expecting the source.”

“You’re just saying that.” She deflected.

He wasn’t.

Takeru was not the same connoisseur of photography Hikari was.  When push comes to shove, he wasn’t sure anyone was the same connoisseur of photography Hikari was.  That said, he enjoyed exhibits well enough.  He liked to look at the pictures, and soak them in.  Try and memorize every detail to regurgitate later.  

Or occasionally, he would find a particular picture, and write a story in his head.  How had they gotten here, to this moment, what did picture mean to the squirrel which was the focus?  What was he doing immediately before?  How did this moment change his life?

Such joys eluded him today, instead his focus was solely on the brunette accompanying him.  The pictures only mattered in how they changed the expression on her face as she examined them.  

After exiting the gallery, there was still about an hour before the band started playing at the beach, they stopped for a bite to eat, and Takeru did his best to fake his way though her questions on the exhibition.

What was his favorite photo?  He named one on the left wall of the one she stared at for ten minutes, that had framed her head the whole time.  Why?  He made up some impromptu story he’d concocted about the scenery involved.  It won him a laugh from her as he turned the questions around.

When they got to the beach, Hikari replaced her heels with flat sandals she kept in her purse.  Takeru noted that he at least recognized the heels this time, unlike her dress, but he’d still never seen her wear them before.

Despite her insistence they not swim, (something Takeru now realized had to do with the amount of time she’d spent on her makeup,) hikari had instantly dragged him towards the water, to wade in the shallows.  They didn’t go much more than ankle deep, anymore and they risked getting hikari’s dress and his shorts wet, but it had been romantic nonetheless.

When the main act began to play, they collected their shoes and moved towards the stage, communications dampening as the speakers drowned out all sounds but the band on stage.

Takeru didn’t need words, the sight of Hikari, framed by the sunset, losing herself in the moment was more than enough for him.

It was twilight when the band’s ‘second encore’ had concluded and the crowd began to peter out.   There was a small ice-cream sack on the beach, and Hikari rarely turned down an opportunity for more of the frozen delight.

They talked about the concert, the waves on the beach, of everything and nothing all at once, until the residual light from the sun faded and the moon came in full force.  In the city like this, there was always a glow of artificial light, but it did not diminish Tsukuyomi’s splendor.

Meandering towards the botanical gardens, continuing their chatter about daily life.  Just outside Hikari stopped him, finding a bench to switch back from flats to heels, insisting it was more ‘proper’.  Takeru didn’t let her get away unscathed, suggesting that if she wanted to feel taller, stilts would be more appropriate.  She responded by playfully warning him that he may ‘wake up one day, two feet shorter’.

Neither comment had nearly as much effect as when the woman at the counter remarked on ‘What a beautiful date this would make’ and how she ‘wished her boyfriend had been so romantic at that age.’

Hikari’s face could be mistaken for a tomato, and Takeru adopted an uncharacteristic stutter as he paid their admission and ushered Hikari outside.

The woman’s words had a chilling effect, the natural conversation had all but dried up, replaced with subtle pleasantries and tepid remarks about the moonlit flowers.  Before long Hikari had her camera out, taking pictures of the various plant life, abandoning most conversation all together.

Was this it, had such a small, well-meaning action already cursed him?  Everything was going so well.  Was he a modern Sysphus?  Doomed to forever push himself up the hill of a relationship with Hikari only to fall down at the pinnacle and start all over?

“Takeru?” Hikari asked, snapping him out of his monologue, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Takeru replied “Just thinking.”

She grabbed his arm, pulling him towards a nearby bench. “Come on, let’s take a break, these shoes are killing me.”

“The price of fashion.” Takeru said sagely.

After they reached the bench, and Hikari had relieved herself of her footwear, they paused, focusing on some hydrangeas flow in the wind, accented by moon light.  A weight appeared on Takeru’s shoulder, where Hikari began to rest her head.

“Right now.” She said “This moment just feels so…perfect.”

Takeru took a deep breath.  He had the most wonderful girl on his arm, after spending nearly eight hours with her. “Yeah, perfect.”

A perfect moment.

It was unlikely a better opportunity would present itself.

“Hikari.” He said suddenly, just as she chimed in with his name. “Sorry,” they said in unison.

Her head pulled off his arm, quite disappointingly in his opinion, as she turned to face him.

“Ladies first.” Takeru said “I insist.”  She gave him a soft look, knowing that he wouldn’t let her win this one.

 “Okay.” She started “This last month, has just been so wonderful, so amazing.  I know I’m not the most experienced with this, and I know we haven’t really put a name on it, but it’s still been like something out of a novel.  I guess I should expect that from you.”

She had begun to look down, rummaging through her purse, as takeru tried to sort out exactly what she was talking about.  Had it already been a month since they started these ‘friend-dates?’

Hikari continued obliviously, “It’s not much, especially since you seem to do all the planning, but I thought you’d like it.” She pulled out a tightly-wrapped box. “Happy  one-month anniversary.”

Ani-what?

Dates rolled back in his head as he began to piece things together; the dress, the makeup, the heels, those were all for him?  Had she always been considering these less friend-dates and more dates-dates?

And he, in a move of pure coincidence, had moved this week’s date to Saturday, one month to the day of that first date, and even asked her mother for permission to stay out late.

Takeru did the only thing he could think of in the moment.

He laughed.

“Tak-Takeru?” she asked, and he could already sense fear and hesitation begin to well up within her as she saw her (boyfriend?) laugh at her anniversary gift.  He grabbed her and pulled her into a hug to dissuade any doubts.

“Happy anniversary,” he said when his hysterics died down.  “One month, I’ve been trying to confess for a month, and you hit me with that.”

“Wait, confess?” Hiakri said, begging a laugh of his own that quickly spread to Takeru.  “All this time and you didn’t even think we were dating?  You completely stopped flirting with everyone else.  Did you really think I didn’t…”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Takeru teased in response.

“Yeah,” Hikari agreed. “Well, if you finally managed to confess after all that, maybe I can do something I’ve been too scared to do for the last month.”

Takeru looked down at her, “What would that be?” he asked leaning in close.

“This.” She pressed her lips against his.

[kingdomblade]

Digimon Kizuna thoughts

All spoilers will be under the cut!

Fresh off of Tri when Kizuna was announced, I wrote up some hopes I had for this movie. Without looking back at that list, I'm pretty sure this movie managed to not hit any of the things I wanted off of that list - but I'm still walking away completely satisfied. The characters, the story, the setting all feel like completely natural progression from how I remember them, it manages to tell a compelling story in a fairly short movie, the animation and designs are drop dead gorgeous. It's clearly a labor or love and I'm thankful for everyone who worked on it. In some ways it leaves me wanting more - I'd love one more entry with the 02 group as a focus, and I think there would be a lot of value in an entry that focuses more on Digimon intigrated with the human world rather than yet another story about kids discovering Digimon. But if this is the last time we see these twelve in this form, what a way to go. 

This is absolutely stream of consciousness writing while I’m on my second watch through of the day (In lieu of livetweeting - I’ll spare my followers that much lol). Is it rambling? Absolutely. It may or may not be of interest, but I thought it would be something fun to do regardless. If you decide to read, I hope you enjoy!

----

Tom Fahn’s Agumon is noticeably a bit lower pitched even compared to Tri, weather he can’t take his voice up as much or if it’s a different portrayal I’m not sure but it still fits him really well - Tentomon’s voice feel slightly different too. Funny enough Gabumon is somehow lighter and more childish than his original portrayal, but it also fits him well.

Both Tri and Kizuna have such a weird process to their casting - They got back actors that as far as I can tell haven’t done much if anything since their days on Digimon, they’ve gotten back actors for side characters with bit parts. They’ve hired new actors that seem to take the original voice into account and take their own spin on them, and then they hire actors with absolutely no regard for how the original sounded to the point that it just plain conflicts with the established character. It’s all over the place and it’s weird.

Johnny Yong Bosch's portrayal seems slightly different from Tri, maybe he's playing him slightly older, maybe it's the slightly different personality, maybe I'm imagining it. Something about it reminds me of Doug Erholtz's portrayal, which is an added bonus when JYB was already one of the best of the recasts. Minutes in and I'm completely sold on Nicholas Roye's Matt as well, it sounds like a natural progression from his Adventure voice.

In a vacuum Griffin Burns is a decent Davis, but he's one of the recasts that immersion breaking because not only does he sound nothing like Brian Donovan, but his take on Davis is higher pitch than Donovan's so it's impossible to hear him as older. The fact that Donovan was supposed to reprise his role is just salt on the wound. With the insane amount of delays that this dub got, they surely could have brought him back onboard... It's a  shame that 2 our of 3 roles I've heard of Burns have been a replacement of another actor, hope he can get more roles where he can shine more. On the other hand, Bryce Papenbrook as Cody is brilliant casting coming from his 02 voice for what little we get to hear of him.

Yolei didn't sound to great in her video message, but by the time we see her in person her VA has gotten into the role and captures her really well. Hawkmon sounds fine enough, but I'm way more upset than I should be about Armadillomon's voice considering he doesn't have many lines. A recast was mandatory here, and 'medium-deep southern accent' should honestly be pretty easy to replicate but what we got was horrific. What casting director knew enough about the characters to know that Hawkmon had a British accent but not enough to know what an armadillo sounds like??

Mimi is just straight up Sakura now! I actually thought Kate Higgens would have made a great Yolei, kinda funny to see her here as Mimi now.

Not only did Agumon's "Polly want a cracker?" line slay me, but there's something about Tom Fahn's portrayal that really hits me, even though he's not even my favorite Digimon. It hasn't even been a long time since I've heard it - Tri wasn't that long ago, and I just rewatched Adventure/02 within the past few weeks, but hearing him made me a bit emotional, ha. Same thing happened with his first appearance in Tri, and that was after having seen it in Japanese and knowing what was going to happen!

The opening battle is like a complete screw-you to Tai's arc in Tri with Greymon smashing into buildings and Tai completely unfazed. I'm here for it, lol.

The remastered Digivolution sequences are nice but in true nostalgia fashion I kinda prefer the originals, haha.

Izzy's computer is counting down a 'time rimit'.

Agumon says something to the effect of “Aren’t I always hungry?“ and I don't feel like it’s a reference/jab at Tri, but it got a chuckle out of me anyway.

Tai's classmate is blatantly voiced by JYB too, ha.

Matt gives his location as 'inside the restaurant' when calling an ambulance which seems... not helpful. Love that Tai's reaction to a girl collapsing is a confused "Is she drunk?"

An article on Tai's phone is written in perfect English and he gets message from the name Izzy specifically so I'd assume this is a change for the US release. Subtitles would have been perfectly fine but it's a nice effort to keep immersion.

"The ol' Izz-master" I’m so, so glad they got Jeff Nimoy to write this script, bless Toei.

Only 4 of the Digidestined participating in the battle against the Digidestined is kinda disappointing until I realized that it was a throwback to Our War Game - TK and Izzy get to participate more this time around! As per usual Tentomon (Kabuterimon) manages to sneak in a hilarious line here.

'Lime Magazine' just doesn't have the same ring to it...

TAI'S MAGAZINES...

Tai calling Agumon 'little buddy' is the second scene to hit me right in the feels.

Matt is the only one to reach out to the 02 kids during the movie, I wonder if he felt guilty about what went down in Tri and kept in touch with them a bit more since.

Seeing Kari and TK tied up in a dark room like that is actually one of the more shocking scenes in the movie. That could have ended very differently if this was a different movie...

Meiko shows up for literally one scene with Meicoomon which has... interesting implications. This movie retroactively makes her more tragic as well, as even if she didn't sacrifice Meicoomon there's a chance their partnership would have dissolved anyway - almost a complete lose-lose, there was no way for them to be happy together.

Himekawa is also retroactively more tragic as it's possible she would have been able to see Tapirmon again here - one shows up in the crowd shot!

Honestly this is the movie Himekawa deserved - she was a really interesting character that got wasted and underused in Tri, and while Menoa parallels her in a lot of ways her stoicism just isn't as interesting and Hime's decent into madness was.

L'il Joe has black hair now?

I'm pretty sure Menoa doesn't say "Oh shit" but honestly I'm gonna pretend she does.

I mentioned on Twitter how Leomon doesn't die in this one because he never showed up, but there's one fighting an Eosmon in what I think is Osaka and he doesn't die, and GOOD ON HIM, HE BROKE THE CYCLE!

Omnimon having limbs sliced off got an audible gasp from me.

Matt ACTUALLY got to curse in this movie, character development!!

"Just one thing: Meow" I had to pause the movie, I lost it

Story wise, theme wise, character wise I get it, but mad Sora got screwed over in this movie. Would have been nice if 'To Sora' was included inside of the movie at least.

I still don't like Agu and Gabu's new evolutions, but they did feel really earned and a natural extension of the plot. What better way to spark an evolution than such a huge sacrifice? Izzy's perfectly timed 'prodigious' was the icing on the cake, coming at such a fitting emotional moment and possibly being the last time we'll hear it from Izzy.

When the Eosmon start disappearing all over the world there's a shot of an exhausted lone Numemon who had clearly held off the Eosmon with all the poop that is strewn about. THAT is the next story I want to see.

Unfortunately this movie is in the Tri School of Only Using Champion Level. It's actually pretty inexcusable that we we don't see WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon one more time, but even the other characters should have gone up to Ultimate if not Mega for one final sendoff. I wish we could have seen them truely fight as a team once more, even just for fanservice.

My strongest complaint with the movie itself is that it just kinda... ends. The ending is super emotional, but it just skips ahead afterwards and says 'things are going to be ok!' and ends. I would have liked to see the rest of the kids once more, seeing how they handle the fallout or how they might support Tai and Matt - or maybe a little about what Tai and Matt have taken away from this whole things. Just felt like we needed an extra couple of minutes.

Will we see these particular versions of these characters again? From what I can tell this movie did well in Japan and it’s trending pretty well on Amazon, so who knows. I hope if we do, it’s because the writers come up with an idea they really believe in and not just for the sake of a sequel. But if not, I’m definately greatful for what we have.

[louuieferrignojr]

title: set me free (1/?) (ao3 link)

summary: malex au loosely based on “peach plum pear.” alex asks kyle to take them on a road trip to roswell, new mexico and along the way meet michael guerin.

day 7 of malex week - au

Kyle Valenti was a lot of things. 

Proud Mexican-American. Quarterback for the football team. A great friend.

Such a great friend that when his best friend of fifteen years, Alex Manes, decided he wanted to take a road trip to Roswell, New Mexico of all places and asked Kyle to drive, he said yes. He had no idea what was in Roswell that was so important. Maybe his best friend believed in aliens and kept that embarrassing fact about himself hidden. Kyle would.

If anything, Alex just looked at him with his big brown sad eyes and he didn’t have the heart to suggest a different road trip destination.

“Alex, can you let me know what’s so special about Roswell?” Kyle asked as soon as they hit the freeway, saying goodbye to their life in San Diego for the next week. Alex sighed in response before speaking.

“You’ll see when we get there.” Kyle narrowed his eyes at the vague answer, and watched as Alex curled into himself and leaned his head against the window, shutting his eyes and effectively also shutting down the conversation.

Kyle turned on the radio as Alex slept. 

He was a really great friend.

--

“Alex? Come on man, wake up.” Kyle shook Alex’s shoulder gently and watched as Alex sat up in alarm. As Kyle’s worried eyes met Alex’s, Alex ignored the look of concern before taking off his seatbelt. 

It was dark out and Alex looked around in confusion, before he took notice of the sign in front of them.

“The Wild Pony?” Alex asked, incredulously, turning to his friend. “Kyle, why are we at a bar?”

Kyle rolled his eyes before opening his car door. “Because I have been driving for 6 hours straight, my legs are cramping, and I need a drink.”

Alex scoffed, “You mean, you want to see if you can pick up any girls with your obviously fake I.D.?”

“I also need a drink,” he responded, ignoring Alex’s judgemental look and turning towards the entrance to the bar. 

Alex begrudgingly followed after him and to no surprise, their fake I.D.s worked as the bouncer let them into the bar.

There was a black woman at the bar, with curly hair and a soft smile. Her kind face put Alex at ease. If he just sat at the bar all night, he would feel safe. While Kyle tried to mingle with drunk girls, Alex took a seat on a stool near the bar.

“What would you like?” The woman - Mimi, he noticed from her nametag - asked. 

“Just water please,” he asked politely. His mom would be proud of his manners. She always had been, before she focused too much on her work and would sometimes forget about Alex’s existence. All his other brothers were out of the house, but Alex was stuck there. He knew she tried and she met Ben, who was a nice enough stepdad, but Alex just wanted his mom and she seemed to disappear before his eyes. Maybe after this trip was taken care of, he could fix their relationship.

“Everything alright sweetie?” Alex shook thoughts of his mom out of his head as he took notice of the glass of water in front of him, the condensation falling down the side of the glass. He looked up to see the bartender looking at him with worry and he plastered on a smile. 

“I’m great,” he responded, before quickly grabbing the water and sipping it, trying to end the conversation. 

He turned on the stool to see Kyle surrounded by three girls and Alex could only roll his eyes.

“Friend of yours?” The bartender asked him and he groaned in response. 

“Best friend and current pain in the ass,” he muttered, banging his head on the bar. As he went to hit his head again, he landed on a gentle cloth and looked up in surprise.

Mimi smirked before speaking, “No blood on the bar please.” 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. The mention of blood triggered something in him and he quickly got off the stool, almost toppling it over before running outside of the bar. He didn’t see the older woman’s worried look in his direction as he left, looking over into the parking lot trying to steady his breathing. Flashes of his past went through his mind.

“Clean up that blood,” Jesse Manes yelled out, kicking Alex in his already bruised ribs as he left him in the driveway. 

“Alex?” Kyle’s voice brought him back to the present and Alex looked at his friend, noting the way he was swaying in place. 

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed Kyle gently to steady him before looking back into the parking lot. 

“Kyle, you parked the car in that spot right?” Alex asked, remembering how close they had parked to the front of the bar and how he was now looking at an empty parking space.

Kyle squinted his eyes as he faced the parking lot, as if the car would appear in his line of vision before turning to Alex. “Alex, the car is missing!” 

“No shit, Sherlock. You have keen observational skills,” he deadpanned. 

The sound of the door from the bar opening was just background noise to Alex as he tried to think of what could have happened to their car.

“You boys okay?” Mimi let the bar door shut behind her as she took out a pack of cigarettes for her smoke break.

Alex tensed at the cigarettes, reminders of the cigarette butts his dad would burn into his arm, before shaking his head.

“Our car seems to have… um… gone missing.” 

Mimi winced, “Wyatt Long.”

“Who?” Kyle asked, sobering up as he digested the news that his car was missing.

“Local asshole and thief. He probably stole it.”

“So let’s go talk to him. See if we can get the car back,” Alex suggested, suddenly feeling brave. What could be so bad about asking him for the car back? 

“Probably not a good idea boys. He’s racist, homophobic and usually right after he steals a car, he takes apart the car and sells the parts for money.”

The boys looked up at her with twin faces of disbelief, before Kyle groaned.

“My mom is going to murder me.”

“Not unless we get murdered here first. We have no car, no clothes and nowhere to go,” Alex pointed out, not really sure if he was even being sarcastic about the murdering part. 

“If you boys don’t mind, I have two couches that you can sleep on for the night. You can go to Sanders’ Auto Shop tomorrow about trying to get a car there working so you can continue on your trip.” 

“Really?” Alex asked, biting his lip, not wanting to be an inconvenience. 

Mimi only smiled. “Not a problem at all. You can meet my daughter Maria. She’s about your age. It’s just the two of us, so it’s a bit lonely. Nice to have some company.” She put her on Alex’s shoulder gently, rubbing her hand up and down in comfort.

“Okay, but only for one night,” Alex stated, looking at Kyle who could only nod in agreement.

Mimi winked as if she knew more than she was letting on. “If you insist.”

--

“Welcome to our humble abode boys,” Mimi opened the door and let them walk in. Alex noted the unusual decor of the home, but there was a comforting aroma that put him at ease. Living at home when his dad was still in the picture was an abusive prison and living with his mom and Ben now was just filled with silence and missing family, even with his mom there - she was never really there anymore. 

Mimi’s house reminded him of what kind of home he could have had. It made Alex freeze where he stood.

“Mom, are you home?” A voice called from the kitchen. Alex and Kyle looked in the direction the voice came from and came face to face with a beautiful girl with the same natural curly hair as her mother. 

“Maria, meet Alex and Kyle,” Mimi introduced the pair to her daughter, who took in their appearance with a raise of her eyebrow. Mimi excused herself to go to the bathroom.

“More strays mom?” She asked loudly as her mom walked past her, amused. Alex looked at her in confusion and Maria caught the look on his face.

She could only laugh in response, shaking her head. “You two aren’t the first people she’s offered our couches too. When people come to this town and have no place to stay, my mom will offer the couch to them for a night or two. She once invited two lost Mormon missionaries who didn’t know how to say no to my mom and they ended up trying to sell us on their religion.” Kyle laughed at that and Alex’s mouth turned up, as if he was trying not to laugh himself.

“Did it work?” 

“No, but my mom tried to sell them some Wiccan supplies in return and they ran out of here so fast the next morning.” The boys both broke into hysterics at that and Maria walked to the hallway closet to get them blankets and pillows. 

“Here ya go boys,” she offered them the items and they gratefully took them from her.

“Thank you again for letting us stay with you both,” Alex quickly said in appreciation for their act of kindness.

Maria could only nod, before a smile took over her face.

“Don’t worry about it. Did you plan on staying in this town for long?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh no, just the night. Your mom mentioned that we can go to some car service place called Sanders to get a car to use for the rest of our trip.”

Maria smirked. “Good luck with that. Goodnight boys.” 

Kyle and Alex looked at each other in uncertainty, but shrugged their shoulders and got ready for bed.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

[ofvagabxnds]

( DEWANDA WISE. THIRTY FOUR. FEMALE. SHE/HER. ) in texas, SELENA MARTEL is known to most as LENA. they’ve been living in stratford for 6 YEARS and currently CON ARTIST/GYM OWNER (ATLAS). some say they are EXTRAVAGANT & VINDICTIVE but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re LOQUACIOUS & INSIGHTFUL. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear TEAR YOU APART by SHE WANTS REVENGE playing from their window. ( haphazardly strewn passports lining the bottoms of drawers, the telling clicks of a stubborn safe lock, half signed adoption records, broken compasses. )

basics

Full Name: Selena Martel

Nickname(s): Lena

Age: 34

Date of Birth: November 10

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Place of Birth: Dallas, Texas

Nationality: American

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual with a preference for women

Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic

Religion: Practicing Bhuddist, but no formal religion

Occupation: Gym Owner; Atlas

Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish, French, Romanian, Porteguese 

physical appearance

Face Claim: DeWanda Wise 

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Height: 5’6 or 167 cm

Weight: 128 lbs or 56 kg

personality

Positive Traits: Loquacious, Insightful, Determined, Crafty

Negative Traits: Extravagant, Vindictive, Dishonest, Self Serving

Goals/Desires: Selena is trying to raise her daughter away from all of the chaos she left in her wake. Having conned many influential and dangerous people, she knows their lives are always in danger.

Fears: Someone getting the best of her, losing her daughter, Grasshoppers

Hobbies: Yoga, Kickboxing, Martial Arts

Quirks: Never, ever remembers to throw the milk carton away when it’s empty

Biography

Winifred Banks was born to a relatively normal family on the outskirts of Dallas. She had two sisters and two parents who seemingly adored each other, and from the outside looking in, the public was able to see a family living the American Dream in vivid color. That, of course, wasn't’ the whole truth, so help anyone’s god. Winnie’s mother, Yara, only married her father because she thought she was hitting the jackpot. Ricky Banks was a popular investor, a result from a fluke of a windfall, and Yara was just tenacious enough to make him fall for her so she could pull herself from the gutters. Things were good for a while. The couple married, had their three girls, and they lived in a nice suburban home in the nice part of the city. Yara participated in PTA meetings and gushed over her perfect life right up until federal agents showed up at her door with a warrant to search the entire house. As it turned out, Ricky had been dabbling in touching things that did not belong to him, and after an intensive trial, he ended up spending a little less than five years in a federal lock up. 

Yara and the girls had to move in with her sister’s family a few hours away, and though Winnie and her sisters were relatively taken care of, their mother didn’t leave bed for months. They pieced together enough of what had happened through news outlets and overheard conversations, and though her sister’s were scared, Winnie decided then and there she would never be desperate enough to ruin her family like her father had. In fact, Winnie decided that she would only be taking care of herself from that point on. Her father was released around the time she was starting high school, which meant moving again. As if nothing had happened, the family fell right back into the pattern of keeping up with the Jones’. Yara was back to being the stepford mother and her sisters seemed content to have their lives back. It was only Winnie who questioned it all, and when the cops came knocking again, this time months later, she realized her parents would always be so reckless and desperate in their lives. 

Ricky was in prison again when she graduated, and though she told her mother she was leaving for college, Winnie had other plans. Freshly eighteen and full of a hunger to do more than what she’d been exposed to, she drove west, hitting the highlights and lowlights of each state she passed through, and as the days wound on, she realized her parents hadn’t left her with nothing to go on. The gift of playing a persona to cover her own ass was as easy and natural as breathing, and so in each new place she became a new version of herself. Every lie was gobbled up thanks to her infectious smiles and absolute conviction, and with each story she told, the rewards of her actions grew tenfold, until finally she hit the big jackpot. In a bar fifty miles from the coast the persona that was Winifred Banks officially died to give way to the first opportunity to be someone completely different. She managed to swipe not only his cash and cards, she also managed to pilfer the keys and title to a very sleek sports car that she sold for ten grand less than two hours later. 

And that was how the lies began. 

She began playing on the gullibility each human owned, crafting entire lives catered to a certain job in order to deliver the most damage when she struck. A web of contacts, invaluable wit, and a tenacity hardly matched allowed the nameless woman to get close to people in order to take the very things they valued most. All she had to do was drop the dead weight of a family who did nothing but disappoint her, and with each passing year her abilities grew exponentially. Eventually she grew adept enough to go international, hitting various countries for long enough to do small jobs before she returned home on her falsified documents. She began to think she was unstoppable, an unmovable force to be reckoned with, but as with all things, life had a curveball that stopped her dead in her tracks. Vacationing in the middle americas, she met what she would later refer to as her kryptonite. Though the stakes were higher than they had ever been, it began as any other job. She collected information and crafted the persona of Selena Martel, and with that persona, she seduced her way into the inner folds of a cartel family. 

Though this job started off as any other, one thing was instantly and very obviously different. Selena found herself attracted to the target in more ways than just how big her bank account was, and without even noticing, she found herself growing comfortable in the life she was pretending to built there. Months in she realized she was in over her head, but it was already too late. She loved the other, and the plans they had made became more important than nearly anything else, so when she heard herself suggest they adopt, suggest they start a family, there wasn’t any shock to be had. Only unbridled happiness. 

That, of course, came to a screeching halt months before the adoption was to be finalized. An atrocious act hit too close to home, killing many and injuring even more, and in that moment Selena felt a pang of fear for the family she was building. Just like her parents, her own desperation was putting a child in the way of her own dreams, and though it killed her to leave, leaving was the only option she could think of. So Selena bribed the courts to push the adoption through without the other mother’s signature, and when the baby was placed in her arms, she cleaned out her mark (as was always the plan) and left without looking back. Selena moved back to Texas, finding a small, out of the way town, and with the money she stole, she opened her own business. Though she was smart enough not to put the gym in her current alias, she kept Selena as a name because it was what she signed the adoption papers as and she didn’t want to slip up and lose her daughter. For the most part she’d finished with her con life for now because she’s trying to be a good enough mom to make up for her past, but she can’t help herself from slipping into routine every now and then. 

Tidbits

Selena has been in Newton for 7 years with her daughter.  Her daughter’s name is Mireya (which means miricle), but Selena calls her Mimi Is stinking wealthy bc she stole it all from her ex/last mark She teaches various classes at her gym (yoga, kickboxing, martial arts). Told her daughter and the general public that her partner died.  Loves collecting art. When stressed she eats sweets like crazy.