#okay hi hello sorry just. the way he goes from indulgent exasperation to Actual Wide Eyed Concern

[meyerlansky]

stop horsin' around.

[lavenderbexlatte]

holding you like this

stray kids  13.4k words female reader insert Reader x DILF!Hwang Hyunjin  EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: original characters (adult f and child f), single father, unhealthy family dynamics, relationship insecurity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, breeding/impregnation kink 🖤

🚨🚨 the unhealthy family dynamic warning applies to hyunjin and his parents, NOT hyunjin and his child! there are elements of emotional manipulation and emotional neglect of an adult child by his parents. please don’t read if you would find this content triggering!

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You prepare yourself for a lot of social what-ifs when you go to the grocery store, but a three-year-old almost taking you out with a headbutt to the knee isn’t usually one of them.

On this particular day, you’re standing in the coffee aisle, scanning the rows of beans, trying to pick between a new roast for your French press, or a new flavor for the automatic drip. You’re not having an easy time of it, either. They all look the same to you. And really, is a French vanilla that different from a caramel swirl? Why are some of these so expensive? They’re all just beans, aren’t they?

The coffee dilemma is taking up all of your conscious focus, so you don’t even hear the tiny footsteps clicking against the industrial tile floor. You don’t see the head of bouncing dark hair, barreling toward you. You don’t notice anything until a tiny body slams right into your leg, and little arms wrap around your knees.

You look down in shock, rocking back to steady yourself so that you don’t topple right over. Your phone nearly slips out of your hand, right onto the head of the very small human peering up at you with big round eyes.

It’s a little girl.

She has glitter extensions and a floor-brushing gown, looking royal and in control right down to the tiny Mary Janes on her feet. She doesn’t look confused or perturbed at all, not even bothered by clinging to a stranger like this. Well, that makes one of you.

“Hello,” the little girl says, her voice high but confident. “What’s your name?”

You tell her, and she nods wisely, in a way that looks incredibly bizarre for someone so young.

“Okay. I’m Minnie,” she says.

“Minnie,” your repeat.

The girl nods, her arms still clamped around your knees. “Like the mouse.”

She points at one of the barrettes clipped into her meticulously styled hair. It’s a flat metal cameo pin of Minnie Mouse, smudged with tiny fingerprints as if she touches it often.

“Cool,” you say awkwardly.

You reach down and gently unwind her arm from around you, freeing yourself, and you kneel down so that you’re at her height. She just looks directly at you, and you can feel the judgmental intelligence behind her gaze. It’s kind of scary.

“I’m three and three-quarters,” she tells you proudly.

“Where’s your grown up?” you ask her.

You don’t really think you’d be much help to this child. You certainly don’t want to have to be responsible for her for too long. Where are her parents, or whoever she came here with?

“My grown up?” she mulls it over, “You mean Daddy. He’s lookin’ at juice.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” you ask.

“Ran away,” she shrugs, “If I run, Daddy chases me.”

“Do you think Daddy likes chasing you?” you ask.

You immediately curse yourself inwardly for asking a preschooler a half-sarcastic question like that. You don’t know this kid from Eden, you can’t just mouth off at her. But Minnie is sharp, and she just smiles at you winningly.

“I dunno. Prob’ly not,” she shrugs again, and you marvel at the big attitude in this small person.

“What if he’s worried about you?”

“Then he should find me,” she answers.

And with that, the kid sits down cross-legged on top of your feet, settling her gown neatly around herself. You’re floored. Apparently, you’ve become the shade tree that this kid is gonna sit under until her poor father finds her. Are all little kids this weird?

You’re not sure what to do. If you move, if you take her and go searching, you could spend all day missing her father at every turn. That means you should probably just stay here and wait for her dad to come to you. At least this way you know the kid’s safe and not running around to meet strangers more dangerous than you.

You get back to your coffee dilemma, as Minnie just sits primly on your feet. It’s not like you could walk away without dislodging her, anyway. And as you pick out a package of coarse-ground beans for your French press, you hear it.

“Minnie!”

An exasperated voice, from the end of the aisle. You turn toward the sound, and the person that you see takes your breath away.

It’s a man, tall and slim, long legs in wide-legged denim. His hair is shoulder-length and blonde, the top half of it held back in a small ponytail at the crown of his head. His face is equal parts angry and relieved, dark thick brows furrowing. The guy is incredibly, distractingly beautiful. You kind of can’t believe it.

“Daddy,” Minnie pipes up, as if confirming it to you.

She leans back against your shins like you’re her personal throne. You look down at her, and then back up at the man as he approaches, dragging a half-full shopping cart behind him.

“I am so sorry,” the man is saying, “She has a mind of her own and sometimes-”

“I made a friend!” Minnie interrupts her father.

The man leans down and scoops his daughter off your feet, plunking her into the basket of his shopping cart.

“You’re in jail, princess,” he tells her curtly.

“I’ll get out,” she replies.

You’re sure that your jaw is actually hanging open several inches as the man turns back to you to continue his rambling apology.

“I really am sorry, um…” he pauses.

“(Y/N),” you fill in for him.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you dismiss, “She just wanted to talk. And I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost. More lost.”

The man grins at you sheepishly. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

“I like her,” Minnie calls from her shopping-cart jail cell, “She’s funny.”

“That’s a high honor,” Hyunjin tells you soberly.

“I’m glad to finally hear that someone thinks I’m funny,” you say.

Hyunjin laughs. He has a nice laugh, sharper and shriller than you would have thought, but full and honest. He looks just like Minnie when he smiles. You’re thoroughly charmed.

“Well,” you say, tugging yourself back to reality, “I have some more shopping to do, so…”

“We’re friends now!” Minnie announces.

Hyunjin glances at his daughter. “You two are friends now?”

“Yes!” the girl insists.

Hyunjin returns his gaze to you. “I guess you’re friends now. Any chance you’re up to see us again sometime?”

“See you again?” you repeat, nonplussed.

“Just for coffee, maybe. A playdate?” Hyunjin’s grin is teasing.

“Doesn’t she have other friends?” you ask, “Friends who are more…three years old?”

“Oh, sure. but Min is an equal-opportunity befriender,” Hyunjin says, “She likes everyone.”

You really don’t know what to make of this precocious little girl who’s just declared you her new friend and her very indulgent but admittedly very attractive father. You might consider that he was hitting on you, except that he’s clearly just bending to the will of his very willful child, and that he’s way, way, way out of your league.

“Sure,” you say, finally.

“Cool.”

Hyunjin pulls out his phone and offers it to you with the keypad open. You enter your number and call yourself, and you save each other’s data into your phones. ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad)’ goes in as your newest contact.

“We’ll text you to make plans!” Hyunjin promises, as he wheels his cart away.

“See you later!” Minnie calls.

She waves furiously at you until the two of them round the corner to the left, toward the checkout counters. You’re left standing there with your package of coffee and butterflies in your stomach.

Just like that, you have a new friend.

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

When you do eventually get a text from the number saved as ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad),’ it’s abundantly clear which of the two is doing the texting.

‘hello!!!!!!’ ‘yo u have to wear’ ‘princess dress!!!!!’

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and you’re at work, sat at your desk overlooking the production floor. Your lunch is just about to end, the boys in assembly below are already getting back to it, and you need to make this quick before your next meeting.

Hyunjin must have helped with the spelling, but that is definitely a message direct from Minnie. You’re debating how exactly to respond to this message, when a call comes in, instead. You answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” The voice on the other end is unmistakable.

“Hi, Minnie,” you say patiently.

“Did you get my text?”

“Of course,” you answer.

“Good. Wear your princess dress,” she says decisively. “Talk to Daddy now.”

The phone clatters loudly like it’s been dropped right on the floor, and you hear a shout in the background. You wince at the noise, but keep the phone pressed to your ear until Hyunjin’s voice replaces his daughter’s.

“Hey, sorry,” he says, “She decided that PJ Masks are more important than this phone call that she DEMANDED I make to invite you for coffee on Saturday.”  

“Coffee, huh?” you repeat.

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin says.

You can hear real hesitation in his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him, “No, no, I think it’s cute. It’s okay.”

“She just never takes to strangers this fast,” Hyunjin explains, and you can’t quite fathom why that piece of knowledge makes your stomach swoop. “I wanna encourage her to see the world as kind of…safe and fun, y’know? Is that stupid? Like, she shouldn’t just run around with strangers, but she shouldn’t be afraid of the world, either.”

“That makes sense,” you assure him.

“We had a talk about it, I think she understands the difference.”

He’s kind of rambling at you. You wonder how often Hyunjin gets a chance to talk parenting with someone.

“No, really, I understand,” you say, “I’d love to do coffee.”

“Great,” he says, “You can meet us at this café…I’ll send you the address. It’s called Mama Dining.”

You’ve never heard of it, but you trust Minnie’s taste. Hyunjin, you can’t say for sure. But you trust that little girl with more blind conviction than is probably necessary.

“Okay, see you then,” you say.

“Cool.” You can hear Hyunjin’s smile in his voice. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye!” comes Minnie’s voice, far away but loud, and you know that she must be screaming as loud as she can.

You laugh, and you hang up.

--------------- Mama Dining is a small glass-front piece of realty across from a folk medicine shop and underneath a square brick apartment building, a few metro stops away from the area where you live. It’s so stuffed full of potted plants and flowers in vases that there’s barely any surface area for anything else, but it’s clean and bright inside. The tables are mismatched with their chairs, and the whole place smells like coffee and sharp herbs and fresh bread.

It’s homey, that’s the word for it. Cozy, and homey.

You’d taken your pint-sized new friend’s advice to the letter, busting out one of the nice dresses that you save for special occasions. The last time you wore it was to a coworker’s wedding; it’s light and floaty and floral, a long floor-length skirt over a tighter inner slip. It’s the closest thing you have to a princess dress. But it’ll have to do.

You check your reflection in the glass as you pull the door open, bells tinkling above your head. As soon as you step into the café, a little voice shrieks at you.

“YES!”

Minnie is sitting at a table in the corner, in a different gown, her hair in an elaborate braided style, half-up and half-down. She’s looking at you with the utmost approval, and even though she’s a three-year-old, you still feel proud that you’re passing her test.

“A princess dress,” she says, satisfied.

“I tried my best,” you say.

You give a silly little spin on the spot, so that your skirt stands out for her, and behind you, someone laughs. You freeze, cheeks heating up.

“You look nice.”

It’s Hyunjin, because of course it is. You turn around to see him in casual jeans and a long sleeve tee, an apron tied around his waist. His hair is pulled back again, off his face. He’s gorgeous. But it kind of looks like…

“Do you work here?” you ask.

Hyunjin nods. “Easiest place to meet up is here, while I’m on shift. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I’ll get you a coffee,” he says, “What do you like?”

You tell him your regular order, and he heads to the espresso machine to start it up.

“Oh,” he calls, over the sound of the grinder, “And if Judy comes in while you’re here, I’m sorry in advance.”

Judy? Your stomach does an awkward flip at the idea of him inviting you here if he has a girlfriend, or a wife. You don’t think you’ve seen a wedding ring on him, but…

Oh, well. Nothing you can do, at this point. You’re here for the kid, anyway, aren’t you?

You go over to the table where Minnie has set up camp, propped in a booster seat to reach the tabletop. She has a coloring book and a pack of glitter crayons in front of her, and you pull up the second chair to join her. Minnie stares at you for second, her cute upturned eyes so much like her father’s, and then she opens up her coloring book, flipping the pages as carefully as she can.

When she finds what she wants, she sets the book down and rips the page out. It’s a picture of a teacup and saucer on a table, with a pitcher of flowers behind it.

“This is yours,” she says, with the utmost seriousness.

“Okay,” you say, matching her tone, “Can I use your crayons? I didn’t bring mine.”

You kind of expect a kid as serious and assertive as her to be careful about her possessions, but Minnie just upends the crayon box onto the table.

“Yep,” she says.

She grabs a lilac color and dives right into her own coloring page: a dressing table covered in cosmetics and trinkets. You select a red crayon from the pile and join her, filling in the delicate pattern on your teacup.

You can’t explain why it doesn’t feel like babysitting, but it doesn’t. It feels more like…coexisting. Like this preschooler really is just happy to have your company.

What a weird kid.

Hyunjin comes over after a moment with your coffee. The café is empty aside from you three, so he sits down at the table with you, placing the cup with your drink down beside the precarious pile of crayons.

“Daddy can’t color,” the kid tells you.

“Really?” you ask, looking up at Hyunjin wryly.

Hyunjin raises his hands as if in defeat, “My talents lie in performing arts, not studio arts. Unlike this renaissance child, who can do it all.”

It’s obvious that Hyunjin adores his daughter. You can see it in his eyes as he watches her scrub her crayons across the picture, in the way he talks about her. You’re not around kids a lot, but you can tell that this little girl has a lot of love in her life. That’s probably why she’s so bold; outgoing, kind, and well-adjusted kids are usually well-loved kids.

You smile to yourself as you keep coloring, switching the red for a grey. And after a while, you’re aware of Hyunjin’s watching gaze focused not on his daughter, but on you.

Embarrassed by the attention, you look up and meet his eye. He’s just watching you, with a lopsided smile that shows all of his teeth and crinkly smiling eyes that emphasize the little mole under his bottom eyelid on one side.

“What?” you ask.

He gives himself a little shake.

“Sorry,” he says.

It seems like all he does is apologize to you when he’s done nothing wrong at all.

“I was just thinking, it’s really sweet that you’re here,” he admits.

“Sweet?” you ask.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. How many people do you know who would come across town just to hang out with a little kid?”

You take a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect. Maybe the best you’ve ever had. Is he even real?

“Well, she’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met,” you say, “Regardless of age.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hyunjin says fondly.

“I’m cool,” Minnie agrees.

The doors of the café open softly, and you and Hyunjin turn around simultaneously to see a young couple, maybe college students, seating themselves and talking softly. Hyunjin excuses himself to go help them, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

What are you even doing here?

Did you agree to come on this very strange playdate because you were so taken by a strange child that you felt the need to keep a promise you made to her? Or, on some level, did you just want to see Hyunjin again? Neither answer is particularly good. Or sane.

“You and Daddy can be friends, too.”

Your head snaps up when you realize you’d being addressed, and you regard Minnie. “What?”

“You and Daddy can be friends. You’re my friend, but Daddy, too.”

You hum, as if you’re really puzzling it over, when in reality you’re about to collapse from the embarrassment of this child inadvertently setting you up with her dad. Or maybe advertently. You have no idea how smart she actually is.

“How does it look?” you ask instead, holding up your drawing.

Minnie puts down her crayon and scrutinizes your picture as if she’s a museum collections pro scouting for art.

“Do pink flowers,” she says eventually, and she returns to her own drawing with the same intensity.

“Good idea,” you say.

You pick out a rosy pink color and try to will all your nerves about Hyunjin away. He’s just a new friend. The father of you new littlest friend. You can’t make this weird just because he’s good-looking. Hyunjin himself has vanished into the back kitchen, tucked away to prepare something. You can hear a stove going, cutlery clattering.

The café door opens again as you’re idly listening to the sounds of the kitchen. This time, it’s a middle-aged woman with a long black ponytail and a practical, motherly outfit. She greets the young couple cheerfully, and then she sets her eyes on you.

“My Min!” the lady coos, and Minnie looks up from her drawing.

“Hi. I’m coloring.”

“I can see that,” the lady says, coming up closer to lean on the table next to your casually, “And who is this?”

“(Y/N),” Minnie answers.

“I see.”

The woman is smiling, but her eyes are regarding you coolly, as if she’s sizing you up. You just offer her a nervous smile, unsure who this is or why she knows the kid.

Hyunjin emerges from the kitchen then, timing perfect, a plate holding a large grilled sandwich in hand.

“Oh, hey, Judy,” he says, on his way past to give the couple their lunch.

Judy? This is the Judy that he mentioned earlier? Not to be ageist, you think, but she seems too old to be Hyunjin’s partner. But romantic relationship or not, you can understand why he apologized on her behalf; she’s already giving you incredibly intense vibes.

“(Y/N)’s picture goes on the wall with mine, okay, Judy?” Minnie says suddenly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Judy agrees, “Now, is someone going to tell me who this young lady is?”

Moving very quickly and pretending that he’s not, Hyunjin rejoins the three of you over in your corner, setting a comforting hand on Judy’s shoulder. You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it as a means of subtly holding her back.

“Min made friends with her at the store the other day after one of her famous mad dashes,” Hyunjin says. “And we figured the polite thing to do after that would be to invite her for a cup of coffee.”

“I see,” Judy says.

Her face softens at Hyunjin’s words, even though she’s still looking you over quizzically, like she can’t decide how to feel about you being there.

“Well, welcome,” she says, finally, “I’m Judy. This is my café.”

She extends her hand to shake, and you take it. Her hand is slim and pretty, heavy with a few jeweled rings and slightly roughened on the fingertips from hard work.

“She takes care of us,” Minnie pipes up.

“I try to,” Judy agrees. “They need all the help they can get.”

“I resent that!” Hyunjin says.

“But really, I just use this pretty face to attract customers,” Judy continues, waving a hand at Hyunjin.

He squawks his outrage, and you can’t help the smile that creeps over your face.

“The teens see this face and they come right in. It’s like magic,” Judy says, as if she’s being purposefully oblivious to how much she’s embarrassing him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” you say.

And you mean it, too. Hyunjin obviously has an unconventional support system going on, with this woman who he introduced by her first name and not by her relation to him. It leads you to believe they’re not blood-related or anything. It doesn’t really matter, though. She seems nice, if not a little protective.  

“Nice to meet you, too,” Judy says, with such heavy finality that you feel as though you’ve just cleared a hurdle.

And from the way Hyunjin’s whole body perks up at her words, maybe you have. Why do you get the feeling that this was the equivalent of a meeting-the-parents moment?

As quickly as the atmosphere had heightened, it settles back to the lazy calm it was before. Judy pats Minnie’s head fondly and disappears into the back of the café, not to reappear. Hyunjin returns to his work, and you take back up the task of neatly filling in the coloring page, careful not to upstage your tiny host and her not-quite-developed motor skills.

It’s a slow afternoon.

The young couple eats their lunch across the room, adding only a quiet hum of activity to your surroundings. Minnie tells you stories while you work, regaling you with the deep inner workings of preschooler life.

“Their names are Sage and Ginger!” she’s saying happily.

You haven’t been listening closely enough, clearly, because you’re stumped. “Whose names?”

“The babies!”

“What babies?”

“From Blue’s Clues & You,” she huffs.

Oh. You vaguely remember the original Blue’s Clues show, but you can’t say you know exactly what she’s talking about. Is she talking about…the sentient salt and pepper shakers? Do they have babies? Why do they have babies?!

“That’s cool,” you say, with level enthusiasm.

Minnie looks at you flatly, but accepts your words with a nod. “They’re cute. So little!”

It goes on like that, bits of kids’ programming trivia and input on your crayon color choices. The couple leaves, and you can see Hyunjin zeroing back in on you as he lets them out with a wave and a call to come back soon.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

You pick up your drawing, for him to see. You’ve been finished with it for a while now (it’s a children’s coloring book, so it’s not all that intricate) but you don’t want to appear unengaged, so you’ve been going over your lines and blurring out the crayon marks. His eyes crinkle up with joy at the sight of it.

“Done!” Minnie announces.

She brandishes her own drawing, too, and Hyunjin beams at the two of you with equal pride.

“Can I put these up?” he asks.

“Together,” says Minnie.

“You got it.”

He takes both rough-edged pages and whisks them away to the counter. Behind the register, on an expanse of wall, there’s a collection of doodles and coloring pages that you hadn’t noticed when you walked in. They must all be Minnie’s; the bold coloring strokes are all the same, her heavy hand immortalized in wax and marker and glitter pen.

Hyunjin tacks up the pictures side by side on the wall.

It’s the tiniest gesture in the world, really. You can’t even count how many scraps of paper, how many school notebooks and work memos that you’ve scribbled on over the course of your life. You’ve colored kids’ menus at restaurants, done detailed adult coloring books at mixers. Somehow, this one ragged coloring page tacked to the wall of a café seems like a turning point in your life.

You wonder when you got so sentimental. It’s silly, but it’s there; warm happiness in your chest.

When Minnie begins to wilt, saying in not so many words that she’s getting tired, you know that your playdate time is coming to an end. It’s only been an hour and a half, maybe two, but that’s an awful long time to keep such a young kid occupied on one activity. You’re proud of yourself, honestly.

“She’ll go down for a nap soon, before dinner,” Hyunjin tells you softly, “You can head out if you want. I don’t wanna monopolize your day.”

“I think I will,” you agree.

It’s been a nice time, but you’re not one to overstay your welcome.

You say goodbye to Minnie, who insists on giving you another crushing full-body hug, and you make it all the way to the door before you realize Hyunjin is following you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Walking you out,” he replies.

“I’m just going to my subway stop.”

“Then let me walk you to it,” he says.

You struggle to hold back your smile at his easy grace. “Okay, sure.”

The two of you set out into the afternoon, side by side, for the short walk from this inner part of the neighborhood to the metro stop that will take you back home. The breeze tugs at your skirt and ruffles Hyunjin’s apron, and you can’t help but sneak sidelong peeks at him as you walk.

“I hope Judy didn’t scare you too much,” he says.

“She’s intense. But I can tell that it’s out of love,” you reply.

He laughs at that, and you continue your slow meander down the unlined streets.

“She’s like an adoptive mom to me,” Hyunjin tells you. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“Oh,” you say, curious but knowing that you shouldn’t ask.

The two of you walk a while longer in your quiet bubble, but eventually, Hyunjin sighs.

“I don’t talk to my parents,” he says, “It’s not that crazy. Just how it is.”

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want, I understand.”

“And now I’m oversharing. Sorry,” he winces.

You shake your head, “It’s not a bother, I just won’t pry.”

Hyunjin considers this, and nods. “It’s just me and Min, so Judy’s been a livesaver. Mom and auntie and grandma all in one.”

Just him and Min, which means no wife and no serious girlfriend. That makes you feel a bit better. You’d hate to get in the way of a serious relationship, even indirectly. Minnie is a nice kid, and you like her, but you’re not her nanny or her babysitter or anything. You’d hate to be that kind of person, shoving yourself into a family where you have no business being.

“But…I wanted to know…would you wanna hang out again?” Hyunjin asks.

You laugh gently. “For Min? I’d walk into traffic. Yes, I’ll hang out again.”

“Not with Min,” Hyunjin says, voice soft and hesitant. “With me.”

The word that falls out of your mouth before you can stop it is, “Why?”

Hyunjin snorts, and then breaks out laughing, harder than you’ve ever heard him laugh.

“Because I think you’re cool?” he says eventually. “You’re cute and you like my kid, which is more than I can say about ninety percent of the people I meet.”

This was not part of the plan. Not that you had a plan, but come on. You were here to hang out with a super weird toddler, to entertain a precocious little girl because it’s cute and fun, not to be asked out by her dad. Her gorgeous dad, who’s so out of your league that it makes your head spin.

You spare a thought to wonder if he’s playing a prank on you.

“Unless…” Hyunjin draws away from you (when did he get so close?), “Unless you’re already seeing someone? God, I didn’t even think – I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, you cut in quickly, “No, I’m not-”

“Am I being weird? I’m being weird,” he laughs, and he almost sounds…nervous?

“You’re not being weird,” you assure him, “You just surprised me. I didn’t think…” 

“Then you’ll go out with me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself, “Yeah. I will.”

Hyunjin’s smile is the fucking sun coming up. It warms you right down to your toes.  

“I’ll call you,” he promises, “I’ll call and we can make plans.”

“Okay,” you agree.

The dimly-glowing sign marking the subway entrance looms ahead, and Hyunjin falls back, as you approach the down escalator.

“I’ll call you!” he says, again.

You wave as you go down the escalator, and once he’s out of sight, you practically melt. You have no idea why life is throwing you this curveball, but you’re not complaining.

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

True to form, it’s Minnie who calls you some days later. Not Hyunjin, the adult who presumably has control over the phone and has to dial the call. No, it’s the toddler whose voice filters over the line, the toddler who is undeniably and ultimately in control of her father’s whole world.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

“Are you supposed to be making calls?” you tease.

“It’s okay, I have a mission,” she tells you.

“A secret mission?”

“Maybe…” Minnie’s voice pulls away from the phone, and you can hear her shout, “Daddy! Is it a secret mission?!”

Hyunjin’s voice calls something in reply, and then Minnie returns.

“Yeah, a secret mission,” she says.

“What’s your mission?”

“We gotta know, do you like Japan food or Italy food better?”

“Hmmm,” you think out loud, “I think I just like food.”

“Me too,” Minnie agrees, “I just like food.”

There’s another shout from Hyunjin that you can’t make out.

“Daddy says it’s gonna be a s’prise, then,” Minnie reports.

“Surprises are fun,” you say.

“It’s okay?” she asks.

“It’s okay,” you confirm.

“Okay! I gotta go. Talk to you later!”

Minnie hangs up, and you burst out laughing so hard that tears pool at the corners of your eyes. She manages to make it sound like she has a high-powered meeting that you’re keeping her from. How does she hide all of that thirty-five-year-old boss energy in her cute little self?

But more important than the absurd circumstance of the call is the outcome. You’re going on a real date. With Hyunjin. You try to pretend that a whole swarm of butterflies haven’t hatched in your gut.

You have a date with Hyunjin.

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

The date goes well.

It goes incredibly well, in fact. If you thought Hyunjin was pretty and charming when he was in more domestic setting, with his kid and at his job, that was nothing compared to fully-focused-grownup Hyunjin on a date.

He dresses well, he’s funny and he’s gentle, he nearly cries because the dish you order to share is too spicy for him. He’s got all the puppylike charm of the young man that he is, and this underlying tired seriousness of the doting single father that he is.

You argue with him until he lets you split the bill for the meal, and he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips when he leaves you at your subway stop. It’s like a fairytale.

So you go out again, and again, and again, still. Sometimes it’s barbeque in your neighborhood, at an outdoor restaurant with great side dishes handmade by the older couple who own the place. Sometimes it’s just coffee and a long chat at a 24-hour café. You haven’t been to his home, yet, and he hasn’t been to yours, but it’s refreshing to just take things slowly with him, when the rest of life moves so fast.

Underneath the fun of being with Hyunjin, though, is the doubt.

Everything you see makes you more and more certain that he’s not a real person. He’s a dating sim come to life. He’s so good-looking that teenage girls stop to whisper and giggle about him, and passing aunties give him bold compliments. Dogs like him, service staff like him, little kids like him. And you understand it; you like him tremendously.

You’re not entirely sure why he likes you, though. Compared to him, you’re kind of reserved, kind of plain. It’s not that you don’t like yourself, but you’re a cottage to Hyunjin’s skyscraper, a woodwick candle to his disco ball. Just different realms entirely.

It doesn’t matter, you suppose, because regardless of his motivation or your understanding, you’re spending more and more time with Hyunjin, and Minnie.

You learn that it’s Hyunjin who does her hair every day, creating looks with pins and braids and tiny ponytails. He grew out his own hair to the length it is now to practice on, he tells you one day. You learn that Minnie only likes crunchy vegetables, raw carrots and the stems of lettuce, and that she can inexplicably eat much spicier food that her father can.

You’re comfortable being part of the mundane. But Hyunjin seems to have different aspirations for the two of you, in your casual and fluid relationship, still without titles or formalities.

“I want to take you somewhere nice.”

You glance up from your laptop, blinking to get the fuzziness out of your vision at you look at Hyunjin where he leans over the prep counter. It’s a weekend, but you have a pile of leftover work to get through before Monday, so you’ve set up camp at the café for the afternoon. Hyunjin is on shift, and he’s been slinging you snacks and coffees between customers. It’s been just the two of you, work obligations notwithstanding, and it’s been…domestic.

“This isn’t nice enough?” you quip.

“You know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes, “Like a real date.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying the first half dozen dates weren’t real?”

Hyunjin sticks out his thick lower lip in a pout. “What happened to the shy awkward person I met at the store? Bring her back, please, this (Y/N) is mean to me!”

You laugh. “Where did you want to go?”

“There’s this place I haven’t been to in years. It’s really nice, my aunt used to take us back when family outings were more my thing,” he says.

“Sounds okay,” you decide.

“You’d have to dress up,” he warns, “Like, for real. I’ll have to dig out a suit.”

“That’s fine.”

You turn your attention back to your laptop, trying to hide your flustered face at the idea of Hyunjin cleaning up extra nice for you, Hyunjin in a fitted suit and shined shoes. He might notice it anyway, though, if the smile that lights up his face as he turns back to the kitchen is any hint.

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

It’s decided that Hyunjin will pick you up from work and drive the two of you to your first fancy date. So that morning, you hitched a ride with a coworker so as not to strand your car at the office overnight, carrying your change of clothes in a bag. The downside of that was having to explain to your coworker what necessitated the change, and your team quickly found out that you have a date. The teasing hasn’t stopped all day, good-natured ribbing all during your shift, about stoic, shy supervisor (Y/N) going on a hot date with a mystery man.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your office’s nice bathroom, the one reserved for visitors who can’t pee with the staff. The one with potpourri on the counters and immaculate tile floors. You’ve gone for a menswear look yourself, wide-legged slacks and a silky blouse, and heels. Hyunjin’s already seen you in a nice dress, you figure, and besides, clinging to the businesswear that you already don at work gives you just a bit more nerve.

Somehow, a date at a nice restaurant that holds some sentimental value for him is more serious than anything you’ve ever done, more intimate than splitting cakes at the café and watching Minnie force the other kids to take turns on the slide at the playground.

You adjust your French tuck just a bit, make sure that your necklace hangs neatly, and deem yourself as good as you’re gonna get. You walk out of the bathroom, bag now holding your work clothes tucked under your arm, only to see a whole group of your production team boys waiting for you.

The company where you work is a decently large tech manufacturing plant, and as a production manager, you oversee a team of techs and assembly workers who tend to be on the younger side, and much more often are young men close to your age. They’re all nice boys who you’re quite close to, but they’ve already been on your case all day. Several of them are right here in the hall, now, ready to make fun of you the way that annoying little brothers are meant to do.

“Jeez, (Y/N), out for blood,” says Taehyun, his silica filter mask hanging off one ear.

“Don’t be gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s true, you’re really going all out for this date, huh?” adds Jeongin.

“Quit it before I vom and then report you all to HR,” you say.

“Oh, come on,” says Taehyun, “I’ve worked for you for like two years and I’ve never seen you have fun on purpose before.”

“That can’t be true,” you argue, walking toward the front of the building with your little line of assembly-boy ducklings following behind.

“On your birthday, you asked us to get you a firm handshake and a new set of pages for your planner,” Jeongin deadpans.

“You’re Ron Swanson with tits,” Jaemin says.

“Charming,” you glance at him, and he shrugs.

“It’s true.”

Car headlights shine in the picture windows that span the front of your building, and you can make out a small red car sitting in the visitor’s parking right by the door.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” you implore the boys, as you haul open the heavy glass door to let yourself out.

“We would never do that,” Jeongin says, defensive.

“Maybe we should talk to your date, though,” Jaemin suggests, “Rough him up a little.”

“Yeah, please don’t ever do that,” you say, “I’m leaving now.”

The driver’s side window is rolled down, and you can see Hyunjin leaning out, waving to you. You walk around to the passenger’s side of the car as fast as you can, giving your stupid underlings as little time as possible to ruin things.

You slide into the seat and slam the door behind you right as you hear one of the boys yell, “GET HER HOME SAFE. BY TEN.”

“Oh my God, go, drive away,” you groan.

“Who are they?” Hyunjin asks, amused, as he backs out of the parking spot.

“They work for me,” you say. “They wanna intimidate you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They must really like you,” he says.

“No, they just really like being annoying.”

Hyunjin laughs, glancing at you as he maneuvers onto the main road.

“You look really great,” he says, sounding a little bit shy.

“Thanks.”

“The restaurant isn’t far,” Hyunjin says, “But I wanted to look cool and drive you.”

“I already think you’re cool,” you tease.

“Well if you’d told me that before, we could have called a cab,” he says.

“Nah, I wanted to see your car,” you say, turning around in your seat to get a full view of the interior, “Big pink carseat and all.”

“Min’s constantly telling me to just get a pink car to match,” Hyunjin says, “I don’t know if I could pull that off, though.”

“With your good looks and princess hair? I think you could.”

“Good to know. Next car, pink,” he says.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying about the restaurant being close by, because the whole drive is less than fifteen minutes. You’ve barely relaxed when he pulls up to the street parking outside a modest building with a pretty marquee and rough brick siding.

“This is it?” you ask, peeking out at the building.

“Yep.”

You scrutinize the restaurant as two of you get out of the car, and you can tell instantly that it’s an upscale place. Everything from the valet in front to the fabric of the curtains reeks of steaks that cost a paycheck and truffles in every possible dish. You’re kind of excited for it.

The maître-d greets you warmly, and brings you to a table against the window, with a view into a small back garden full of lanterns and lit trellises. The table itself is a delicate wooden thing, with full-course silverware and origami napkins. Candles dance on the tabletop, a single red rose in a vase brightening the whites and silvers of it all.

Hyunjin must know a thing or two about romance, because you’re properly wowed. It’s so stereotypically wonderful, it makes for a great sixth-or-seventh date. You’ve known him long enough that you know he’s not trying to blindly impress you, but just to treat you.

You wonder what kind of family he has, that they would bring him to a place like this as a kid or a teenager.

When the waitress, a pretty young woman in server’s blacks, comes over, the two of you order from the set menu and argue only a little about what dishes to taste and what wine to have.

“They’re barely Brussels sprouts,” you’re saying, “They’re covered in oil and bacon and shit.”

“They’re green vegetables,” he counters.

“They’re gourmet, don’t be a baby.”

Starters come and quickly disappear.

The main course comes, and by this point, you’re a glass or so of wine deep, and Hyunjin is only looking more and more handsome, as your stomach starts to be comfortably filled and the drinks warm you up from the inside.

Hyunjin’s gazing at you between bites of his dinner, expression so soft that you wonder if he’s gonna lean right across the table to kiss you. It’s tender, it’s lovely, and it’s unlike any other date you’ve ever had.

But a woman’s shrill, furious voice shatters the entire atmosphere with a single sharpened word.

“Hyunjin?!”

It’s almost comical, the way Hyunjin freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyes wide and startled. It’s only almost comical, because this emotion seems to be very real fear on his part. He keeps his eyes on his plate, but you look toward the sound.

There’s a woman approaching your table, thin and elegant and beautiful. She’s got only the faintest age lines on her perfectly made-up face, and her clothes are designer, a plum-colored dress that brushes her knees and a handbag worth more than your whole closet. She doesn’t even spare you a glance, zeroing in on Hyunjin as she comes to stand right beside the table, puffed up in self-righteous anger like a provoked bird.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” she barks.

Hyunjin turns his head so slowly that you wonder if he’s even moving at all, until finally he’s looking at her.

“Of all the places – what on EARTH are you doing?!” she asks him, tone stiff and angry.

It’s the kind of tone that you can imagine her using to yell at waitstaff, or berate the hotel bellhop.  She’s that kind of wealthy, you can just tell. You’ve been dodging people like this your whole adult life, working your way up in the tech field, littered with its new and old money. You glance at Hyunjin, but the urgency in his face tells you to hold your tongue.

“I’m eating,” he says finally.

“Your aunt told me you were still in the city,” she says, “I can’t IMAGINE what you’ve been up to that you haven’t had time to even call, the nerve-”

“Mother,” Hyunjin says evenly, “You’re interrupting a nice time.

Mother. This is Hyunjin’s mother?

As if she’s just noticed that you’re there, she rounds on you. “And who is this?”

The disgust in her voice makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. It’s been a long while since someone has been so openly dismissive of you. Not since you were a student, you think, but God does it hurt.

“This is my date,” Hyunjin answers.

His words are clipped, like he really doesn’t want to say more.

“Well, obviously,” his mother sniffs, condescending, “What is her NAME?”

“You don’t get to know that,” Hyunjin says.

You know that Hyunjin is distant with his parents. He’s mentioned that they don’t talk anymore, and that they don’t really know his daughter at all. But it speaks volumes that he doesn’t even want his mother to know your name.

“And where did you meet this shining example of gilt wood pretending to be gold?” she asks, “The community center? The food bank?”

“There’s no need to be mean,” Hyunjin says, much more calmly than you would be able to, “We’re trying to have dinner. You should leave.”

“I’ve finished my meal. I’m on my way out,” his mother says haughtily, “But I saw you and I needed to come say something.

“No, don’t let us keep you,” Hyunjin says, gesturing toward the exit with his still-full fork.

“Hyunjin, when are you going to give up this ridiculous act and come back to make things right?” she asks, and though the tone is sincere, there’s no warmth behind it.

“Never,” he replies, “Things are just the way I want them.”

This woman, in her all finery and dignified air, stamps her foot on the ground like a child having a tantrum.

“You’re making a mockery of our family, you know that, yes?” she asks.

“You’re the one yelling at me and embarrassing yourself in a restaurant full of people,” Hyunjin points out.

“You are an aggravating and ungrateful child,” his mother hisses.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin agrees, “But I’m happy.”

Perhaps sensing that she’s starting to make a scene, his mother glances around at the other patrons, who are trying to hide the way they’re listening in with varying levels of success. Your waitress is lingering by the edge of the service floor, eyes glued on the scene.

“You’ll come to your senses,” she promises darkly. “And you’ll come begging for my help. We’ll see if I take pity on you then.”

And with that, she turns around and stalks toward the exit, not even pausing as she barks at the valet to bring her ride around. You watch until she’s outside and out of sight, and then you focus on Hyunjin.

His hands are shaking so badly that his fork clatters against his plate. You reach out and cover his hand with yours, easing the fork out of his grip and laying it down. You feel horrible, and kind of sick, but you know that between the two of you, Hyunjin is worse, so you have to push that discomfort down, just for a while.

“Let’s finish our dinner, okay?” you say, “And then we can talk about this.”

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

The rest of the date isn’t agonizing, but it is uncomfortable. You chat, and joke, albeit without the same easy grace as before. Seeing his mother, and having her speak to both of you that way has really seemed to rattle Hyunjin more than a confrontation usually would.

You settle the tab, splitting it like you always do, and then you find yourselves on a bench outside the restaurant, set away from the main road. It’s dark, and it’s chilly, but it’s comfortable with the gentle atmospheric music from the restaurant marquee and the sounds of traffic.

“Min’s mom wasn’t ready for a baby.”

You glance at Hyunjin at the sound of his voice. He’s fiddling with the cuffs of his blazer, still looking distinctly unsettled.

“Neither of us were,” he amends.

“Was she a hookup?” you ask.

“A girlfriend,” he says, “But not…she was just a girl from a good family. Someone my parents thought would be a good match, so we dated for a long time.”

“A good match,” you repeat, “A good match for you?”

“A good match for the family,” he says bitterly.

“What does that matter?”

“Oh, it matters. Way more than what I want,” he says.

“They’re really rich, aren’t they?” you ask, thinking about his mother’s clothes, and her attitude, and pretty much everything about her, “Your parents, I mean.”

“Disgustingly rich.”

“Oh.”

“She’s a really nice girl, a good person. But she really didn’t want to be with me forever, and she certainly didn’t want a kid,” Hyunjin says.

“So what happened?” you ask.

“She broke things off when she got pregnant, which made both of our families pissed beyond belief. The proper thing to do would have been to get married, right? But instead she ended the relationship, and moved home,” Hyunjin says, “They took care of Min for like a year and a half, her parents and a nanny.”

“Not the mom?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “She just didn’t want a kid. Which is okay, more than okay. Our parents were the ones who wanted to keep the pregnancy, not her. I just wanted everyone to stop fighting.”

You just nod. Hyunjin is keeping this story so purposefully vague, not dropping names or placing blame or really showing any anger. You wonder how much time he’s spent thinking about this story, or telling it in different ways. He seems almost desensitized to it all.

“When Min was almost two, her mom asked if I would take on full custody so she could sign away her parental rights and be out of the picture for good. And I figured,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, “I figured, better to have one parent that loves you the most than two while one is half-assing it.”

“No, I can see that,” you say.

“Minnie lived with me at my parents’ house until they realized that my ex was never coming back. They always figured we’d get back together.”

“Why?!” you ask, incredulous.

Hyunjin looks at you. “Because that would be the dutiful thing to do. Get married, stay together for the kid, avoid any embarrassing attention on the families.”

“Even if that meant you were both miserable forever?”

Hyunjin turns his gaze back at the ground, sighing. “My parents said they wouldn’t support me if I couldn’t even do that one thing right and convince my ex to do right by the families and marry me. But I wasn’t gonna force her. She’s a good person. just in over her head, and scared. And I can’t blame her for that. I can’t forgive her. But I understand.”

“So, what, they kicked you out?”

“Kicked me out, cut me off,” Hyunjin nods. “I used to be set for life, with their money to back me up. I could have fucked around forever, lived comfy. They took it all away because I wouldn’t marry a girl who didn’t love me and just wanted to live her own life.”

“You’re a good person,” you say.

“It was an easy choice,” he quips, some of his usual humor returning now that he’s gotten the stress of his story out of his mind, “Either my parents, who only love me conditionally, or my daughter, who loves the biggest and best out of anyone ever.”

You laugh, but you can’t shake the new strange feeling that has settled over you, now that you know all of this about him. Knowing that Hyunjin is the rejected son of a wealthy family, a silver-spoon kid with a heart of gold. It only validates some of those nagging feelings that in some unavoidable way, Hyunjin is far, far too good for you.

He’s given up a life of luxury and security for his daughter, and his freedom. You’re not about to make him compromise on anything else, ever. At all.

“Min doesn’t even miss any of them,” Hyunjin says thoughtfully, “Doesn’t even ask.”

“That’s good, I guess,” you say.

He shrugs. “Means that she’s not too fucked up from bouncing around like that as a baby, which is a fuckin’ blessing.”

“She’s safe and happy with you now, though,” you say.

Hyunjin grins at you. “But you know who’s been a great parent influence on her?”

“Who?”

“You.”

You laugh. “I’m no parent, trust me.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty great with her,” he says airily, “I don’t trust my kid with just anyone.”

“You gotta stop being so nice to me,” you say. “You’re gonna give me ideas.”

“Ideas like what? Afraid I’ll wanna take you out on a date? Introduce you to my kid? Oh wait-”

“Shut up!” you whine, nudging him. “I just…can’t believe you like me, sometimes. Like, that you really like me, like this.”

“Of course, I like you,” Hyunjin says, dumbfounded, “We’ve been going out for weeks.”

“Yeah, and that only started because Min told you that she wanted to be friends with me.”

“Did you really think that I got your number that day because I wanted you to be friends with my three-year-old?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yes!” you answer, totally honest, “Yes, I did. I think that you would do anything in the world for that kid, even something stupid like inviting me out.”

You stand up, suddenly needing some space, some air that isn’t warm from Hyunjin’s presence by your side or scented with his soft cologne. He just watches as you pace a few short steps away from the bench.

“It was maybe twenty percent because she was being so cute with you,” he says desperately, “But the other eighty percent was for me.”

You can’t believe that. Sure, part of you hoped for it, because it’s truly so insane to just let your preschooler make friends with random women in public. It makes sense for him to have an ulterior motive. You’d hoped that it was really him who was interested, even if he just intended to hook up with you and then cut it off.

It’s beyond obvious to you that you’ve fallen hard for Hyunjin, even in just this short time. The idea of him feeling anything like that for you is much harder to fathom.

“I know you care about me, at least a little,” Hyunjin says, standing up to join you, “At least, I hope you do. Something, some chance that you like me as more than a friend, or a casual date…”

“I do,” you say, voice strangled and tiny, “But you…you’re-”

“I’m what? I’m a father already? I have too much baggage for you?”

Your heart breaks a little bit more as he says that, as you imagine other people in the past dumping him with those exact words. The conviction in his voice is all that you need to picture it; a different person, a different night, the same outcome.

“No!” you insist.

“Then what?”

You bite the bullet, and you say it. “Because you’re beautiful, Hyunjin. You’re perfect. You have a wonderful kid and a nice life that you’ve built for her and yourself after all of that shit you went through. You…you’re too good for me.”

Hyunjin recoils like he’s been slapped. “How can you think that?”

“I just look at your life, and I can’t possibly picture you moving things around just to fit me in,” you say.

“How can you think that there’s not already space for you?! Can’t you see that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time?” he asks.

“Because I’m…” you struggle, “I’m boring, Hyunjin, I don’t know! I’m not worth changing for.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffs. “You’re letting my mother get to you, which is just what she wants.”

“Then I’m just not right for you,” you say, trying to ignore his comment about his mother and how absolutely right it is. “You have this cute little picturesque life, and I have my normal job and my hobbies and my family and friends and I would just…be in the way.”

“You’re not in the way now,” Hyunjin says.

“We’re not a serious couple now!”

“Why can’t you just let me like you?!”

He’s practically yelling now, keeping his distance and nearly folding in on himself as he looks at you with eyes that are far too shiny. It’s not the yelling that gets to you, but what he’s saying.

“Because it’s scary!” you yell back. “I don’t want to lose you, or your kid, but I know that-”

“I can show you,” he pleads.

He draws in a little closer, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you. Against your stubborn brain’s protests, you reach out to thread your fingers with his.

You don’t want to lose him.

But as disgusting and cliché and self-deprecating as it is, you just can’t fathom someone like him wanting to be with someone like you.

Hyunjin leans more fully into your gentle grasp, pulls you right up close to him so that the two of you are toe to toe, there on the street outside the restaurant, as cars pass by and streetlights cast their dim yellow light over it all. He’s looking right into your eyes, expression firm and warm and so, so Hyunjin. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you scan his face for nervousness or insincerity, and find none.

He’s looking at you the way he looks at Minnie when she falls asleep on the couch watching Frozen 2 for the millionth time. The way he looks at Judy when her back is turned in the café.

“I’ll show you that I mean it,” he says again, “I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you the way that you’ve supported us. I’ll love-”

He can’t get to the end of that sentence, because you wrench your free arm around his neck and pull him down to kiss you. He startles, lets go of your hand, and you freeze, thinking you’ve miscalculated the situation and gone too far. But he recovers quickly, wrapping both arms around your waist. He adjusts you so that you’re flush against him, and kisses back, harder.

His plush lips are wine-sour and soft, and he molds them against yours like he’s starving for it.

“My place,” he says, pulling back just the slightest bit so he can speak, “My place.”

“But-”

“Min is at Judy’s for the night,” he says, “Please.”

You want to. You want to so badly that your head is spinning, that your heart is beating out a rhythm against your ribcage. He’s here in front of you, wrapped up in you, so handsome and so unattainable…

Well. You think that Hyunjin is making a mistake. But if he’s gonna make it, you’re gonna enjoy every minute of it.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay, or yes?” Hyunjin says, “I need a real yes.”

You hesitate. You decide. You say it.

“Yes.”

Just like that, he’s pulling you down the road to his car and opening the passenger’s side door for you. His place is across the city from here, so you settle in for what’s sure to be the most impatient car ride of your life. Anticipation drags out the minutes, as the energy between you grows so tense that you’re sure one of you is going to snap and start things up before you even get there.

But you’re spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of his building before you know it, Hyunjin’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you.

You’ve been to his place before, to meet him outside for dates, but you’ve never gone inside before. It’s a regular villa building, boxy and painted a demure white, and he leads you up the metal stairs to the third floor.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything,” Hyunjin says uncertainly, as he unlocks the door.

“I know,” you say, “I wouldn’t have come up if I didn’t want…well…”

Hyunjin grins his understanding, and you follow him into the apartment, taking his lead as he kicks off his shoes. You peek around when he flips on the lights.

His home looks about the way you’d expect: modest-sized and full of plain, sturdy furniture that looks like it could take a few hits. The décor is understated, intending to be an atmosphere of minimalist modernism, except that a girly, demanding preschooler definitely lives here. Drawings cover the fridge, the corkboard on the wall, the dining table with its one normal chair and one pink booster seat. Toys, hair accessories, and art supplies sit on shelves, in baskets, on end tables.

“It’s cute,” you say.

“Hm?”

Hyunjin pops his head out of the kitchen, now sans blazer, where he’s switching on more lights. He obviously has a just-gotten-home routine, and he’s not about to abandon it just because you’re here.

“This place. It’s cute,” you repeat. “It suits you.”

“It’s small,” he says with a shrug, tossing his blazer onto the back of the couch, “But we each have a bedroom and that’s really all that I can ask for. You ever shared a bedroom with a toddler? Not cool.”

“I’d like to see your room,” you tease, cringing at yourself instantly for making the dumbest of the dumb jokes.

But Hyunjin’s expression is just dangerously joyful, like he’s really taking it to heart.

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” he says.

“Sounds like you’re plotting.”

“I did tell you that I would prove it to you,” he says, drawing in close to you again, “How much I care about you.”

“The only way you know how to do that is with sex?” you ask playfully, “That’s sad. Maybe expand your vocabulary, first.”

He looks down at you, amused and just slightly frustrated. “Why can’t you make this easy for me?”

“Nothing with me is easy,” you say, “You should get used to that.”

“I dunno. You’re kind of easy to love.”

There he goes again, with that word. You can feel your cheeks burning, unable to process such casual affection from someone you like so much.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“As much as you want,” he promises.

You slot yourself comfortably into his arms and lean up to kiss him. He’s got such ridiculous plush lips, soft and sliding against yours, and he holds you like you’re something precious. It’s an overwhelming amount of attention, but you let yourself bask in it.

“C’mon,” he says, “I’ll give you that tour.”

He winks, and then he releases you, walking across the small living space toward the doors on the far wall. Following him is second nature, at this point, and you pad after him.

“This is Min’s room,” he tells you.

He cracks the door on the right, so that you can see a peek of the pink explosion on the other side.

“She picked all her own décor,” he says.

“I’m starting to think that pink is just your favorite color, and you’re using the kid as an excuse,” you say.

“You’ll never get me to admit it,” he grins.

He opens the door on the left, and this room is soft woods and earth tones. Definitely an adult’s room, almost stark in its lack of personal effects. It’s dark except for city lights filtering between the open curtains, casting the room into a seductive kind of shadow. You follow him into the room, grinning to yourself.

“Bed looks comfy,” you say.

Hyunjin sits down on the edge of the bed, strong thighs in dress pants drawing your eye shamefully quickly, and fixes you with a look.

“Come find out,” he offers.

You can’t keep being so self-conscious about this. It’s Hyunjin, it’s only Hyunjin, your friend. One of your dearest friends. With his supermodel face, and his long blonde hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps around his cheekbones, and the outline of his cock against his thigh-

Fuck.

Something in you snaps. You climb into his lap, settling yours knees on either side of his hips, winding your arms around his neck to pull his mouth back against yours. He laughs into the kiss, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you down harder into him.

“See?” he says, voice low, “It’s not so hard to open up to me, is it?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” you mutter.

“You’re so mean to yourself,” Hyunjin chides.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “I can be mean to you instead.”

He just laughs again, grinding his hips up into you briefly. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, distinct even through the layers of clothes that separate the two of you.

“Can this come off?” he asks, plucking at the collar of your nice silky blouse.

“Yeah.”

His answering smile is dark and satisfied, conniving in a way that makes your pulse jump. Hyunjin is so calm and sweet most of the time, cheerful in a way that suggests naivety. You almost worry about him, sometimes, worry that to other he’ll come across as just pretty and dim. Why are you getting the feeling that you’ve stumbled across a very different part of him, tonight?

“D’you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he asks, against your collarbone, as he unbuttons your blouse down your chest, down your stomach.

“How long?”

“Too long. Way too long.

He’s pushing your shirt off your shoulders before you know it, reaching around to unhook your bra. His hands are firm and certain, the stumbling hesitation that he’d shown while asking you out nowhere to be found. Here, apparently, he’s absolutely comfortable.

Your shirt and bra are discarded carelessly, and you’re surprised that you feel no shyness at all when Hyunjin cups your breasts in his hands and thumbs over your nipples.

“Knew you’d be pretty,” he says.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

He gives you another one of those feline grins.

“Watch it,” he warns.

Hyunjin hooks one arm around your back and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top, all but dragging you up to the middle of the bed. You’re sprawled on your back under him now, bouncing gently on the mattress with the force that he’d used to move you.

“You’re even prettier like this,” he smirks, “I like the slacks, by the way, very professional. I didn’t tell you that earlier.”

“Thanks,” you reply, breathing heavy, unsure how to handle this new Hyunjin and his blinding confidence.

“Can those come off, too?”

“What about your clothes?” you whine.

“We’ll get to that,” he promises.

He only needs one hand to unbutton, unzip, and tug your slacks down to your knees in one fluid motion, and he move aside so you can kick them off all the way.

“These are so you,” Hyunjin says.

You’re confused, until you look down yourself to see the panties you’d put on that morning: light blue with a pattern of tiny white running llamas. They’re not all that sexy, but they’re comfy, and it’s not like you’d explicitly planned on anyone seeing them, date or no date.

“I wasn’t expecting to get fucked tonight,” you say bluntly, “Give me a break.”

“Should have at least hoped for it,” he grins.

“I try to keep my expectations realistic.”

“You need to give yourself more credit,” Hyunjin says.

To punctuate it, he leans down over you fully, caging you in, and kisses you breathless again. He trails his mouth and hands down your front lazily, scraping his teeth against your hipbone where it peeks from the waistband of your underwear. He lets one long finger trace over your panties, across your covered pussy, and you can’t help how you twitch.

“Bet you’re fuckin’ delicious, too. Am I gonna get to taste?” he asks.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan.

The mouth on him…you’ve never had someone talk to you like this before, so tender and affectionate but also so obscene. It sends arousal pealing through you, the idea that he can be so into this, into you.

“Use your words,” he says, “Come on, can I taste you?”

“Yes,” you say, “God, Hyunjin…”

“Oh, I like how my name sounds, like that, listen to you,” he purrs.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties off smoothly. Those are abandoned over the edge of the bed, too, and Hyunjin has his face between your legs seemingly as fast as he can.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he says, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs.

“I will,” you say, “Don’t worry.”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, and he licks into you indulgently.

He’s got one hand bracing himself against your leg, one hand holding your folds open for him so he can dip his tongue into your opening, drag it slow across your clit.

“Fuck,” he says, and you swear you can feel the word against you, “Can’t wait to feel this sweet pussy around my dick.”

You moan. You can’t help it, can’t help the way you’re leaking your arousal against his tongue, the way his words and his gorgeous mouth are working you over. He pulls away from your core much too quickly, and he smiles when you whine.

“Just a taste, I said,” he placates.

He sits back on his heels between your legs to strip off his own clothes, but you haul yourself up to meet him.

“Let me do it,” you say.

“Be my guest.”

So it’s your turn to undo his buttons and give yourself an unencumbered look at his body for the first time. He’s slim, working muscle like a dancer, gorgeous skin under your hands. You kind of want to take your time, leave marks all over him and get to know every inch. But it does seem like he has an agenda tonight, as he impatiently shrugs off his shirt and undoes his own belt.

He rids himself of his pants and underwear quickly, and you really should have expected him to have a cock like THAT. He’s tall, and pretty, and of course, this part of him matches perfectly, long and thick and beautifully flushed.

“I’m clean,” you find yourself saying, “And on birth control, so if you want…we can…”

Hyunjin grins at you. “You just want me to fuck you raw.”

“I do,” you agree, “Fuck, I do.”

“I’m clean, too,” he tells you.

He nudges your legs apart to make room for him as he crawls back up your body, giving you a gentle playful shove so that you lay flat on your back for him again.

“Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up, just like this?”

He’s looming over you, propping himself up with his hands planted on either side of your head. You can feel the tip of his cock nudging between your folds.

“That’s what I want,” you agree desperately. “Please.”

You don’t know why you’re begging him like this. Are you that easy to break?

But you can’t bring yourself to care how ridiculous you sound, because Hyunjin rocks his hips forward to dip the head of his cock into you, and you keen.

“What do you want?” he asks, with a knowing smirk.

“You know exactly what!”

“I can’t give you anything unless you tell me,” he says.

“I want,” you struggle, “I want you to fill me up. Please.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praises gently.

He rewards you with another thrust, a little deeper, sending a fantastic thrill through your body but still nowhere near enough. He works himself into you slowly, just a bit at a time, pulling completely out in between just to be able to sink all the way back in.

After what seems like an eternity, he slides in completely, hips flush against yours. You squirm, needing him to do SOMETHING, after taking his sweet time to get to this point, but Hyunjin seems content to just sit like this for a moment.

“I was right,” he tells you, “Feels fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Move, please,” you beg.

“Be patient. Maybe I just want you to cockwarm me for the rest of the night,” he teases.

“I would go home,” you say.

He laughs. “Okay, okay, you got me, that’s not what I want.”

So slowly that you know he’s doing it on purpose to torture you, Hyunjin draws back and fucks into you, hard and deep. It coaxes a punched-out moan from your throat, already so strung out though you’ve just begun.

He’s stronger than you would have imagined, driving into you with those narrow dancer’s hips and leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, your mouth, the sides of your throat. His hands roam like he wants to be touching all of you at once: kneading into your breast, smoothing back your hair, bending your legs up farther so he can fuck you deeper, better.

“Look how well you take me,” he says.

You do look. You crane your neck up to look down the narrow space between you, as Hyunjin props up his body above you, and you can just barely see his thick cock working into you, disappearing with an obscene squelch that leaves no question about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

“So messy,” he teases.

“’m not messy,” you mumble, feeling sex-stupid but indignant.

“No?” he grins, “Not dripping wet for me?”

You want to argue, but he’s right; you can feel exactly how wet you are for him. You can’t remember the last time someone had you so desperate, so ready and eager to take what you’re given. Hyunjin falls forward to let your bodies press together, covering you and pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Sweet girl,” Hyunjin murmurs, voice soft and fond and dangerous, “So good for me. So good with my kid. We could give her a sibling, you know.”

It sounds like something that just slipped out, the way that it’s so honest and the way that Hyunjin nearly gasps at himself. But your mind has gone one hundred percent completely blank. You let out a moan that’s mostly silent, as you let the implication of that wash over you.

You didn’t think you had a thing for, well…this.

But Hyunjin, looking at you like this, talking like this, honest and filthy, right in your ear. You know that it’s just dirty talk, that he doesn’t mean it, not right this instant. You both know that you’re on birth control. But the game of it, the idea of it…

“Yes,” you gasp, “Oh my God-”

“Oh, you REALLY like that,” he purrs, “I can feel you squeezing around me.”

“Hyunjin!” you moan.

“Is that what you want, baby? You just wanna be filled up with my cum, is that it?”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, and you doubly can’t believe how much you fucking love them, how you’re nodding and clawing your fingernails down his back at the picture he’s painting for you.

“Please,” you gasp, “I want – I want-”

Hyunjin draws up so that he can look into your eyes. “Baby wants me to give her a baby. Hm.”

Never in your life have you been brought right to the point of cumming just from someone’s words, but that’s exactly what’s happening. You can feel that perfect fuzzy electricity in your toes, building up. If you cum untouched, just from this, you’re gonna have some real soul-searching to do.

He seems to be at a similar place, fucking into you at a breakneck pace, still murmuring at you mindlessly.

“Want to fill up this sweet pussy, put a baby in you…Jesus fucking Christ, so good,” Hyunjin moans.

“Inside,” you agree, “Please – I need you, I just-”

As if he couldn’t be more perfect, Hyunjin slips his hand between you, presumably to bring you over the peak with him. The instant his finger presses against your clit, starts to rub a messy circle in the wetness spreading across your folds and your inner thighs, you cum.

You feel like screaming, but your voice is strangled, constricted with arousal, “Oh-”

“Fuck!” Hyunjin moans, like he’s agreeing with you.

One, two, three, four deep strokes, and Hyunjin bottoms out, pressing into you as he cums. Your hips buck into him on their own accord as he paints your walls with his cum, and you can’t help the newly-awakened corner of your mind that thinks about what could happen, if you weren’t on your birth control, if you did this again…

Goddamn. You really have some journaling to do later, or something.

“So perfect,” Hyunjin mutters, letting his head fall, burying his face in your shoulder, “So fucking perfect, how did I get so lucky?”

You’re the lucky one, you think to yourself. Your brain is simultaneously too full and too empty to say anything coherent, so you just lay there, wrap your limbs around Hyunjin as well as you can. He gets the message, you think, because he snuggles more firmly into you and turns his head to press a kiss to your jaw.

He’s warm, and kind of heavy, but you don’t want him to move, or to pull out of you. Just let this minute last a little longer, you think. Just a little longer, before you have to talk about what all of this means.

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

You only know you’ve fallen asleep when you wake up.

There’s a weight on your chest, pressing you into the mattress. For a second you think you have sleep paralysis, until you get a face-full of blonde hair and realize that it’s just Hyunjin, fast asleep on top of you.

“Get up,” you say, pushing on him gently, “And, ew, let me clean up.”

You can feel his cum drying on the inside of your thighs, where it trickled out around his softened cock while you slept. It’s kind of nasty, but the memory of all the hazy lust-filled things you said to each other makes you not mind so much.

Hyunjin yawns audibly, right next to your head, and then he peels himself off you.

“Sorry,” he grins. “Are your arms asleep?”

“No. Doesn’t your neck hurt from laying like that?”

He presses a smacking kiss to your forehead. “No. You’re a good pillow.”

Hyunjin pulls out of you and climbs gingerly off the bed. You squint around the room until your eyes find a glowing digital clock on his bedside; it’s only just past midnight.

“Shower and then sleep?” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good.”

He helps you to your feet, laughing as your knees threaten to buckle despite the cooldown period you’ve had.

“I hope I didn’t cross any lines,” he says tentatively, “I took a risk with all that baby talk and-”

“I liked it,” you admit, shy.

“Really?”

You nod. “I mean, we shouldn’t do anything stupid. Not right now. But just to play with, in the bedroom…”

Grinning, you fan yourself dramatically with your hand, like you’re a proper lady being overwhelmed with the saucy behavior of your male paramour.

Hyunjin laughs again. “Good to know.”

He shows you across the hall to the bathroom, men’s hair and skin and shaving products lined up next to rainbow-packaged kiddie shampoo and a small bin full of bath toys. As the shower is warming up, steam and the sound of rushing water filling the bathroom, he nudges you with his elbow.

“I knew all along that you were just into me because I have a kid,” he says.

You consider it, as you pull back the shower curtain and test the water. It’s warm, so you draw the curtain fully back and step under the spray. Peeking out at him, water starting to run down your back and warm your skin the way that Hyunjin’s presence warms you on the inside, you smile.

“Guess you’re just a DILF.” 

💕💕💕💕

[theartofbeinganerd]

the most worthwhile of journeys (is taken with you)

Hello, yes, it’s May 15th again, which means I’m posting another birthday fic - though, this year, it’s from Jemma’s POV. It’s also a bit different from the fic I wrote last year, Rising of the Second Sun, but I think that’s the point?? I’m not sure anymore, this was finished a lot later than I planned and it’s two am, bear with me.

Also, I guestimated when Fitzsimmons got married, since we don't know the actual date and the MCU timeline is a mess.

Also also, I'm not completely happy with the title, but I've been trying to think of one for almost an hour and this is the best I've got - it's my birthday, I should get a free pass anyway.

Anyway, set Academy Era through post Season Five

(Ao3)

-

“I’m hungry – can’t we go get something to eat? It’s nearly dinner time!” Fitz complains with a  groan, breaking abruptly into the silence of Jemma’s dorm room, where they’ve been spending their Saturday lounging on her bed and studying for their upcoming finals.

Darting a glance at her watch, Jemma rolls her eyes and tells him sharply, “Ugh Fitz, it’s only two-thirty!”

It’s been almost six months since Jemma had found herself paired up with Fitz in chem class, and a little over five months since Fitz had given up their rivalry and stopped ignoring her, finally starting to talk to her instead. Though she had enjoyed the bit of healthy competition, she very much prefers being Fitz’s partner and friend to being his rival – even when he gets on her nerves.

“I’m wasting away!” he insists, closing the textbook he’d been scanning through, tucking his notebook in between the pages to save his place. “Seriously, I think my imminent death by starvation is more important than studying for finals that we aren’t taking for another month.”

With an exasperated sigh, Jemma leans over the side of her bed, rooting around beneath it for a moment before coming back with a box of granola bars that she’d stashed there with this exact scenario in mind. “Here. And as I keep telling you, Fitz, you can never start studying too soon!”

“Oh yes you can,” he argues, digging through the box until he’s plucked a granola bar from it. He makes a bit of a face at the food (which is probably a much healthier snack than he’d been searching for), but ultimately tears open the wrapper and takes a bite. She only gives an irritated little huff in response, and around the granola in his mouth, he teases, “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me – I forgot that you were in a committed relationship with all things academic.”

Narrowing her eyes at the playful dig, Jemma draws her right foot back to kick him in the shin – which is, conveniently, right by her feet – delighting in the yelp it draws out of him. “There,” she says satisfactorily, offering him a winning smile, “now eat your granola bar and be quiet, Fitz.”

But, Fitz does nothing of the sort. Instead, he drops the granola bar entirely, reaching out to cover his shin protectively with both hands as he whines, “Ow! Simmons, you – I think you’ve broken my leg! I…I…” Then, he drops dramatically back onto the mattress, holding a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my poor, poor leg!”

Though Jemma thinks that Fitz is being absolutely ridiculous, his theatrics have a huge smile spreading across her lips as she delivers another little kick to his leg, warning him a lot less firmly than she’d intended to, “Be serious, Fitz!” He lets out a pathetic little moan in response, and she has to press her lips together to stifle her laughter.

And, it’s at that moment, with her heart swelling with absolute affection for him, that Jemma realizes that she can’t quite remember what her life was like before her came into it, even though it’s only been six months. There’s something about being with Fitz, about the way that he makes even the simplest things so much brighter, so much more fun, that she’s never experienced with anyone else before.

When Fitz finally pops back up, leaning on his elbows for support, she prompts him seriously, “Fitz?”

“Yeah?” he questions, his little grin fading into a frown, no doubt at the look on her face (which is most likely a cross between determination and anxiety).

Jemma inhales a short breath, then blurts out without a single ounce of finesse, “You’re my best friend.”

The room falls silent in the wake of her confession, and Fitz spends a handful of moments just gaping at her, obviously not sure what to say in response.

Chewing at her bottom lip nervously, Jemma gives him another, weak little kick as she asks softly, “Fitz?”

Finally, he sucks in a shaky breath of his own, and stutters out, “You’re – well of course – Simmons…” Then, he clears his throat and pushes himself up to sit up fully, hunching his shoulders and dropping his gaze to stare down at his lap. It’s only for a moment, though, and then he looks back up to meet her eyes, an intensity and sincerity in them as he tells her, “You’re my best friend too.”

Jemma had suspected as much, of course – it’s not as if either of them spends any sort of regular time with anyone else at the Academy – but the words being put so plainly have her breath catching slightly in her throat, her heart beating just a bit quicker in her chest.

“Um, good,” she replies, the words coming out strangely breathlessly, and she hastily drops her eyes back to her textbook.

“Yeah. Good.” She can hear him reopening his own book then, shortly before his pencil begins to tap out a steady rhythm against it.

Confident that he isn’t paying attention to her, then, Jemma allows herself to indulge in a wide, excited grin.

And fittingly, that day is the birthday of Peggy Carter (which Jemma, of course, knows because she became fascinated with SHIELD’s founder upon doing her research before attending the Academy last fall), a trailblazer if there ever was one, where Jemma takes her first true steps onto a new path for her life to follow.

But, of course, she won’t recognize the significance of the moment for years to come.

-

“And you’re sure that you’ll be busy all day? I could even take you out for breakfast, or a late lunch or something,” David, Jemma’s current boyfriend, presses once more.

Shifting to hold the phone between her ear and her shoulder, Jemma finishes buttoning up her shirt as she explains once more, “I’m sorry, but I already have plans. I told you this two weeks ago, David.”

“I know, I know, but – it’s your birthday, Jemma. Can I at least see you?”

Pursing her lips, she lets out a silent sigh and takes the phone in her hand once more and leans up against the sink in the bathroom that she shares with Fitz. “I just don’t think I’ll have the time. But, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Even over the line, she can hear his less-than-happy huff, but he eventually replies, “Yeah, sure. Happy Birthday, Jemma.”

“Thank you. Goodbye, David.” She waits until he’s said his goodbyes as well, then ends the call, tucking her cell phone into the pocket of her jeans and stepping out of the room and into the hall.

When she’d passed Fitz’s bedroom door earlier on her way to the bathroom, it had been closed and he’d likely still been asleep. Now, it is open as she goes by once more, and sure enough he’s waiting for her in the living room when she enters it. The TV is already on, and he’s in the process of queuing up the first of her favorite movies that they’d scheduled to watch for the day.

At her entrance, though, he pauses and turns to face her, a grin curling his lips as he greets, “Hey, Happy Birthday!”

Laughing, Jemma plops down on the couch beside Fitz. “Thank you, Fitz.”

Fitz holds the remote out, as though he’s about to start the movie, but then pauses and turns to her, “And now you’re sure this is what you wanna do instead of going out and getting drunk?”

Shifting to curl up a bit more comfortably on the couch and tucking her legs beneath her, Jemma replies, “Truthfully, yes. I think I’m still recovering from last year’s twenty-one bender; spending my twenty-second birthday at home watching movies all day sounds heavenly in comparison.”

Fitz affects an exaggerated shudder, nodding in agreement. “Okay, yeah, you’re right; I don’t need you puking on anymore of my shoes.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, throwing an elbow into his ribs as she tells him, “Just start the movie, Fitz.”

“Bossy, bossy – but, I’m going to let it pass, since it is your birthday,” he teases in reply, finally pressing ‘play’ on the remote.

And, that is exactly how they spend the day; lounging on the couch together, with the occasional trips to the kitchen for food and the few times they have to pause for Jemma to answer a phone call from a family member. But, it is an absolutely perfect day, and by the time that it’s dark outside their windows and the only light is coming from their TV, they’re on their last movie of the day.

Jemma has her legs slung over Fitz’s lap and her head resting on his shoulder, and she can feel the beginnings of exhaustion just beginning to tug at her. She’s just so warm and comfortable there…

“Hey,” Fitz says suddenly, startling Jemma out of the half-sleep she’d been slipping into, “do you have plans with David tonight? Because if you do, you can go if you want – it’s not my birthday, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Jemma turns to look at Fitz more fully, noting his understanding smile. “No, I…” Truthfully, she does feel badly about skipping out on a date with David to spend the day with Fitz – but, she’d justified it to herself with the reminder that it was her birthday and, well…he was dreadfully dull compared to Fitz. However, to him, she says, “Fitz, there’s no else that I’d rather spend my birthday with.”

The words have a flicker of relief crossing his face and his smile growing a bit wider, but he simply nods in response, replying, “Oh, okay.”

And, though Jemma knows what she said is true and that Fitz is more important to her than any of her boyfriends ever had been or ever could be, she’s a bit taken aback to realize that she has never meant anything more than those words in her life.

-

It’s still rather early when Jemma tiptoes out of the bunk and into the hall, quietly closing the door behind her before hurrying through the corridors of the Playground until she reaches the commissary. Fortunately for her, it’s early enough that she doesn’t run into anyone else as she moves as quickly as possible through getting what she needs to ready.

Once she’s finally finished, she piles it all onto a tray, and (carefully) hurries back the way that she’d come, slipping back into the bunk and smiling at the sight of Fitz still fast asleep in their bed. He’s rolled over onto his stomach in her absence, his face buried in his pillow with his cheek crushed against it, and he’s so adorable that her stomach flips with affection.

Jemma sets the tray down on the desk, and slips out of the robe that she’d donned to leave their room, crawling back into bed with him and slipping beneath the covers. “Fitz,” she whispers, sliding one palm along his naked back and leaning in to press slow, lingering kisses over his shoulders and the back of his neck. “Fitz, it’s time to get up. Fitz.”

He grumbles something incoherent, shoving his face more fully into his pillow.

She lets out a little laugh in response, trailing her fingertips lightly over his side, and dropping another kiss on his shoulder. “Fitz, come on, it’s morning.” But, when she doesn’t even get an attempt at a reply that time, she shifts up onto her knees until she can straddle his back. She feels him stiffen slightly beneath her, then relax, before she slides her arms underneath his in a hug, the entire length of her front pressed against his back. “Wake up, Fitz, wake up,” she sing-songs, tilting her head until she can find the hinge of his jaw with her mouth, nibbling lightly at the skin there.

“M’up, m’up,” he mumbles out, and it’s her only warning before she finds herself suddenly on her back, Fitz rolling until he’s above her and kissing her lazily, one hand cupping her cheek and the other gripping her hip.

Jemma responds eagerly to the kiss, burying the fingers of one hand in his curls to keep him close, and against his lips, she whispers, “Happy Birthday, Fitz.”

His lips pause against hers, then he pulls back just enough to catch her eye, and the way that his are shining has her heart filling with warmth. “Best one I’ve ever had, without a doubt,” he murmurs, beginning to lean back into her.

But, she wiggles out from underneath him, hopping out of bed and ignoring his groan of loss. “Wait!” she calls over her shoulder as she crosses the room to grab the tray from the desk, bringing it back over to the bed with her. “I’ve got tea and pancakes!”

Fitz, having rolled onto his back, drops back against the headboard then, eyeing her for a moment before releasing a great sigh and rolling his eyes skyward. “Alright, now I don’t think any birthday could ever compare to this one – I mean, naked Jemma Simmons bringing me pancakes in bed? What could possibly top that?”

“Oh hush,” Jemma snaps lightly, climbing back into bed and handing him the tray. They’ve only taken a couple bites of pancake, however, when she says contemplatively, “This really is different from how we’ve always celebrated birthdays in the past, though, isn’t it?”

Fitz freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “Uh…good different, or bad different?”

Giving a little roll of her eyes, Jemma curves a hand along his cheek and pecks his lips reassuringly before answering, “Good different, of course.”

It’s true, though; this is the first birthday that they’ve celebrated as a romantic couple, and the reminder has a little thrill passing through Jemma. Sure, things aren’t great around them at the moment – Daisy has taken off in the wake of Lincoln’s sacrifice and has so far evaded any and all efforts to bring her home, Coulson is being forced to step down as Director in the coming months, and they’re all still coming to terms with the government being more directly involved in (and scrutinizing) their affairs.

However, today is all about them, and about making the day as good as she possibly can for Fitz, so Jemma forces herself not to think about all of that, to not feel guilty about this little indulgence. Instead, she teases, “Being a couple certainly would’ve made for interesting birthdays these past twelve years, you know. Though, I’m sure it would’ve gotten old eventually.”

“Never,” Fitz argues immediately, finding her lips with his to press in for more kisses, made sweet and slightly sticky from the syrup.

She isn’t sure if it is the conviction in his voice or his lips against hers or just him in general, but Jemma is abruptly (and not for the first time) overwhelmed with a rush of utter love for her best friend. When he goes to pull away, she lifts a hand to hold the back of his head and draw him back in (and it’s not as if he puts up a fight).

After a long moment, she finally breaks away, resting her forehead against his and holding his beloved face between her hands as she murmurs, “I love you, Fitz.”

His own hand comes up to cradle her cheek, and his thumb strokes her skin as he replies softly, reverently, “I love you, Jemma.”

And, even though everything around them is so wrong and Jemma has the feeling that it’s only going to get worse, it is the best birthday that they’ve spent together in a long time.

-

The day that Jemma marries Fitz is one the happiest that she has ever experienced – which is incredible in and of itself, given that there’s a dimensional rift in their basement threatening to break open at any moment with their worst fears made real, and they’ve just returned from a trip to an apocalyptic future that they have to try and stop from happening.

But, it’s simply a testament to how strong their love for each other is that it can temporarily outshine the worries in her mind, leaving only wedded bliss and the joy of finally marrying her best friend and the love of her life.

After the wedding itself, their little team gathers in the common area with a few of the other agents that have joined them at the Lighthouse, and they drink and talk and laugh, celebrating their unity as though the world isn’t getting closer and closer to ending every minute.

Jemma has spent much of the time either curled up against Fitz or perched on his lap, but after awhile, she rises to stretch her legs for a bit. He catches her hand as she steps away, and she bends over to press a kiss to his forehead, assuring him, “I’ll be right back.”

She meanders over to the little table set up with some snacks and sandwiches, and is nibbling on a couple of crackers (and being careful to keep any crumbs off of her wedding dress) when Daisy approaches her with a beaming grin.

“I can’t believe you guys actually got married,” she says excitedly, giving Jemma a little nudge in the side with her elbow.

“Neither can I,” Jemma admits.

“I mean, it’s such a long time coming.” Daisy shakes her head, grabbing a handful of pretzels and munching on them. Around the mouthful, she goes on, “God, I just never thought that those two nerds I met on the Bus all that time ago would get married – to each other.”

Jemma can’t help but laugh at that, giving a little shake of her own head. “I know – we would’ve never thought it either, I can tell you that much.”

“I know I’ve asked this before, but…you guys really never thought of each other like that before?” Daisy gazes at Jemma imploringly, her eyebrows raised.

“No,” Jemma confesses, folding her arms over her chest and shrugging slightly. “We were always very firm in the belief that we were best friends, completely and utterly platonically.” She glances over her shoulder, spotting Fitz – her husband – chatting with Mack, Davis, and Mike about something that has them all laughing, and the sight of happiness on Fitz’s face has a smile automatically curving her own lips. “It’s the only thing we’ll ever admit to being ignorant about.”

Daisy snorts out a laugh at that. “Well, lemme tell you, for as long as I’ve known you both, you’ve never acted like completely and utterly platonic best friends; I always knew there had to be something else there.”

“So we’ve heard.” After all, Daisy is far from the first of their friends to say they saw something between her and Fitz before they saw it themselves.

“Well, no matter how you got here, I’m so happy for you guys.”

Jemma’s smile widens, and she catches one of Daisy’s hands in hers to give it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Daisy. Though, I truly doubt that anyone’s happier than Fitz and I are just about now.”

“Oh, so do I,” Daisy agrees easily, chuckling – which quickly turns into full-blown laughter as Jemma crosses the room and tugs Fitz up from his seat. They say their goodnights to everyone before she begins to lead him toward the door, and Daisy calls after them, “Whoa, I guess you really are happy about this wedding!”

In response, Jemma simply shoots Daisy a wink over her shoulder.

And it isn’t until much later that night, when Jemma’s thinking back over the day, over the wedding, and her conversation with Daisy at the reception, that she realizes abruptly and very much out of the blue; it’s Sigmund Freud’s birthday.

To herself, Jemma can’t help but think dryly then that the psychologist certainly would have a lot to say about her relationship with Fitz – after all, he is the one that first stated the significance of unconscious behavior, that the choices that people make are determined by hidden reasoning in their minds. And, well, if that didn’t describe their friendship, the way that they had always wanted to be together, the way that they’d grown so close but never saw it as unusual simply because they weren’t aware of their feelings, she doesn’t know what does.

Daisy had been absolutely right earlier; she and Fitz had never acted as traditional best friends, but their draw toward each other and the physical and mental closeness that had grown out of it had been completely unconscious to both of them. While outsiders had always read it as a romantic interest in one another, they’d simply brushed off the notion and explained the intimacy away with their close friendship.

Rolling over in bed then to face Fitz, who is already fast asleep, Jemma reaches out to lightly trail her fingertips over his cheek, before finding his left hand to stroke her thumb over his wedding ring (which she’s been caressing off and on for hours, but the feel of the metal against her skin still makes her stomach do a little flip).

The notion that they hadn’t realized their romantic love for one another for a decade feels ridiculous now, lying in bed together and wearing wedding rings, but Jemma can still remember the days when Fitz was her best friend and her partner, and she was convinced that her desire to spend every waking hour with him was because he was the most interesting person that she’d ever met, that he understood and shared her love of science, that he could read her mind and finish her sentences so effortlessly.

And though she knew now that it had been all of that, plus a deep connection that eventually and without their notice turned to love, she wouldn’t give up all those years as friends for anything – they are just as important and dear to her as the time that they’ve spent as a couple.

So, though Freud might have a lot to say about the wedding that occurred on his birthday, Jemma doesn’t pay it anymore mind; all that matters is that they’re fully aware of it all now, and that they’re married, moving forward in their lives together.

Though, however, that doesn’t last very long at all (and, without a doubt, Freud would also have quite a bit to say about what happens next).

-

“Hey, do you think we have enough balloons?”

Noting the dry tone of her husband’s voice, Jemma rolls her eyes and throws a sharp look at him over her shoulder after she’s finished carefully placing the cake in the fridge. “It’s her first birthday, Fitz; it should be special.” He opens his mouth, but she continues before he can speak, “Yes, I know she won’t remember it, but that’s not the point.”

“Alright, alright,” Fitz says, holding up his hands in surrender, then swooping down to pick up Evelyn from her seat on their living room floor and sitting her on his hip. “I can agree that our little Evie deserves the best.” He drops a kiss on top of her head, grinning at the delighted little squeal he receives in response. “So, what time did you tell everyone to get here?”

Jemma throws a glance at the clock on the wall in their kitchen. “Actually, they should be getting here any minute.” She presses her lips together a bit anxiously, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she peers at their front door.

After much debate, they’d agreed to invite the team to their Perthshire home for Evelyn’s first birthday (and to throw a separate party later that day with their families – though, if all went well, they’d invite their SHIELD friends to stay for it as well). Though they’d left SHIELD amicably the previous year, things still hadn’t quite been healed from the cracks that had begun to form between them while they’d been trying to break the time loop they’d found themselves in.

As such, Jemma isn’t quite sure if today is going to end up being a disaster or not; after all, without a world to save as a distraction, things might only serve to be worse than they had been before.

It’s at that moment that a knock sounds through the cottage, and Jemma takes a steadying breath before going to get it. The very moment that she opens the door, though, to the sight of Coulson and May arguing in whispered voices about where they’d parked the cloaked quinjet, Elena and Daisy chatting about a new training regimen the latter had just begun with Deke offering his two cents every so often, and Mack simply looking exasperated with the others, a brilliant smile spread across Jemma’s lips.

“Hey,” Daisy is the first to greet her, “sorry we’re late.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jemma assures her immediately, stepping back to let them all in.

Fitz steps closer to greet them, but Jemma notes in concern that he has become more subdued as he says simply, “Hey.”

But, then Mack claps him on the shoulder with a, “hey Turbo”, and Daisy plucks Evelyn directly from his arms and coos, “oh my god, your baby’s adorable”, and she notices the tension in his body begin to ease.

They all gather in their cozy little living room, Daisy and Deke ending up on the floor playing with baby Evelyn (with only a few of the usual comments from Deke here and there about how weird it is that she’s his mother), and they catch up on everything as though nothing has happened.

Or, perhaps that isn’t right. It’s all still there, of course; it can’t be taken back. But, now, it’s as though what happened isn’t what’s most important anymore, that it’s been forgiven, it’s been dealt with and left in the past, and it’s been allowed time to heal.

And that feeling is prevalent throughout the day, as they sing Evelyn ‘Happy Birthday’ and have cake, as they watch her open presents (or, watch Jemma and Fitz open her presents for her), and as they celebrate the birthday of the littlest member of their family.

That’s what it is, Jemma realizes, that’s what feels different. It’s the first time that their team has come back together as more than a team, but as a family since everything that happened between all of them.

Though she’s so, so happy to have started a family of their own with Fitz, it finally feels whole now that their SHIELD family is there with them, and is able to enjoy it with them. She and Fitz have been each other’s family for almost fifteen years by now (in fact, likely since that first day she realized that he was her best friend), and for some, she’d thought that that was enough. Then, they’d joined Coulson’s team, and she’d slowly come to realize that maybe it didn’t have to just be them against the world.

But, things ended up falling apart, they left and had Evelyn, and though she loved her daughter fiercely, she didn’t – couldn’t – replace the family that they no longer had with them. Now that they’re all together, though, it is the first time that Jemma feels like nothing is missing.

She thinks then, of how far she’s come with Fitz on the journey that began all those years ago in a chem class, of how they found each other and held on tightly to one another through life’s many ups and downs. Then, somehow, they’d fallen right into a group of people just like them, who understood them, and ultimately ended up helping to build this sorted little family that surrounds them at that moment.

And today, with Evelyn now in their lives and their SHIELD family back in them as well, it’s finally complete.

[taztaas]

#50 taakitz? Maybe with your favorite au!

Hey anon! Sorry, this took ages. This was a bit tricky, I figured that High School AU’s are my fave but the prompt didn’t really fit, but I went with that anyway. I already wrote this (1688 words jeez I have no chill) and then I remembered that I really like fake dating AU’s… That one would have been easier. But, well, here you go. I made Taako some sort of sleep gremlin sorry for that. Also I have no idea how high schools work, please indulge me.

#50 “It’s not safe here.”

Something raps against the window and Kravitz jolts awake, a music sheet sticking to his face. He has fallen asleep at his desk again. Sitting up, he rubs at his tired eyes, half-wondering what woke him up. Something hits his window again, a small stone it sounds like.

Not really thinking about it he stands up, walks up to his window and opens it. He peers into the darkness below, and spots something humanoid-shaped crouching down on the gravel, bending down to pick up more stones.

“Hello?” Kravitz calls out unsurely, because he’s now awake enough to realize that he really isn’t friends with anyone who would be out on the school premises after dark, throwing things at his window.

The shape below stands up and Kravitz’s heart stops for a second because the person looks like Taako and he’s been gathering courage to ask the elf out for ages.

“Oh shit! Skellington?!” Lup laughs - because of course it had to be Lup - too loud and it makes Kravitz cringe in nervousness. “What are you doing in my brother’s room with your clothes on?!” She yells, trying to keep somewhat quiet at the same time but failing miserably, which seems to be a running theme with the twins.

Kravitz sighs. He goes to one campus Halloween party after watching Fantasy The Nightmare Before Christmas and Lup hasn’t let it go since. He ignores the nickname, and ignores the other thing Lup said even harder because what.

“This is my room, Taako’s is on the other side.” Kravitz whisper-shouts, “What are you doing here? It’s after curfew, you shouldn’t be out here, it’s not safe.” And it really is risky, Neverwinter High is extremely tight-assed about their rules. Breaking those rules - and getting caught - equals many grueling and boring hours in the school’s equivalent of community service.

“Pshaw, who gives a shit!” Lup says with a grin and a dismissive wave of her hand. Now that Kravitz’s eyes have gotten accustomed to the darkness, he notices that she’s wearing a red robe over her PJ’s and a pair of bunny slippers which seem a bit of an inconvenient choice in footwear for a night outside. “Get Taako for me?”

“Why don’t you just go around the building?” Kravitz asks with a frown but Lup just scoffs and shakes her head at him, as if exasperated by Kravitz’s ludicrous suggestion.

“And go through all that trouble when you can just walk a few steps across the hall to get him? Fuck that! Go get that boy for me.”

Kravitz pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t know either of the twins that well but he’s familiar enough with their reputation that he knows it’s useless to argue.

“Fine. Wait just a moment.”

Lup grins and gives him a double thumbs up, her ears perking up excitedly. Kravitz closes the window just in case, not trusting Lup’s ability to control her impulses. He doesn’t want to come back to his room to find it full of gravel.

Resigned to his fate, he leaves his room and walks across the hall to Taako’s door. It takes a couple of knocks but then the door opens, revealing Taako in all of his drowsy glory. His hair is a tangled mess falling over his shoulders. He’s wearing a too large, worn t-shirt that is almost falling off one shoulder and a pair of sleeping shorts that are really way too short to be decent.

Kravitz is used to seeing Taako in carefully put together and thought-out looks, so seeing him like this makes something twist in Kravitz’s stomach and he bites his lip. Taako looks adorable. Thankfully Taako seems to be too out of it to take notice of Kravitz’s ogling.

“Muh?” The elf says intelligently, rubbing at one of his half-lidded eyes, ears drooping, other hand still on the door.

“Oh, uh. Your uh- sister is asking for you.” Kravitz stammers out and Taako blinks in response, but doesn’t look any more awake for it. He leans forward from the doorway and looks out into the hall, looking both ways. Besides the two of them, the hall is empty.

“Mrp?” He huffs out and looks at Kravitz with suspicion. His ears twitch in agitation.

“She’s ahh, she’s out on the courtyard, below my window.” Kravitz explains and points his thumb behind him, over his shoulder, indicating his dorm room. Taako’s eyes, glowing slightly in the dark, follow the movement.

“Meh.” Taako concludes and reaches for Kravitz’s hand, grabbing it before Kravitz has any time to panic about his clammy palms. Taako pulls his door closed with his free hand. Kravitz stares down at their joined hands in confusion before looking up.

“Uh, Taako? It’s just over there? You can actually see my door…”

“Mmm.” Taako says, staring Kravitz in the eyes blankly.

“You… You want me to walk you?”

“Mmm.” Taako keeps staring but his ears rise up slightly.

“Uh, okay I guess.” Kravitz says unsurely, but screaming internally - he’s holding Taako’s hand!! and pulls Taako with him to his room which is an uncharacteristic mess of bard-class assignments and reaper homework, double-majoring overwhelms him sometimes and work piles up.

Kravitz leads Taako to the window and lets go of his hand with no small amount of reluctance. Taako stands still, staring dumbly at the window, unable to comprehend the mechanism of opening it in his sleepy state. Kravitz sighs and reaches past him to open the latch and push the window open. His arm brushes Taako’s in the process and his skin breaks out in goosebumps.

Taako leans out of the window, just a bit too far to be safe and Kravitz is unable to stop himself from grabbing the back of Taako’s shirt to keep him from falling, just in case, even though he knows Taako has magic powers. Taako doesn’t seem to even notice but his other ear turns back towards Kravitz for a moment, like it has a mind of its own.

“There he is!” Lup yells from down below and Kravitz can’t help but to twitch in anxiety. They are so getting caught and raking leaves around the campus for the next month.

“Lulu?” Taako mutters, his first actual word of the night as he squints into the darkness where Lup’s eyes glow like a couple of lightening bugs.

“Get down here bro, we’re getting my fifteen dollars back!”

“You want to go rob Greg fuckin’ Grimaldis on a wednesday night?” Taako asks before he yawns widely, his ears pressing flat against his head.

“Uhh, yeah?” Lup says, her tone indicating that it should be obvious.

“…Okay.”

Taako starts to clamber out of the window and Kravitz’s jaw drops open because he’s going outside in those shorts? Taako doesn’t even have shoes on, just fuzzy socks.

“See you later, handsome.” Taako says with a tired but charming grin and Kravitz smiles back hesitantly.

Taako jumps down, casting featherfall at the last possible moment to be as over the top as possible. He lands softly on the grass, striking a pose and discreetly pulling the hem of his shorts down a bit while he yawns widely once again.

“Show off,” Lup snorts with affection and then they’re off.

Kravitz closes his window, hardly believing what just happened. He turns off the lights and goes to bed, still feeling dazed.

He is woken by a tapping at his window, and he curses himself for being such a light sleeper. Kravitz tries to will himself back to sleep but the tapping continues. He tries hard to ignore it until he hears the sound of his very much locked window opening and he scrambles up in alarm, gets tangled in his blankets and falls to the floor with a soft thump.

From his new perspective, he sees Taako stepping into his room through the window. The elf seems even more sluggish than before. He must’ve ran out of energy after managing whatever mischief he and Lup had been up to.

“Hey.” Kravitz says quietly, trying to sound casual despite laying on his floor after getting tentacled by his own bed covers.

“Mmh. ‘s cold.” Taako mutters and shuffles, zombie-like, to Kravitz’s bed and gracelessly flops down onto it. Kravitz fights his way out of the blankets and gets up to his knees to peer at the elf sprawled across his bed.

“Uh, Taako?”

He gets an unintelligible mumble, muffled by the mattress, in response.

“Are you… Are you gonna go back to your room?” Kravitz asks, standing up, holding his blankets in one hand.

“Nnn.” Taako whines. He doesn’t get up, but at least he rolls over slightly to make some space for Kravitz in his own bed.

“Okay. Okay, I guess this is happening.” Kravitz says under his breath and throws one of the blankets on top of Taako who makes a pleased little noise and burrows under it.

Kravitz settles down next to him, being extremely conscious of their proximity and taking extreme care not to brush against the Taako-shaped lump under the covers.

He lays there, stiff as a board, eyes closed and breathing manually but eventually he manages to fall asleep.

Until he wakes up again, for the third time. Unsure what woke him up, he opens his eyes and finds himself laying on his side, face-to-face with Taako who is wide awake and whose face blooms intense red as Kravitz catches his eye.

He’s really close and Kravitz feels his own cheeks heating up. Taako’s breath hitches and they stare at each other with wide eyes.

Kravitz clears his throat, and whispers, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Taako breathes. “Sorry I crashed on your bed.”

“‘s okay.” Kravitz mumbles, blinking heavily, because he has had about a wink of sleep and he still needs to get up early. He can’t remember the last time he was this tired. “You can stay if you want.” Kravitz’s eyes fall shut.

There’s a beat of silence, before Taako says, “For realsies?” And Kravitz smiles, already half asleep. “For realsies.”

I kinda wanged it at the end there I couldn’t think of anything good :(