#there are a couple of times he seems genuinely taken aback/to forget himself. and other times where he is 100% just being a lil shit

[vaguely-concerned]

one of the funniest things about garashir are all those times when julian bashir -- not unequivocally the most autistic person in the quadrant only because odo and worf are also here -- steps in to function as garak's emotional support social skills. 'garak this isn't helping/garak this isn't the time/garak baby if I can read the social writing on this wall it's time to get out let's go go go'

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xi // Lazarus

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The wipers are switched to their highest setting, yet still struggle to hectically sweep at the rain pouring down on the Clio’s windshield. Renee ashes his cigarette out the slit in the window, then holds the butt loosely between his teeth as he turns onto a supermarket parking lot, eyes scanning for the green vehicle he knows is waiting for him. Empty as the lot is - as this whole area of town seems to be this time of year – it doesn’t take long before he spots it, parked in the furthest corner under the half-cover canopy of a couple of trees.

Renee parks his car next to it, cringing a little at how easily the handle of the handbrake moves into its farthest notch. He leaves the car in first gear before he kills the engine. The parking lot doesn’t slope, but he doesn’t want to risk the Clio going on any adventures while he’s here. Not least because it’d be embarrassing.

He spots Lazarus through the windows, seemingly so lost in his phone that he hasn’t noticed Renee arriving at all. That has to be a charade – usually, nothing gets past that man.

Renee clicks himself free of his seatbelt, haphazardly discarding the cigarette butt in a half-full takeaway cup, and grabs his phone from the dashboard, pausing briefly before he opens the door to look past the tree crowns to the dark clouds which don’t show even a sliver of a hint that they intend to seize their downpour. Counting to three, he gets out. Immediately, his sweatshirt is dotted with dark circles where the cold rain hits him. Cursing, Renee pulls open the passenger door of Lazarus’ car and shimmies through, shutting the door hard the moment he has pulled his feet inside.

Lazarus’ car, apart being a class bigger than his own, is also considerably cleaner. Here, months’ worth of dirt and gravel hasn’t built up on the floor mats, and fast-food bags and tissues don’t lie discarded in the seats.

As Renee brushes the dampness from his hair, Lazarus looks up at him. “Long time no see,” he says, and his crooked smile is genuine.

As if seeing the man for the first time, Renee is once again taken aback by just how good he looks, with his hair parted down the middle, framing his face in warm brown; his criminally long lashes; that jawline of his that looks like it could cut stone.

Reasonably satisfied his hair will no longer drip, Renee leans across the center console and presses his lips to Lazarus’, cupping his hand in the nape of his neck to pull him closer. He feels the stiffness of surprise in the other melt away into willingness, a call answered.

“Too fuckin’ long,” Renee breathes, leaning his forehead against Lazarus’, “if you ask me.” He kisses him again and then trails down, about ready to bury himself in his neck when a hand runs down his chest to gently push him away.

“Business first,” Lazarus murmurs in his ear.

Humming his displeasure, Renee sinks back into the passenger seat.

Lazarus laughs a little. “You’ve shown up with empty pockets before, Renee. I’m not here just to waste my time.”

Renee grimaces. “Way to ruin the mood,” he mutters. “It happened once, man.”

“And I don’t forget.” Although the tone is stern, there is nothing judgmental to find in Lazarus’ smile. “C’mon,” he says. “Tell me what you’re in the market for.”

Renee pouts, absentmindedly pulling out his phone to log onto his wallet. “The usual,” he grumbles.

Lazarus laughs again at his tone, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before he turns to climb over the center console to the back seat. “Don’t be so grim, big guy,” he calls back. Even if Renee hadn’t seen it, the grin in Lazarus’ voice would be unmistakable.

Damn him. He’s one of those people it’s hard to stay mad at.

Renee twists in his seat, looping an arm around the headrest to watch Lazarus unlocking one of the back seats and laying it down, giving him access to the trunk.

As Lazarus fishes for the stash hidden in the compartment that’s supposed to house a spare tire, Renee can’t help but let his eyes wander uninhibited down the man’s body, noting the way the black shirt hitches up to expose a sliver of skin, the way his jeans fit around his hips.

Renee clears his throat. “Do you, uh, have acid?”

Lazarus looks back at him and shakes his head. “Not currently, no. I know where to get it, though.”

“Molly?”

“That, I have in stock.”

Lazarus raises an eyebrow, and Renee nods in confirmation to the unspoken question.

“Sixty milligrams enough for you?” Lazarus asks. “I don’t have one-twenty.”

“Sixty will have to do, then. Ah, give me twenty or something.”

Lazarus nods and ducks back into the trunk.

The rain hits the roof of the car in staccato taps, rushes down the windows in shallow streams. Renee watches as a car drives by on the road outside, tires trailing up misty sprays of water that has collected on the roads.

Lazarus emerges from the trunk, dragging out a small precision scale and a steel box locked with a padlock on the front. He lays both out on the back seat, pulls a key from his pocket, and opens it. Lazarus filters through its contents, largely obscured by a mess of zip-lock bags, until he pulls out one that’s full of chunky pills, in a variety of shapes and colors. He carefully counts the pills into one hand and then lets them spill into an empty bag.

Closing the bag, he catches Renee’s eye and hands it to him. “I think I miscounted,” he says ruefully.

Renee grins back at him as he pockets the pills. “Aw, shucks.”

As Lazarus pulls out a zip-lock bag of white powder, Renee feels how his eyes become hungry.

“How much?” Lazarus asks.

Renee rubs the back of his neck, feeling a smile creep up on the corner of his mouth. “Give me thirty grams.”

Lazarus pauses, eyeing Renee with mild incredulity. “Got a job, did you?”

Renee grins at him. “Sure did.”

Lazarus snorts. Placing the precision scale on the lid of a steel box, he sets to work measuring out a cut of the product. “What kind of job, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah.” Renee drums a bit on the back of the seat, hands flat against the corduroy. He can’t quite keep the restlessness out of his voice. “I moderate a stream, actually.”

Lazarus glances up at him. “Like a Twitch stream?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Renee purses his lips. “It’s all kind of hush-hush. The guy I work for is paranoid as shit.”

“I didn’t know there was money in that. Modding, I mean.”

Renee grins. “You’d be surprised.”

It takes a while to calculate the price in dollars, and another to calculate the corresponding price with the current exchange rate of Lazarus’ preferred coin, but eventually, Renee can show him the transaction code, finalizing the deal. He hates how formal the whole thing feels, but Lazarus prefers doing it this way.

Once Renee can feel the weight and rustling of the product in his jacket pocket, Lazarus packs down the scale and steel boxes again, meticulously arranging the black mat, and Renee is nearly bursting at the seams with impatience. “I fuckin’ missed our meetings,” he says, a little too enthusiastically.

Lazarus chuckles, lifting the back seat up until it clicks into place. He nonchalantly slides down against the seat, not hiding his amusement at seeing Renee’s eager expression. “That so?”

“Yeah.”

Lazarus cocks his head to the side, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Come get it, then.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

💵

It’s still raining when Renee pulls back up to his parents’ vacation home, to the point where the gutter right next to the driveway is flooded as evidently, even the sewers are struggling to keep up. Renee parks on the road and gets out, walking briskly to get under the half-roof by the front door. Sheltered from the rain, he smokes a cigarette, tripping the entire time as the coldness of the air seeps through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. There’s a comfortable soreness in him, though, a satisfaction that can’t be wiped away as easily as with mere weather.

He doesn’t bother snuffing out the butt before he throws it into a pot of his mother’s withered petchoas and heads inside. Be it now or later, they’ll burn all the same.

At the dining table, Davin looks up from his laptop as Renee enters, hand frozen in the middle of writing something in a notebook. “Where’ve you been?”

“Out,” Renee answers as he shrugs off his jacket.

Davin seems to wait for an elaboration, but when it doesn’t come, he shrugs and returns to his work.

Eyes meandering to a wall clock, Renee wonders briefly if it’s too early in the day to start drinking. Concludes it’s definitely five o’clock somewhere.

Equipped with all the essentials of bourgeois leisure, the kitchen also features a small wine cooler built into the island. Renee, deciding he’s had enough of rum and coke, scours that cooler for any leftovers from summer, and is pleased to find two bottles of rosé scattered in among the reds. Although Renee isn’t usually a fan of wine, rosé has always been his exception – the sweeter blends, at least.

He pours a serving for himself in a normal glass, switching it around to watch the liquid stick to the sides, trailing down in streaks. One of the expensive ones, then. Nonchalantly, he walks over to stand behind Davin, looking over the man’s shoulder.

Half of the laptop screen is taken up by code, and the other – by the site Davin built to host the livestreams. Its design is so bare-bones, it might as well pass for another market or some whistleblower’s safe confessions. It features no art or images, only white and red text on a black background. Not even the font is particularly eye-catching. But that’s the standard for sites built in this field – here, practicality and security is valued above aesthetics.

“You redoing things?” Renee asks.

“Just ah… looking over things. Again.” Davin gestures at the notebook.

“Mhm.” Renee takes a sip of the rosé, then has to grit his teeth to keep from coughing at its dryness. He eyes the glass with newfound disgust. When he sits down next to Davin he places it a little too far out of reach on the table. “How are we doing?”

“Uh,” Davin says. “We hit over five hundred views at the peak of things,” Davin mutters, pointing to the screen.

Renee whistles. “That’s pretty good.”

Davin hesitates. “I hoped things would roll off a little faster,” he says.

“Nah, man,” Renee chuckles, “you worry too much. You said it yourself: once the story hits the mainstream, that’s a catalyst. It’ll work, man. It’s fucking crazy, but it’s gonna work.”

He laughs, then feels a smidgeon of uncertainty when Davin doesn’t respond to it in kind.

“Or am I stupid for having faith in it?”

Davin grimaces but makes no attempt at answering him. Renee drums a little on the table to egg him on.

“It’s just,” Davin says eventually, a little carefully, “that the moment the story hits the mainstream, the FBI will already have a team assembled to crack the site, yeah? And by then, it’s just a matter of time.”

“Before what?”

“Before we slip up,” Davin says, matter-of-factly.

Renee pauses at that. Drums on the table for a bit before he decides the dry rosé deserves another go. He takes a large gulp, closing his nose to the taste as he feels the alcohol bite in his throat. “Let’s not count on slipping up,” he says on the exhale.

Davin snorts, but nods solemnly, eyes trailing down the code scribbles in his notebook. “Why’d you think I keep checking our code? Same reason we’re torching this place when we’re done here. I don’t like taking chances.”

“Alright.” Sitting in an atmosphere that threatens to turn too heavy with the weight of what they just discussed, Renee tries not to fidget too much as he changes the subject. “I actually had some ideas I wanted to throw your way,” he says. “For the streams, I mean.”

The sigh Davin lets out is hard to not interpret as overbearing. “Shoot,” he says.

“First off – I want to be able to see chat during the stream.”

Davin nods, half-shrugging his shoulder. “Easy enough.”

“Secondly,” Renee says, and pauses, struggling to phrase it right. “We have to get rid of the gag, man.”

Davin’s nonchalant composure falters at that. “You want to let Conrad speak…?”

Renee nods.

“…during the stream,” Davin finishes. He lets the statement hang in the air for a moment. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

Renee shakes his head, holding his finger up for pause. “He can beg, I’m telling you. We’re letting all his eloquence go to waste.”

Davin blinks. “You’re clinically insane.”

“See, that’s the good part,” Renee grins. “I actually thought of a way to do it, and it’s very fucking clever.”

Davin leans back in his seat, folding his hands across his stomach. “Pray tell,” he says sarcastically.

“A delay,” Renee says.

Davin blinks.

“A delay in the stream,” Renee elaborates.

Davin blinks again.

Rolling his eyes, Renee pulls his chair closer to Davin’s and leans in as if confiding a secret. “Here’s how it looks in my head, alright? We let Conrad speak, but the stream runs on a delay of, say, thirty seconds. So in case he does decide to say my name, or say where we are, or anything like that, all you have to do is edit the feed in real time by cutting out that section of video. Maybe I beat him up a bit for ruining a perfectly good stream – problem solved, no harm done.”

For a long moment, there’s a furrow to Davin’s brow as he thinks over the possibility. Renee watches the man’s expression carefully, until finally, their eyes meet again. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” Davin says.

“Yeah!” Renee exclaims, grinning wide. “Admit it. I’m the smartest person in this house.”

Davin laughs. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he says.

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[rkived]

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k 

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better. 

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between. 

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’ 

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed. 

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’ 

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’ 

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship. 

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’ 

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you? 

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms. 

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him. 

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done. 

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in. 

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly. 

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out. 

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good. 

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so. 

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there. 

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party. 

That’s life for you. 

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going. 

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left. 

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do. 

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband. 

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night. 

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks. 

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her. 

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her. 

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead. 

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either. 

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance. 

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation. 

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely. 

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly. 

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list. 

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while. 

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids. 

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine. 

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake. 

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake. 

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’ 

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently. 

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list. 

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out. 

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer. 

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’ 

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now. 

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too. 

You to come back. 

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up. 

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning. 

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before. 

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop. 

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back. 

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest. 

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak. 

It’s his fault after all. 

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings. 

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep. 

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift. 

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you. 

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted? 

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday. 

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house. 

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips. 

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college. 

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much, 

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness. 

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door. 

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood. 

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless. 

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart. 

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back. 

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach. 

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

[sodasback]

Ex BF - Part 2

Drew Starkey x Reader

Part 1

You guys, I changed my mind, this one just works so much better as a Drew Starkey fic ...so fuck it, I’m just gonna post what I had on my deactivated blog. 

It had been months since you ran into Josh on set at Drew’s work. Luckily, Drew was only in a couple scenes for that project and he only worked on that show one more day without running into Josh. Now, you, Drew and a lot of the Outer Banks crew were all in LA again and going out to a bar.

Unfortunately for you, and everyone that night, Josh and his friends were at the same bar.

“Oh hey, it’s y/n and her movie star boyfriend, Andrew.” Josh said as he appeared next to you and drunkenly leaned an arm on your shoulder. If looks could kill, the look on Drew’s face would have for sure been the death of Josh. It was a mixture of shock and rage at the audacity of this guy. Drew was so taken aback, he didn’t know how to react.

You uncomfortably chuckled and squirmed out from under Josh’s arm to stand in front of Drew quickly, not knowing if Drew’s truly calm nature could be tested any further. “Mhmm, great to see you Josh.” You stated dismissively.

Your effort to separate them was lost as Drew instantly and easily maneuvered you behind him protectively. You turned for the bar as quickly as possible, hoping to end the situation there, so you grabbed Drew’s hand to pull him along with you.

“Aww, y/n/n, you’re not gonna stay and let me get to know your little boyfriend?”

You felt dead weight behind you as you tried to pull Drew away. 

“Bro, I’m telling you right now, back the fuck off.” Drew stated. You whirled around to get in front of him, as Josh took a step forward and titled his chin up, “Or what?”

You put your hands on Drew’s chest. He easily looked over your head to continue glaring at Josh.

“Drew” you said sternly. He glanced down at you for a second, before looking back up at Josh. Josh smirked and waited to see what Drew was gonna do. “He’s not worth it. Trust me.” You said. Drew looked down at you and softened. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder an you wrapped both arms around his waist to walk to the bar. 

“You know, as hot as you are when you get all scary like that. I really really don’t want you getting in a fight because I have an absolutely horrible ex boyfriend.” 

You emphasized the first part of this sentence, but Drew just gave you a deadpan stare. He knew you were trying to flirt with him to get him to relax. And you knew it was too late at this point. As evolved and emotionally intelligent as Drew was, he had now entered caveman mode. Josh challenging him because of you triggered instincts deep within him to meet that challenge aka defending your honor. ...1 point toxic masculinity, 0 points non-violent female empowerment.

At this point in your life, you were happy. You had everything you wanted in your career. You had a beautiful apartment. Your family was healthy. You had the best friends you could ask for. And of course, you had Drew. Drew was the one. He was your soulmate. Your best friend. And you knew it. You didn’t feel the need to put Josh in his place any more. You just wanted to keep enjoying your life. You had time to make peace with what Josh did to you and you felt like you moved past it and him. Yeah, you felt like you were past it, you tried to convince yourself. It had been years since the incident happened and you and Josh broke up...

Flashback

You and Josh were 20 and had been on and off for a couple years. One night, you had both been out, when you started fighting, something that wasn’t new to your relationship. Josh had been flirting with another girl a lot of the night and gaslighting you to make you feel like you were imagining it. As you brought up the flirting again, he was reaching for his car keys. You were pissed that he was using this tactic again. He would leave until you calmed down and started to worry about him so much that you would just finally give in and forget the fight, instead of holding him accountable. You were so mad at him for making you feel like you were crazy and for always manipulating you by leaving. You couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “Sure, just leave again. Fucking typical, Josh. Like father, like son, I guess.”

And before you could even process what happened, the whole right side of your face was stinging, a cut near eye was bleeding from his ring and your ears were ringing. Josh had just backhanded you hard. Time stood still for a moment as your hand went to cradle your cheek. You were absolutely shocked.

“Oh fuck. You okay?” 

You finally looked up at him with an unreadable expression on your face. “..don’t make this a big deal, okay? That was a really shitty thing to say and you just made me so mad, I couldn’t help i-” At that point, you stormed into the bedroom and locked the door. He now was faced with you being upset and maybe even losing you; he started knocking on the door and apologizing profusely after realizing your reaction. You were completely blocking out all the noise coming from the other side of the door as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

Okay, that was a really low blow. Yeah, but he HIT you.

I definitely shouldn’t have said that. But he HIT you.

Maybe I deserved it. No, he HIT you. You continued to argue with yourself.

What would you tell your y/bff’s/n if this happened to her?

What would your mom or dad tell you right now?

If he did it once, he could do it again.

...this isn’t the first time you’ve been scared of him.

...but he seems genuinely really sorry.

You opened the door to find Josh sitting on the ground leaning against the wall. He looked at you scared and hopeful, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry for what I said. It was really unfair and hurtful of me.” You stated genuinely.

Relief washed over his face for a second, “I’m so sorry baby. I swear that will never happen again.” He said, as he got up and he started to make his way to hug you. 

“Yeah, I know it will never happen again...” you held your hand out to stop him from touching you, confusion now evident in his expression, “because we’re done.”

His face dropped, expression now being somewhere between confused, angry and disappointed. Josh wasn’t used to you putting up boundaries and not letting him get away with all the shit he pulled. “Y/N-” he started. 

“No.” You said adamantly, “Frankly, I don’t care how sorry you are. I don’t care how much I pissed you off. I don’t care how much you promise that will never happen again. Our relationship was toxic before what just happened. I know I’m not perfect and I have a lot of things to work on. But I 1000% know in my bones, that I WILL NEVER let you hit me again. I deserve better. We’re done. I’m going to my parents’ house. I’m coming back tomorrow between 10 and 2 to get my stuff. Don’t be here.”

A couple months later, you had a text from an unknown number. It was Josh borrowing a friend’s phone to text you, since you blocked any way he had to contact you. He apologized. He held himself accountable. There was no deflecting or manipulating in the message and he promised he would never contact you again. You replied: “Thank you for your apology. Yes, I’d appreciate it if you don’t contact me again.”

And that was it. You ran into him briefly at the grocery store once and you had been in a really good mood. Your interaction was light and almost flirty. You felt so ashamed about it later, but you hadn’t seen or heard from Josh again until years later, with Drew on set. And little did you know, seeing you with Drew set something off in Josh that he just couldn’t let go.

-

As you stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention, you turned to see the caveman version of your gorgeous boyfriend still glaring, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Babe.” You said and he looked at you.

“He’s got fuckin nerve.” He said shaking his head and you took a deep breath ready for the rant, “First off, called me a movie star. I am a serious actor, Y/N.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at Drew being offended anything this asshole said and Drew’s eyes widened at you and you stifled a giggle while you laced your hands around his neck to appease him, “Mhmm” you encouraged. 

“And then he called me ‘Andrew’“ Drew went on. And you nodded and gave him a sympathetic pout, “I know, I heard.”

“And THEN, he has the AUDACITY to put his fucking arm around you?! Bro, I’m heateddddd-” He continued, barely paying attention to you as you leaned your body against his. You ignored the fact that he just called you bro and tried a different tact. 

“Drew, stop. You can’t get into a bar fight. Think about your job.”

“I don’t care about my job. I care about you.”

“That’s not true. You do care about your job. And I know you care about me. But if you get into a fight right now, it’s not gonna change what he did to me. It was a long time ago. We’re not together anymore. I’m over it. Punching him is not gonna do anything except jeopardize your future.”

Drew still had his fight face on, “Well, knocking that smirk off his fucking face would sure make me feel better.” He said and you scowled at him. “And for the record, I don’t think you’re over it. And you don’t have to be. You never have to be over it. And that doesn’t mean you aren’t fucking strong and badass.” 

You were quiet as you contemplated what Drew said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before looking at you. “Okay” he said softly. 

 “Thank you” you said softly before you pulled him down to kiss him. After a minute of you successfully distracting him with a pretty passionate slow kiss, you felt Drew melt a little. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. Do you want to leave? Like do you not feel like being out anymore?” He asked sweetly.

“No, I’m okay. He’s just being a drunk asshole.” You turned away to grab the drinks the bartender poured for you and Drew, “We probably won’t even see him for the rest of the night.” 

You turned back and realized caveman Drew was now glaring at Josh again as you spoke, “..or not.” You rolled your eyes.

Despite the bad beginning, you and your friends ended up having fun as the night went on. And you and Drew proceeded to drink. Which was probably not the smartest decision. You were both feistier when you drank and you knew Drew’s natural state of calmness was only going to wear off as the night went on.

Eventually, you had to go to the bathroom. But you didn’t trust Josh to not instigate something with Drew while you were gone and you didn’t trust Drew to not try and avenge your honor while you were gone either. So you found Austin, Chase and JD. Chase and JD were only half-listening as they watched whatever game was on the tvs at the semi-crowded bar. 

“Guys, I need you to watch Drew while I go pee.” You said. Drew rolled his eyes and hung his head back with a groan.

“What’s the rig?” Austin asked, ironically using his favorite word as he put one arm on your shoulder and the other on Drew’s.

“Drew is trying to fight my ex-boyfriend and you need to stop him from ruining his career and/or going to jail for assault.” You looked at Drew as you finished your sentence remind him that he could get in serious trouble for getting in a fight. Drew scoffed as Austin looked to him for confirmation of what you were saying.

“He called me a movie star dude” Drew said.

“Oooff” Austin agreed that this was a major dig.

“And then he called me ‘Andrew’“

“Ahhh man” Austin commiserated, “This kid deserves to get hit for sure.”

“Austin!” You scolded, “You are not helping!”

“Bro, that’s not even half of it. Like what he did to Y/N; he deserves to get the absolute shit beat out of him, I promise you-”

“Okay, stop! We’re not discussing this. Chase, JD, you are in charge of Drew. Keep him occupied while I go pee and don’t let him ruin his entire life by getting in a stupid bar fight. And Austin, stop encouraging him and keep your mouth shut til I get back please!” You commanded, as you pushed Drew and Austin toward Chase and JD. JD gave you a salute while he put his arm around Drew’s shoulders. 

While you were gone, Drew was drunk and spilling all your business, trying to get all 3, also drunk, boys on his side. “Guys, you don’t even know. This guy is the biggest asshole.”

“Wait, is he really? Or do you just not like him because he’s y/n’s ex?” JD asked.

“No dude. First of all, he like cheated on her a bunch of times; he was super manipulative and .. he fucking hit her once dude.”

The all looked at each other, “What the fuck?!”

“Like hit her?”

“Yeahhhhhh, like physically hit her face.”

“Well you are completely justified, brother.”

“Yeah, we have your back man, whatever happens.” They all nodded and broke out of their little huddle.

“Look! No fighting!” Chase said proudly when you got back, opening up his arms.

“Good job Chase. Gold star” You said returning his quick side hug.

The group decided it was time to go to one more bar, so you all walked out the back ext into a big alley. Where, of course, Josh and his friends were smoking and noticed your crew before you noticed them.

“You think her movie star boyfriend knows what an uptight little prude she used to be?” Josh said to his friend loud enough for you to hear. You honestly didn’t even care about what Josh said, you knew he was trying to get Drew to react. And you knew even your sweet, soft Drew was not immune to anger getting the best of him. Drew stopped walking, still slightly turned away from Josh and just shook his head, not believing Josh’s audacity. 

Even though the guys had been supportive when they were talking to Drew about fighting Josh, no one actually wanted that to happen. So Austin was quickly by Drew’s side, “Don’t do it bro. It’s not worth it.”

“Drew.” You said trying, to get him to focus on you. Unfortunately, you were with a group of boys full of testosterone and Chase was also feeling feisty and protective. 

“Hey, why don’t you shut the fuck up bro” Chase said, taking a step toward Josh, but luckily a level-headed JD was immediately pushing Chase softly backward. 

“Ooh maybe, she’s not such a prude anymore. Maybe she’s sleeping with the whole cast; they’re all so protective of her.” Josh laughed.

“Josh stop! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You yelled at him. And Drew was instantly moving in front of you, “You need to stop talking right now man.” Drew said in a tone that made the hair on your arms stand up. You could feel the tension rolling off Drew.

“Drew calm down. Please.” You pleaded as he looked down at you.

“Y/n, I can’t let him talk about you that way.”

“He’s trying to get under your skin. That’s what he wants.”

“Yeah, well it’s fucking working.”

“Drew, come on. Let’s just go home.” He began to give in as you pulled his arm. 

Josh was obviously determined for a fight, because the next thing that came out of his mouth made it impossible for anyone to stop Drew.

“Hey good luck with y/n, man. I treated her like trash for years and she still came running back to me, bitch has got issu-” And before he could utter another word, Drew’s fist connected with his jaw. 

“Fuck.” You cursed as your hands went through your hair and you backed up between Austin, Chase and JD.

Josh recovered and hit Drew in the eye. 

You gasped. Turning into JD’s chest and he protectively wrapped his arms around you. Drew hit Josh again and he fell to the ground. Drew bent over him and punched him again. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her again!” He yelled through gritted teeth, “Don’t look at her again. And if you EVER touch her again, I swear to God-” he spat in between a few more punches. 

“Drew! Please!” You yelled and finally Austin pulled him back. “That’s enough, bro.” 

“Come on” JD still had his arms around you, walking you away from everything. 

Drew was breathing heavy and trying to overcome his adrenaline. You and JD were already around the corner with most of the group. 

“Come on, let’s go” Chase ushered Drew away with Austin. And they followed in the same direction. Drew saw you walking ahead of him. 

“Y/N” he called after you softly. You stopped and turned around. He was already right there enveloping you in his arms. 

“Fuck y/n. I’m so sorry.” He muttered kissing the top of your head. You just kept holding each other while the group called Ubers. 

You pulled away from him a little, “Are you okay?” You asked trying to get a look at the bruise forming on his face. “Yeah, baby. I’m fine. I’m so sorry I did that. I’m sorry I put you in this situation.” He said, hugging you again. After a long pause, you pulled up and looked up at him:

“Thank you.” You stated genuinely and Drew looked at you surprised. But while you continued to look at each other, you both understood without saying anything more. You both knew it wasn’t okay that Drew just got in a fight. And you both knew you didn’t need your boyfriend to defend you honor, but you were thankful someone finally had.

Taglist: @moniamaybank @abbyj1822 @october-cameron @hernameisnoell @railmerafe @stupidpendeja @lemur46 @phantompogues 

[mansions-maiden]

Hello! I am so happy your requests are open! Could you write for the grumpy bröer, Theo and prompt #19: "we can share, only if I can feed you." Thank you!

Hello dear anon! Hope you're having a wonderful day/night. Sorry it took so much time to complete this. Hope you enjoy this!

Prompt:19. We can share, only if I can feed you

Characters: Theo, gn! MC. (not in relationship)

words: 1.3K

A/n: Cedric is side character in Theo's route. He is Theo's client

The evident discontent in those stormy blue eyes only deepened the delighted grin on your face. An incessant amusement danced in your eyes, which only prompted Theo to deepen his skin prickling glare on his co-worker as if adding fuel to the fire.

His desire only grew more when he looked in your direction, or quite precisely, at the stack of syrup-dipped pancakes in front of you.

But he had to control himself, as he remembered that he had lost the bet to you. He impatiently tapped his fingers against the table, which didn't go unheard by you. Your smile became more sympathetic and less of amusement as you saw his impatience.

You reminisced how you got how you had won the bet.

THE PREVIOUS DAY:

You and Theo were out in the city to select the paintings for his clients. Both picked a painting each to sell to Cedric, your esteemed customer.

You looked at your selection and smiled proudly to yourself. "I'm sure Cedric will choose my painting tomorrow. Theo scoffed beside you and crossed his arms. "No, knabbeltje. He's going to choose MY painting. I know his tastes and likes very well. "

"Oh please, Theo! Just because you are a famous art dealer here doesn't mean that your customers wouldn't like other's selection!" You turned to him with a sigh.

Theo raised a single eyebrow, a look of amusement in his eyes. He ran his fingers through his chestnut hair, his ocean blue eyes focusing on the small figure in front of him.

"The pup is barking against her master now, eh?"

"Speak for yourself, 'master.' "You scoffed exasperatedly.

Theo laughed mirthfully, amusement dripping in his laughter. "If you're so confident in your selection, Why don't we have a challenge?"

Your eyes perked up in interest at his statement. "Whomever's selection is picked by Cedric will be the winner tomorrow. "

You turned to him fully and asked," What will the winner get?"

Theo thought for a while before replying," The winner will get a treat from the loser in the parlour. And the losing one gets nothing to eat." You naturally accepted the challenge.

You were fuelled with a competitive spirit and accepted the challenge. Deep down, you were nervous. You knew this enterprising devil was not famous without any reason. His sharp eye and spot-on guess of others' character gives him a huge advantage over you. He's a prodigy, after all. But it was too late to take back your words by now.

The following day, you both went to Cedric's home with your paintings. You and Theo confidently smirked at each other, both of you willing to win the challenge at any cost. There was a playful tense atmosphere engulfing you both.

You asked Cedric to select a painting between the two that spoke to him the most. Time seemed to flow slowly as Cedric's hand touched his favourite painting. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

You opened your eyes, only to be greeted with a baffled expression on Theo's face. Cedric's hand was atop your painting. Your lips immediately broke into the broadest smile they can form, and your eyes were brimming with the confidence of a person who overcame their greatest difficulty.

You both finished selling the painting to him and came outside. You tapped Theo's shoulder with a grin on your face and chirped, "Well 'Master,' looks like the amateur has won the challenge this time.'

Theo smiled back at you genuinely, his fine features making him look even more boyish and handsome than usual. Your heart skipped a beat at his rare but genuine smile on his lips.

"Well, a deal is a deal. Let's go to the parlour, hondje. Gotta reward you for your hard work and victory. Looks like you're shining under my training."

You both shook your hands and smiled at each other, equally happy and feeling admiration for each other.

Theo took you to the parlour as he promised, and your mind was urging you to avenge Theo harmlessly. You thought of ways to tease Theo, and a brilliant idea popped up in your mind.

You just had to confirm one thing with him. "What was the condition again Theo, the one who lost gets nothing to eat, no?"

Theo nodded in agreement. You both took a seat. You called the waiter and were ready to give your order. But- just to taunt him, you pretended to go through the menu, thinking aloud. "Um- I crave something sweet. How about I order pancakes, Theo-? Oh, and also, I should not forget the syrup."

Theo understood your trick. Yet, he was getting riled up because you were taking full advantage of the challenge in your own way.

"Order whatever you want. And make it quick. I am not going to sit here and wait forever as you nibble on it."

You pouted at him. "I wanted to savour the pancakes slowly as I worked hard. But it looks like I can't…." You looked down at the table.

Theo sighed as he replied, "okay, stop right there. You don't have to guilt-trip me, you know? Do whatever you want."

You smiled at him, knowing that you had won the 'argument.' You ordered pancakes, and of course, the sweet syrup.

At present:

While you were taking your own sweet time enjoying the pancakes, looking at Theo trying to distract himself from his all-time favourite snack made you feel a bit guilty. You thought you had your share of fun, but you thought a little bit more of it wouldn't hurt anyone.

You looked at Theo and said, "Theo, I can't eat at peace while you are sitting there both patiently and impatiently at the same time somehow. So shall I propose an Idea?"

Theo leaned forward in his chair, a hint of curiosity shining in his eyes. "We can share the pancake, equally between us. But-" you gave a pause, looking at Theo in the eye. "But, what? Continue it, hondje."

You cleared your throat, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. "But- we can share, but only if I can feed you. "

Theo was taken aback by your proposal. He looked between you and the stack of pancakes, looking thoughtful. You were waiting for his decision. He looked hesitant, but he gave in to the temptation and accepted it. You laughed at him, amused by the way the tables had turned.

You cut into the pancakes and held your fork to his mouth, waiting for him to eat it. He nibbled at them, all the while looking away from you. The littlest hints of blush on his cheeks made you flustered as well, suddenly wondering how you look like to the other people. You looked at the glass window beside you, reflecting both of you. You looked like a couple, and suddenly, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

All of your confidence melted right there, just like the butter on the pancakes. You were about you retract your hand back, but Theo caught it gently before you could do it. He smiled at you and asked, "Are you taking back your deal? Will you leave me hungry? " You slowly shook your head, and Theo ate the remaining piece on the fork and grinned at you. "Eat fast. I also want to have my share of pancakes, as you said."

You realised it suddenly and nodded, quickly finishing up the remaining part of the pancake. Theo took the remaining half and ate it, still having a smug look on his face.

That entire evening, you were distracted, your thoughts filled with Theo and the failed challenge, which you thought would win by riling him up.

Hope you enjoyed reading it!

[dynyamight]

For the interaction + action ask: “ You have the most beautiful eyes, I’ve ever seen. “ + attempts to pickpocket, but gropes instead

send me an interaction ask bonus + action

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen." + attempts to pickpocket, but gropes instead

From the moment he landed on the feeble looking man, making his way down the cobblestone pathway, Bakugou knew that was his next target.

Dressed in an oversized robe, with only his soft, round face showing, the merchant strolled the empty street with a satchel, visibly filled with who knows what. But, Bakugou had a gut feeling that it had to be valuables and riches.

The green haired fool had his hands protectively around its shoulder strap; of course there had to be something worth selling.

Swiftly, Bakugou hightailed, right behind the merchant, making sure to keep a relatively natural distance between them. Fortunately for him, the night sky allowed his presence to be hidden better, with only the dim street lamps barely making light.

When the merchant makes a turn, around the corner of the next street, Bakugou allows himself a few seconds to slow down. Give his target some time to look back, and notice nothing.

After his small breather, Bakugou then makes the turn.

“Hi!” The merchant greets in his face.

Taken aback, Bakugou’s left stumbling backwards, barely catching himself in the process. “What the- Holy shit.”

“I deeply apologize, I didn’t mean to scare you so suddenly.” The merchant smiles feebly, his expression painted with worry. “I just noticed we were headed the same way, and I was wondering if you too are wanting to meet with Wizard Yagi?”

Wizard who?

Now, usually, Bakugou would have dropped the mission, head over and found a different person. There’s no point in trying to steal from someone who already knows your face, and has caught you in the act. It ruins the fun in thievery, and Bakugou simply just doesn’t enjoy lying, due to having to talk to the other person.

He prefers to do the least amount of talking possible.

However, today was a complete bust. Bakugou hasn’t been as lucky as he usually is, stealing empty bags, and pickpocketing fool’s gold and counterfeit goods. It’s just been the fucking worst, to say the least.

So, yeah, he’s desperate as fuck. And, this guy looks like he could barely hurt an ant, without bursting into fat welts.

“Sure am.” Bakugou lies, offering an open hand. “You must be Wizard Yagi’s apprentice?”

Green eyes light up, and quickly their hands are met into a firm handshake. “Why yes! How did you know?”

Lucky guess. “The whole town’s been hearing about you. Someone who had extremely, wondrous potential. A fucking prodigy, genius even.”

There’s a slight blush that forms over the merchant’s face. “O-Oh, I wouldn’t say that. The rumors are always so exaggerated these days.”

“Pfft, c’mon. You’re fucking well known.” Bakugou states easily, “I bet you’re the best at magic.”

“Um, I don’t actually use magic.” The merchant weakly admits.

“You don’t?” Shit.

“D-Don’t worry!” He reassures quickly, hands waving dismissively in the air, “It’s a common mistake the folks say.”

“Oh, that’s a fucking relief.” Bakugou genuinely breathes out.

“All is forgiven.” The merchant chuckles, finally gesturing to his satchel at his side. “You see, I gather bunches of resources from the forest, as well as pick up spices and herbals from different shops, and create healing potions. If I could use magic, I think it would have been Light magic.”

“You can’t possibly collect so much, without a couple of coins in your bag.” Bakugou suggests.

“A-Ah, well,” The merchant scratches the side of his cheek, donned with freckles, “I do have riches, in order to trade and purchase.”

It has Bakugou smiling bright. “No kidding.”

“Um, anyways,” The merchant instantly shifts the conversation, “Why don’t we walk together over to my master’s lodging? It can get a little dangerous around here.”

“My, how kind of you. You’d do that for someone like me?” Bakugou teases outright.

The merchant nods confidently. “Yeah, I can protect you, of course.”

What a fucking liar. “Lead the way, then.”

With his huge robe in the way, Bakugou has come to the terrible conclusion that while they walk, he can’t seem to grab the satchel. Hidden by the long cloth, it will continuously appear and disappear, with each step the young man took. It irritated Bakugou, to no end.

“I never got your name.” The merchant chimes from in front.

“It’s Bakugou.” He huffs, still eying at his side.

“My name is Midoriya!” The merchant chuckles airly, shaking his head. “Sorry, you probably knew that already. It’s a force of habit.”

Thank god, he would have never guessed. “Don’t sweat it. I do that shit all the time.”

Immediately, Midoriya halts in his steps. And, before Bakugou could ask, he turns to face him, a wide, joyous smile printed on his face. “Really? You do that, too?”

The satchel has now flung behind Midoriya, no longer at his side. For fuck’s sake.

Nothing comes easy to Bakugou. Hard life comes with hard, strifling times.

“Y-Yeah,” He barely grits out through his teeth, pressing down on the urge to tackle Midoriya, right here and now. “Forgetful ass motherfucker. That’s me.”

“While your language is a bit crass, I completely understand how you feel!” Midoriya states, eyes shining in delight. “It’s like I’ll go to the theater, and the ticket master will say ‘Enjoy the show!’, and I say ‘Thank you, you too!’ It’s absolutely dreadful, right?”

Bakugou has never said that stupid shit, in his entire life. Who even does that?

Apparently, this idiot.

“Absolutely dreadful.” He forces himself to agree.

“My, we have so much in common!” Midoriya laughs, bringing his hands together in a fold. “Perhaps we were bound to meet; you and I. Out here, on this fateful night!”

Sounds terribly romantic. Which then, just like a lightbulb, perfectly brings a brilliant idea in Bakugou’s mind. A way to make Midoriya stand still, and reach around his back for that damn bag.

“Say,” Bakugou begins, taking a step closer, inching his face near, “Did anyone ever tell you are a lovely sight to witness?”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, lips agape in shock. “I-I am?” He weakly breathes out.

“The damn sunset would grow jealous of your rare beauty. Trust me.” Bakugou brings his right hand up Midoriya’s face, gently cupping his cheek. “Believe me.”

He can feel the warmth hit his palm, before he sees the red hue flush across Midoriya’s face. “U-Um, thank you, Bakugou. That’s rather kind of you to say.”

“You know, if we had met under different circumstances,” Bakugou whispers, making sure to add a hint of sultry and sweet into his rough voice, “I know exactly what I would have said, to grab your attention.”

With his lingering left hand, Bakugou reaches around Midoriya’s side. He hovers just slightly over his waist, towards his backside.

At this point, now he was waiting for the right moment.

Despite his calculated movements, Midoriya still had no idea. “Wh-What would you have said, if you don’t mind me asking?” He mumbles quietly.

“I’d say,” Bakugou smirks, ‘Excuse me, sir. You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.”

And, with those emerald, pretty eyes staring back at him in awe, Bakugou finally grabs at the satchel with a tight grip.

There was no buckle. No riches he felt. No crunch from herbs or spices. There was literally nothing he felt in his hand.

Except a piece of firm ass.

And the hard fist that slammed into Bakugou’s face left him unconscious, out on the street.

[more-stuff-of-pi]

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s  most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--���

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie​, @gigglyparker​ (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

[oliverwxod]

Where he stood (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Giving away the shield leads to more than Bucky and Y/n being angry at Sam, but leading to unsaid things and hidden feelings. ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS.

 "Sam, how could you? How could you do this?" Y/n was not happy, following after the man as he walked away from her, not wanting to hear it. "Do not ignore me Wilson" she cried, following closer behind him now as he tried to tune her out. Sam was sick and tired of hearing it. 

 "God damn it Y/n" Sam spoke angrily, coming to a stop and finally turning to face her, finally looking her in the eyes. "I had to" he replied.

 "That shield was Steve's! then HE gave it to you. He gave it to you Sam! You can't-" She huffed a breath in anger as she tried to find the words to say "you can't just give it away"

 "It's done now Y/n." He grit out through clenched teeth. "Now leave it, I've got more important things to do" 

 "More important things to do? What's more important than this? Than some wanna be captain America taking Steves place, taking Steve's shield! Why aren't you even bothered by this? It should be Steve there!" She was getting worked up now. 

 "Yeah- well if you hadn't noticed y/n, Steve's not here and he's not coming back" he knew it was harsh to say, especially to her after how delicate the subject normally was, but he didn't have the time and he already felt bad enough.

 "Sam" the angry voice of a new person now echoed around the room. Sam rolled his eyes, he really couldn't deal with one angry person, but now Bucky had decided to also pay him a visit. 

"Bucky" Sam spoke "long time no see" 

 "How could you?" Bucky asked, seething in anger, his eyes glowering in hatred, jaw clenched extremely tightly as he stared him down. “you had no right”

 "I'm not dealing with this now, from either of you" Sam grit out. It was only then that Bucky realised he wasn't the only one there. He was taken aback when his eyes landed on her, y/n. 

 "Y/n" Bucky spoke quietly in surprise. 

 Sam cocked an eyebrow at the way they were staring at each other. 

 "Bucky" she said politely before looking back to Sam.

 They hadn't seen each other since that night. A night of heartbreak when they both couldn't find the words to say after Steve had left them earlier that week. Instead they spoke through their bodies, allowing each other to take the pain away, the pain of Bucky losing his best friend when he had only just gotten him back. And Y/n, the pain of losing the man she was in love with, who chose a life he had always dreamed of over her. 

 She had left in the morning, watching the soldier sleep peacefully next to her, a white sheet as pure as snow doing little to cover his naked body from her view. She had decided she couldn't be vulnerable to anyone anymore. Especially not another super soldier.

 "You need to get it back" y/n spoke to him, Sam only turning back to walk away from her. Both her and Bucky followed him either side, both hounding him with questions 

 "Shut up" Sam finally raised his voice. 

"You didn't think that this wasn't hard for me? It was. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do, but I did it and it's done, now end of" 

 "No. It's not end of" Bucky spoke distressed.

Y/n assessed the situation, Sam looked really tired and Bucky looked intensely angry. Nothing good was going to come out of this, constant arguing back and forth. 

“okay guys, let’s just stop and talk this out without getting any more angrier” she said putting on her calmest voice and trying to breathe through her nose to push back how she was really feeling. 

“there’s nothing to talk about Y/n” Sam sighed deeply. “I've got things to do” 

“well... we will come with you then” she spoke. 

“no” 

“Barnes?” she spoke, eyes glancing over to him for a silent cry of help, he seemed to understand exactly what she was thinking and how she was thinking. He alway could with her.

“we’re coming with you” he spoke, voice less angry now. 

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

it was silently awkward on the jet. None of them saying anything, it had been a while since they had all seen each other, even longer for Y/n who hadn’t had contact with either of them since a few weeks after Steve left for good. 

Y/n hated the tension but hated small talk even more, she couldn’t find the words to say, opening her mouth every couple of minutes to speak, but deciding against it. 

Bucky watched her in slight amusement while still managing to send glares Sam’s way.

“I can’t take this” Sam said staring at Bucky. “You look like you’re trying to kill me with your eyes.” 

“I am” Bucky replied bluntly.

“great” he spoke. “and you?” he asked directing his gaze towards Y/n who shrugged. 

“it crossed my mind” she said. 

“Nice” he spoke “so I'm stuck here with two assassins who both are thinking of murdering me. I feel so safe” he smiled sarcastically.  

“why did you do it?” she asked genuinely. 

Sam sighed, staring at her with complete honestly. 

“It didn’t belong to me. It didn’t feel right” he said, but he couldn’t meet her eyes, neither Bucky’s. 

“He gave it to you for a reason” Y/n said, slightly bitter. 

“where have you been?” Sam directed the questions at her now. She had fully disappeared off the face of the earth on that fateful day, to only show up out of the blue and somehow knowing exactly where to find him. 

“around” she shrugged brushing it off. “just trying to live a normal life” 

Bucky scoffed, chuckling under his breath. She narrowed her eyes at him in irritation. 

“something to say?” she asked. 

“you’ll never live a normal life” he said giving her a stare so plain it almost hurt. 

“I’ve realised” she huffed in annoyance at the fact. 

She realised the minute she turned her TV on and saw a knock off Captain America, proudly holding a shield on live television. She had tried so hard to forget about Steve, forget about her life but it was impossible, of course it was, she couldn’t believe she ever thought she could move on. 

She remembered seething in anger, teary eyes watching this stranger grip Steve’s shield. She had run to the bathroom to throw up, the overwhelming rush of emotions was too much. She wasn’t ready to move on just yet.

She sat in silence again, listening to Bucky and Sam bicker. She stared at the side of the super soldiers face, her thoughts drifting to the last time she saw him. 

“make me forget” she whispered “please”

“I’ll always make you forget” he promised, brushing a stray hair from her face, thumb catching the tear from the corner of her eyes before it had a chance to fall. 

As if Bucky knew what she was thinking he turned to meet her eyes, an unreadable emotion on his face. 

Why did it have to be Steve that brought them back together, he thought. How could he ever be honest about how he felt when she would never be over him. 

“so you’re still going on missions?” Y/n spoke up, directing the question very obviously at Sam. She had no idea what Bucky was doing but she had kept tabs on all the Avengers whose files were easily accessible. 

Bucky’s file had nothing on his previous where about or job. 

Sam nodded, passing her a phone with a video already pulled up on screen. She pressed play watching as a group of people were running from the police, it zeroed in on a particular muscular looking person, Y/n gasping as she saw him throw a police officer into a lamp post with extreme force. 

“super soldiers?” she gasped, looking up at Sam before glancing to Bucky with wide eyes. 

“super soldiers?” Sam spoke as if he hadn’t considered the possibility. 

“I uh- this person is built exactly like one” she spoke almost embarrassed. She had experience with not only one, but two super soldiers, she knew exactly how they were built. 

Bucky blushed slightly, his thoughts going back to that night like hers had just minutes ago. 

Soft hands grabbed gently at his shoulders, exploring a path down his scarred arm, he shivered, easily manhandling her onto her back as his weight pressed down against her, lips pressed softly to the skin of her neck as his body melded to her own.

“Bucky” 

He often found his thoughts drifting back to that night. Sometimes when he was having trouble sleeping he tried to remember every single little detail and word whispered intimately into his ear and it calmed him down. 

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

Y/n had no idea how a simple intended talk to Sam ended up with her thrown back into the field, fighting alongside the stranger that tried to call himself Captain America. She hated every second, not sparing her distaste for him at all. Bucky seemed to be doing the same, even Sam had joined in with glaring at him

Y/n had caught the shield, holding it in her hand for a few seconds longer than needed before throwing it back, hitting the person next to the new Captain, it had skimmed him too just as she had intended, a small unsaid threat lingering in her glare. 

Sam had disappeared, Bucky too, she thought maybe this would be a great time to take the shield and run but he had caught on, overly suspicious of her from the start, the man standing in a suit not made for him threw the shield at her hitting her straight in the side as she fell from the moving truck.

Bucky heard a scream, watching as she fell off the side of the truck, without thought he jumped after her, catching her in his arms and turning them so she fell onto him when they hit the ground; he winced briefly before checking she was okay. 

“I'm going to kill him” she spoke angrily trying to get up but Bucky held her down, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as she thrashed around.

“shhh”

“that smug son of a bitc-”

“calm down” he soothed, but she carried on kicking at him.

“let go of me” 

“doll” he spoke and she froze before she stopped resisting completely. 

Bucky let out a breath of air and relaxed too, mindlessly running his hand up and down her back to calm her more. 

Her mind once again drifting to somewhere else. 

Buckys hand trailed gently down her naked body, soothing over the dips of her collar bones before skimming the side of her ribs, a soft soothing pattern that lulled her to sleep, her breathing evening out.

“sweet dreams doll”

“there you are” Sam’s voice was loud as he ran to them out of breath. 

Y/n stood up, shoulders squared as she glared at him. 

“did you see what that son of a bitch did?” 

“who? Bucky?” Sam asked confused. 

“no, that asshole” she huffed “he hit me- he hit me with the shield” 

“look” he sighed  “we’re in the ass end of nowhere right now, lets go find somewhere to sleep and figure out a plan, its getting dark” Sam tried to reason, Y/n knew it was a pleads because he was extremely tired. 

“no. I’m going to find him and -”

“Y/n” Bucky spoke, a stern tone reminding her of the voice Steve used to use when she stepped out of line on the field, her heart lurched painfully as she gave in following behind the two men who had started to walk along a dirt trail of road. 

Part 2 anyone? I have some good ideas for some more bits that will be more exciting

[kodzukenscorner]

Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Ushijima, and Atsumu react to your curly hair

anon asked: Hi! I just saw request are open, I’m so excited!!! If your comfortable can you do a couple boys (Oikawa, Iwa, Ushijima, and Atsumu) with a girl with big curly hair? Maybe she’s a foreign student, so they’re not ised to seeing that hair type in japan at all?

wc: 1,590

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

Oikawa

He is so enamored the first time he sees your hair

Let’s be real, we’ve seen Oikawa’s hair, there’s no way he doesn’t style it or take care of it in some way

So he’s very appreciative of when people have well kept and unique hair

But the first time he sees your hair he is in love with it

He wants to ask so many questions about it and you but he knows you’re new and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you

When he notices that he’s not the only one who has taken a liking to you that idea about not overwhelming you is completely thrown out the window

The second he sees you alone he approaches you with his sickeningly sweet smile

Of course you know who he is, every girl in the school can’t stop gushing about their cute volleyball team captain 

Even if he has no shame, he’s not just out right going to start talking to you about your hair because that’s weird

So instead he gets your name and has some small talk with you

You’re honestly pleasantly surprised that he seems fairly normal and not like the playboy you were anticipating

He even invited you to his volleyball practice which you happily accepted, excited to make some new friends

During the practice you couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued to Oikawa as he unleashed his monster serves 

Not only were you impressed with his skills but the way he looked during his run-up definitely made you feel some type of way 

And not to mention the way his hair bounced back into place as he landed

It looked so cute and soft you just wanted to run your hands through it

After practice he approached you and asked what you thought and you didn’t hold back on your compliments 

“Your serves were incredible and the way your hair bounced was really cute!” 

He was honestly so surprised at how forward you were but jumped on his opportunity when he saw it 

“Wanna touch it?” He offered, leaning his head down for you

You giddily ran your fingers through his locks and just as you suspected, it was as soft and silky as you had hoped 

When you pulled your hand away with a shy smile he reached his hand towards your head

“Can I?” He asked

You nodded and let him grasp a few of your curls and the look in his eyes was like watching a kid open presents on their birthday 

He kept twirling his fingers around your hair like he was in a trance and even got surprised when he seemed to get stuck

Normally you were a bit wary about letting people touch your hair like this

But if it was Oikawa, you weren’t going to complain

Iwaizumi

Honestly, Iwa doesn’t pay much attention to you or your hair at first

He does take notice of you and knows who you are but he’s not someone to just walk up to another person and introduce himself

And trust me, your hair is one of the last things he’s thinking about

But you, on the other hand, cannot stop thinking about his hair

Is it spiky? Is it soft? Does he use product in it?

You often find yourself just staring at him as he runs a hand through his hair

It seems to glide through without any issues so you assume it must be soft and product free, otherwise he wouldn’t be messing with it

All you want is to run your fingers through it yourself and know for certain

You’re usually just staring at him at his volleyball practice, twirling your own hair between your fingers 

Sometimes you forget that he can also see you so when he makes eye contact with you it is slightly mortifying

He can definitely tell that you’ve been staring at him but he has no idea why

Either way, you’re extremely embarrassed and cannot bring yourself to even look in his direction again

Little do you know that Iwa is equally sheepish that someone like you found him attractive or at the very least interesting

Your staring is actually what encourages him to go talk to you instead of just acknowledging your presence like he usually does

He finally approaches you after his practice, ruffling up his hair a bit and you can’t help but stare at him as he does so

This time, now that he’s only a few feet away, he finally realizes what you’ve been staring at and before he can even greet you he acknowledges his dark locks

“It’s naturally like this, so it’s not crunchy or hard or anything...” He trails off, rubbing his neck while avoiding eye contact 

“Oh! I’ve just been wondering what it felt like, sorry for staring so much”

He smiles ever so slightly and shakes his head “Nah, I’m sure you get plenty of people who ask about your hair too”

You both chuckle and laugh with each other for a bit while you properly introduce yourselves 

It was the first time you’d seen him genuinely smile and you decided you liked it a lot

You were going to see him smile more

Ushijima

A king of not really caring about physical appearances in general

But to be completely honest, he sees you and he is immediately wondering about you

Like he thinks you look so interesting and he has so many questions swirling in his head about you

But on the outside he is completely straight faced, not showing what he’s thinking at all

He only ever glances at you every now and again so you honestly don’t think too much about it

But of course you know who he is since he’s basically a celebrity in your school and he seems nice enough

Every time you’ve ever talked to him he’s always been kind and one of the only people who didn’t ogle you for your hair

Although to be fair, if you knew he was thinking about how much he wanted to touch your hair you probably wouldn’t be thinking that

One day he took you completely by surprise, simply walking up to you and asking you about your hair

“Your hair is very interesting, is it naturally like that?” He stood over you with his usual intimidating aura but he seemed genuinely curious

Most people would just whisper about your hair and stare in awe

Some especially rude people would try to touch it without your permission 

Ushijima was the first person to simply walk up to you and start up a conversation 

So you smiled and told him it was just naturally like that 

He took your sweet response as an invitation to sit next to you and continue the conversation

It turned out that the very intimidating volleyball player was actually a very sweet guy

And he’s an incredible listener, he listened to all your struggles and anxieties being at a new foreign school and even reassured you that you’d do fine

He truly felt like the first kind and respectful person you’d met in a long time

From then on you suddenly became the biggest fan of volleyball seemingly overnight

But Ushijima was not complaining and neither were you

Atsumu

The least subtle of them all

He immediately took notice of you and all your quirks

He nudged Osamu and pointed you out to him, commenting on how cool your hair looked 

It definitely made his hair look less cool in comparison and he just had to know your secrets

He approached you day one, asking how you got your hair to be so big and curly and how you had the time to do it in the morning

You were definitely taken aback because he hadn’t even introduced himself to you before asking all the questions

Before you could answer, Osamu was yelling at him from across the room, telling him to at least introduce himself first 

Atsumu actually got a bit red and fumbled around a bit with his introduction while also pointing out his twin brother on the other end of the room who gave a small wave to you

It was actually kind of cute of him so you couldn’t help it when you chuckled and introduced yourself in return

“And to answer your question, my hair is just naturally like this and I don’t use much product”

His jaw actually dropped when you said that, he just couldn’t believe you didn’t even have to try to have such an amazing hairstyle

While he had to dye his just to be different from Osamu

“No way! Can I touch it? Is it soft?” 

You smiled some more at his surprisingly cute antics and nodded your head

He gently placed a hand into your curls and marveled at how they kept their shape no matter how much he played with them

Before he realized it he was playing with your hair for a solid five minutes 

But you seemed rather content so he didn’t particularly feel like stopping

“Huh...it’s so bouncy” He mumbled to himself even though you could hear every word 

It was an odd first encounter but since that day the two of you took turns playing with each other’s hair 

You even curled his once to be like yours and he was laughing the whole time at how ridiculous it looked

“Awww no fair, it looks gorgeous on yer head” 

He was definitely going to be the death of you

[sokkas-honour]

Hi there! Could you write for your #30 for your music playlist? Zuko x reader 😁😁 thank youuu!!!!

nothing has changed - zuko x reader

pairing: zuko x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k with lyrics

notes: reader is katara & sokka’s older sister! this time the lyrics are in bold + italic so that you don’t confuse them with the flashback + dream scenes, not that i think you would but just in case.

warnings: mention of sibling problems, if there’s anything else feel free to lmk!!

-

nothing's quite the same, as it has been on those familiar days,

as the night sky reigned above the fire nation, zuko looked out the window of his palace bedroom, memories flooding back from his time travelling around the world, away from his nation. wether it had been looking for the avatar or actually working with him, you had always somehow been there. first as his enemy, then as his friend, then as his lover.

he remembers the days where you’d find yourself fighting each other; he would attack you with his fire bending while you’d land hits with your battle club, knife or your whales tooth scimitar. when he’d feel nice, back in his avatar hunting days, he’d solely use his duel swords to make the playing field more even but he’d constantly forget that you were able to handle yourself even against benders. he had always found you to be beautiful and the tension between the two of you when you fought was undeniable.

he remembers when he tried to make amends with team avatar and even try to join, he remembers your initial reaction to it. you sided with your sister, not liking the idea of the boy who tried to hunt your friend, your siblings and yourself down, and the idea of accepting someone of the firenation, a nation that had taken your mother from you, into your friend group.

you came around before your sister, having joined your brother and zuko to try and free your father. he had proven himself in terms of having changed and as being a valuable member for the gaang. he still remembers exactly what you said when you came back from the trip.

“zuko!” you called before he could go too far, wanting to give some sort of privacy to the reuniting family. the ex prince stopped in his tracks as he waited for you to catch up to him.

“yeah?” he asked, unsure of what you would say. your brother had already made his amends with him but had warned that although you wouldn’t be as hard as katara, you still might take a little while to come around. either he was about to hear you accept him as part of the group, or you were about to, well he didn’t know.

“i wanted to say thank you. thanks for helping me get my father back. you really have changed.” zuko was a tad bit taken aback, not thinking he’d get your approval right after the trip but it didn’t bother him. a small weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders. you gave him a proud smile and he felt his heart race.

“it was nothing. you both deserve to find your father again.” he blushed, bringing his hand to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. he returned your smile with a small one.

all of a sudden, you grabbed your scimitar and pressed the sharp tooth end lightly on his neck. his heartrate sped up but it wasn’t fully from you being close but also out of fear, sokka hadn’t warned him about this. his eyes widened.

“but if you even dare double cross us. if you even dare lay a finger on either of my siblings, i won’t hesitate to hurt you.” your previously bright face turned dark as you threatened him, not moving your weapon from his neck until he nodded nervously. when he finally did, you lowered it and your face returned to what it was before.

“good, i’m happy to have you as part of the team zuko.” you put your hand on his shoulder as a sign of acceptance, accompanying it with a small grin before turning around to go reunite with both of your siblings and your father.

he laughed a bit at the memory, remembering the fear that he felt during those few seconds but also the weird attraction he still had while you threatened his life.

he also remembers when you both finally admitted your feelings for each other. unbeknownst to him, you had also felt some sort of weird attraction to him when he was still hunting the avatar but it went from a weird and almost uncomfortable attraction, to one of genuine caring and love.

you had both grown rather close after your rescue at the boiling rock, spending many moments together along the beach and in town. it was after seeing the horrible play about their mission thus far, your character seeming to constantly fight with katara over zuko while also being an annoying and overprotective sister, constantly belittling your sibling’s feelings.

zuko remembers you storming out right after the show closed, sokka’s and katara’s characters having almost insulted you multiple times and you just needed some air. the words of the characterised katara still ringing through your head. ‘you’re a terrible sister y/n.’

“hey y/n.” he approached you calmly as you leaned against the balcony, staring at the bright moon that had been your friend during many sleepless nights after your mother died and your father left.

“you ran out of there pretty fast so i just wanted to make sure that you were okay.” zuko informed, leaning his back against the balcony after you gave him no response. he turned his head towards you and searched for a reaction.

“yeah, the show was just.” you took a deep breath, thinking of a word to describe the monstrosity you had just seen. “horrible, let’s put it that way.”

zuko laughed at your bluntness. you turned your gaze away from the moon to zuko, a small smile creeping up on your face at his carefree and content expression. his laugh was also something you didn’t realise that you liked about him but the last couple of days had made you create a long list on things about him that made you swoon.

“that’s certainly one way to put it.” his laughter died down and he met your staring gaze, both of you not breaking it.

“listen, if there was anything happening between katara and you, or if there is anything, i’m totally cool with it.” you blurted out, needing to get it off your chest to have an answer on the relationship portrayed in the show. you knew that katara would’ve told you something if it were to happen but you had to be sure.

“why would? why would something be happening between katara and i?” zuko asked, confused at your question that seemed to have come out of nowhere. the firebender knew that he wasn’t great at expressing his feelings but he had hoped that he’d been somewhat obvious about the way he felt toward you.

“the show, in the show you two have a lot of romantic scenes. that’s literally one of the main fighting points for katara and i’s character, other than me being told i’m a useless and horrible sister.” you mumbled the last part. pushing yourself off from leaning over the balcony to stand up straight, body still not facing zuko.

“you do realise that the show is incredibly inaccurate?” he rose an eyebrow and stared you, confused as to why you would base your information on some horrible adaption.

“yeah but parts of it were true.” your head fell, letting the words of katara’s character get to you.

“hey, you’re not a horrible sister. in fact, i know that sokka and katara would say the opposite, in fact, they already have! multiple times!” zuko wasn’t about to let you beat yourself up over a badly interpreted story that was based off of misinformation. he put his hand on your cheek that had since turned away from him. when you felt his warm hand, your brought yours up to put it on top of it, letting your head settle against his hand and turned to fully face him.

“i know it’s just. katara and sokka have always been closer and, i sometimes neglected katara and was overprotective of her. i had always been closer to my dad so i had no idea how to deal with her and was just jealous of the attention she got as the youngest.” you admitted, not wanting to look into zuko’s eyes as you confessed something that not even your siblings knew.

“that doesn’t mean your a bad sister. katara and sokka both love you and know how much you love and care for them.” he caressed your cheek with his thumb in a caring manor as you finally met his caring gaze once more.

“thanks zuko.” you smiled in recognition, thanking him for his comforting words.

“and not only do katara and sokka love you for who you are, i love you for who you are. the y/n in the show was nothing like the y/n i know.” he ranted, not noticing his confession that slipped but you caught it and a huge smirk grew on your face.

“what?” he stopped talking when he noticed your mischievous grin.

“you love me? zuko we only became friends like two weeks ago.” you laughed, butterflies still dancing in your stomach at the idea of him feeling so strongly towards you in such little time.

“i mean i dont if it’s love but it’s definitely something similar. i like you y/n. you keep me on my toes, you make me laugh, you challenge me to be a better person.” he clarified his previous statement which just made things even better for you.

“uh huh.” you nodded, indicating him to keep going. zuko usually wasn’t the one to have a lot to say but tonight seemed to be a special night.

“and after seeing all the horrible things i’ve done, not only in person, but theyve all gotten thrown back into our faces tonight. it’s totally understandable if you’re not there yet to completely forgive me, i mean i would but.” zuko’s out of character rambling continued, making you laugh but you couldn’t keep letting the poor boy dig himself an even deeper hole so you took a deep breath and grabbed his hand to remove it from your cheek so you could lean in and press your lips against his in order to shut him up.

zuko’s eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by your bold action but you were always the one to take bold moves. after the initial shock, zuko eagerly kissed back, moving his hands to your waist in order to bring you closer to deeper the kiss. some part of him had been waiting for this moment ever since he had laid eyes on you.

“spirits zuko, you never talk that much.” you teased once you broke apart from the kiss which just earned a blush from the raven haired boy.

“well um, i.” zuko stumbled, failing to find a reason for his previous ranting but he never got the chance to answer as you pecked his lips , and you both got interrupted by a certain watertribe boy.

“y/n!” you heard your brother call out, probably concerned at your running away and the fact that you still hadn’t come back.

“looks like sokka’s calling me, if you don’t mind.” zuko unwrapped his arms from your waist and you started walking back inside to the voice who called you. you made sure to send a wink in his direction before you left, leaving the banished prince blushing and with a stupid smile on his face.

zuko grinned as he thought about your first kiss. he sighed happily and went under the covers to doze off and let sleep take over temporarily.

i dream about an old familiar face, then wake up and you're gone without a trace,

“zuko!” the firelord lifted his head up and saw you running towards him down the long hallway of the palace. enormous smile on your face at the sigh of your boyfriend at the end of the hallway.

“y/n!” he greeted you with a mirroring expression and a hug when you finally reached him. arms wrapping around your waist as you cuddled into his chest.

“ i missed you.” you mumbled into his chest, feeling his chest rumble as he chuckled at your statement.

“i missed you too.” he replied, eyes meeting yours as you lifted your head to look at him. he used one of his hands to move the hair out of your face before placing his lips softly onto yours.

“i have news.” you announced as you broke the kiss, a huge grin on your face as you looked up at zuko with an infinite amount of love.

“which is?” he asked, not knowing if he should be concerned or excited.

“well, as you know i went to see katara while i went home and you’ll never guess what she told me! i’m pregnant!” you told zuko the news and you swear you saw him panic for a split second before he fully processed the information and his face was replaced with pure bliss.

“really?” he didn’t believe it, you two were finlay going to have a child together. who would’ve thought back then when you two fought against each other that you would’ve been carrying his future child. you simply nodded before he leaned back into kiss you.

he woke up in the morning, thinking that his dream was a memory and that you were laying right next to him but as he turned around, he was met with an empty bed. he sighed slightly, you were still away in the south pole with your family as you had been for months. nonetheless, he was happy to have dreamed about your beautiful face.

and though you're away, nothing has changed, we always made it out, even when im old and blue, i’ll think about my time with you.

when he stepped out of his chamber, he was met with a servant giving him a scroll, no doubt a message from you. the firelord thanked them before returning to his room to read in peace.

whenever one of you were gone on a mission somewhere in one of the four nations, you both communicated through letters so that you could keep in touch. it would also serve as a way to your future selves to look back in the early moments in your relationship fondly. you’d always have memories that would never go away written in those scrolls.

atla taglist: @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis @firelady-jay

zuko taglist: @duh-dobrik

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑦 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑃𝑡. 4 (𝐵𝑎𝑑𝑏𝑜𝑦! 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

Pairing: Badboy! Park Seonghwa (Ateez)/ Reader (Female)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, College AU.

Synopsis: Final part of the bad boy! Seonghwa series. Y/N finally tells Seonghwa her answer to his confession.

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

"Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa pulled away and stomped his foot on the pavement, gritting his teeth.

"Fucking hell, can't even get a break." He complained, sighing in frustration.

Seonghwa helped Y/N get down from the railing. She fanned her face as she suddenly felt hot from the compromising position she and Seonghwa were in a few seconds ago. She watched as a shorter male with ash blonde hair ran over to them, somewhat out of breath.

"Hongjoong you better have a good excuse for interrupting me." Seonghwa glared daggers at the younger male, his arms crossing over his chest as his foot tapped impatiently on the pavement.

"Well would you count Mingi getting his head stuck in a lamp shade as good enough?" Said Hongjoong mimicked Seonghwa, crossing his arms over his chest while tilting his head to the side.

"What the?! How even?! Ugh! Where is he?" Seonghwa could already feel his head pulsating with a coming migraine.

"In Yunho's room, who's probably trying to calm him down at the moment." He gestured behind him at the house.

Seonghwa inhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out an exasperated breath.

"Fine. Let's see what I can do."

Without even thinking, his hand linked with Y/N's and he began pulling her back inside the house. Hongjoong was taken aback when he saw them holding hands. He looked back and forth between them.

"I thought he said they weren't a thing?" He thought to himself but ultimately decided to let it go, chuckling secretly to himself.

They went back inside the house through the back door so they wouldn't have to pass all the wild people dancing in the living room and hallway. In the kitchen, they were greeted by a very drunk and overly emotional Yeosang, who was currently crying on Jongho's shoulder, the latter helping him stay standing as he petted his hair.

"Yeosang?" Hongjoong looked at him.

"Ok, what happened to you now?" It seemed Seonghwa would have to fix yet another problem.

He began mumbling something incoherently due to his sniffling and talking while his face was pressed on Jongho's shoulder.

"I got him don't worry. Go help out the idiot upstairs." Jongho assured them as he tried to keep Yeosang from collapsing on the floor.

Seonghwa looked back at Y/N

"You don't mind waiting here a few minutes do you?"

She smiled and reassured him she'd be fine. He let go of her hand and that's when it dawned on them both that they had been holding hands the entire time. Seonghwa stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets and walked away with his head hung low. Hongjoong who was next to him leaned in to say something to him, which resulted in him getting elbowed by the taller male as they went upstairs to fix whatever commotion was happening.

"You know, for 2 individuals who keep denying they're in a relationship, you sure act like you're in one." Jongho told her, snapping her gaze away from the staircase.

"Huh?" She looked at him, not paying attention to what he said.

Jongho snickered. "Exactly that. Lovesick puppies that can't seem to function without each other."

Yeosang whined loudly when he heard him mention the word 'love.'

"What's wrong with him anyway?" Y/N was worried for him. She leaned in and wiped some of Yeosang's tears away.

"Long story short: flip a coin, San goes home with Wooyoung for the night." Jongho explained as he rolled his eyes at the stupidity of it.

"Oh no, I'm sorry Yeosang." She brushed some of his bangs away from his face.

"Don't be, this always happens. If it had landed tails, then it'd be San crying here."

Yeosang grunted at the sound of his name and harshly dug his nails into Jongho's arm.

"Whoah ok Hyung, calm down. I get you're upset now but I'm already doing you a favor by keeping your drunk emotional ass company. No need for the agression."

Yeosang lifted his head up and groaned.

"Do me another favor and take me to nearest bathroom."

Seeing Yeosang's pale face, Jongho cringed as he lifted him up as if he weighed nothing.

"Seriously, shouldn't I be the reckless drunk getting taken care of you older guys? Why is it the other way around?"

Jongho excused himself and carried Yeosang to the bathroom as swiftly as he could before the poor boy threw up on himself or worse.

Y/N leaned back on the kitchen island. Her foot began drawing circles on the floor as she waited for Seonghwa to come back. She took the time to think about what Jongho said:

Do we act like a couple?

"No! Absolutely not! Besides, I don't even like him that way...." She thought to herself then immediately began questioning the veracity of that statement.

"Do I?"

She couldn't deny that Seonghwa was extremely attractive, especially with his leather jacket and tight jeans that hugged his thighs in the most dangerous and tempting manner. But besides his obvious beauty, he was also a very kind and genuine person. From the beginning, he stated his intentions and he was very open about what he did and didn't do. He was an open book and didn't try to conceal anything. He was also a complete gentleman towards her and was literally waiting for her to say yes.....

So what's keeping me from accepting him?

She was startled when she felt someone slide next to her, making her forget about what she was thinking.

"Hello there." An extremely attractive male with long pink hair smiled at her.

"Hi." She replied awkwardly, scooting a bit away from him.

"I'm Hyunjin. May I know your name?" He asked, his head tilting down to check her out.

"Y/N." She responded.

"Pretty name on such a pretty face." He grinned, coming closer to her.

Y/N retreated away when she felt him come closer, closer than she felt comfortable with.

"Don't be scared beautiful. I only want to talk." Hyunjin chuckled.

Y/N hardly believed that.

"Oh really? Just talk?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Hyunjin hummed softly.

"Well unless you're up for something else. Then I'd be happy to oblige."

His hand moved to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"So what do you say? Wanna ditch this place and come home with me?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"No-no thank you." She brushed his hand away which resulted in him gripping her wrist and pulling her against him.

"I promise you won't regret it." He smirked at her.

In a flash, Y/N watched as Hyunjin was yanked off her by none other than Seonghwa.

"She told you no Hwang Hyunjin. Can't you take a hint?"

Hyunjin scoffed as he straightened his jean jacket.

"Stay out of this Park Seonghwa. This doesn't concern you."

Their voices were raised to the point that a lot of people there were now looking over or whispering, wondering what all the commotion was about. Seonghwa chuckled sarcastically.

"Oh but you see, it does concern me cause..."

Taking 2 steps, he swiftly took Y/N's arm, pulling her close to him and wrapping an arm protectively around her.

"She's my girl." He declared.

Audible gasps were heard when he said that, a few females letting out either romantic "awwws" while others were fuming at this new information.

"Fucking knew it!" Yeosang declared, pointing a finger upwards as Jongho tried to stabilize him once again and shushing him.

Hyunjin looked surprised but then he laughed mockingly at him.

"Your girl? Do you actually mean a girl, or is she just another slut of yours that you're going to fuck and call it a night?"

Seonghwa grabbed Hyunjin by the collar and slammed him against the wall harshly, rage coursing through his veins.

"Say that again about her! I dare you to!" Seonghwa warned.

Hongjoong immediately stepped in and grabbed Seonghwa's shoulder.

"Seonghwa....this isn't the place-"

But he couldn't get his statement out because Hyunjin shoved Seonghwa off him, getting ready to fight.

"I'm not scared of you Seonghwa. So try me." Hyunjin threatened.

Y/N looked over and saw many people taking out their cameras, ready to film what was going to happen. Then she took in Hongjoong's and Jongho's worried looks. Realizing she did not want to see him get hurt, she stepped in between them, making Seonghwa look at her in confusion.

"Y/N move. I don't want you to-"

He stopped talking when she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly so he wouldn't move.

"Please don't do this. Please just don't..." She begged him.

Seonghwa opened his mouth to speak but ultimately didn't. His hands that were balled up into fists loosened themselves and moved to caress her lower back. He took a deep breath and began to calm down.

"Ok."

That was all he said as he unwrapped her arms from him, smiling down at her to make her stop worrying. He looked to Hyunjin one last time before threatening him:

"Don't ever let me hear you disrespecting her again or I'll bust your face open."

Seonghwa linked his hand with Y/N's and began pulling her away from there. Exiting the house, he guided her over to where he parked his car. Y/N fake pouted.

"No motorcycle tonight?" She asked in a whiny tone.

Seonghwa snorted. "If I remember correctly, you called it a 'death trap'".

"It is! But you know......makes you look even more attractive." She teased him.

Seonghwa pushed her up against the side of the car, his hands trapping her in between his body making her get flustered and look at him with widened eyes.

"Don't tease me or I won't be able to hold myself back. " He cautioned her.

He then moved her slightly away so he could open the door for her. He waited for her to get in before pacing over to the driver's side. Turning on the car, he swiftly pulled out of the driveway and started heading back to her house. They sat there quietly, unable to say anything. Seonghwa noticed how Y/N kept glancing over at him every once in a while.

"What's on your mind doll face?" He finally spoke up.

"Oh um....well that thing you said back there....at the party...." She mumbled out.

"I said a lot of things Y/N, you're going to have to be more specific." He looked at her momentarily before paying attention to the road again.

"The part where you said I was....your girl?" She said the last part very quietly.

When Seonghwa didn't respond for a while, she slumped her shoulders back, internally cursing herself for even bringing it up. She decided to just look out the window for the remainder of the ride. She didn't get it. Why was Seonghwa not answering her question? Did he not mean it? Was he going back on his word? Her mind began to swirl with all kinds of questions that she didn't notice that Seonghwa had already pulled in front of her apartment complex until he was clearing his throat.

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry. Thanks for the ride. I'll see you around."

She grabbed her purse and wanted to speed out of the car as fast as she could, but Seonghwa clutched her hand before she could move.

"Y/N wait!" He blurted out.

Taking off his seat belt, he turned to look at her.

"I didn't respond before because I wanted to talk about it calmly and with no distractions."

Y/N calmed down when he explained why he didn't immediately respond to her minutes before. Seonghwa looked down and took a deep breath before confessing:

"Y/N you know how I feel about you. From the beginning, I told you I liked you. I was attracted to you at first, but spending these two days with you, getting to know you even more..... I'm falling for you harder than I ever imagined I would..."

Gathering his courage, he looked up at her surprised face.

"I won't get my hopes up.... but it would honestly make me happy if you accepted to be my girl....make it official between us..... and actually start dating..."

He cringed at himself and the way he asked her. He for sure thought she would reject him.

"Seonghwa?"

Y/N's voice made him snap his head up.

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind getting out of the car?" She asked.

Her request puzzled him, but he did so nonetheless. He ran over to her side before she could even open the door, as he did it for her.

"Ok, why did you-"

He was cut off when Y/N grabbed the sides of his leather jacket and pulled his face down to hers, making him get his words caught in his throat. Y/N smirked at him.

"I thought you said you wouldn't hold yourself back if I teased you again?" She chuckled at his shocked expression.

Getting the hint, Seonghwa pulled her hands off him and held them in place.

"I'm not."

He closed the gap between them and cupped her cheeks as he kissed her tenderly, all of the feelings he had kept inside finally coming out in his kiss. Y/N pulled her hands out of his grasp and they went to the back of his head, running themselves through his hair as she kissed him back just as intensely.

Seonghwa pulled back briefly to ask.

"So....is that a yes or...?"

Y/N giggled and nodded yes before pulling him back in, this time kissing him even more passionately. Her hands moved to his arms that were clad with his leather jacket, yet she could still feel the muscles underneath the material. The thought of them exposed made her unconsciously bite down on Seonghwa's lower lip.

Moaning softly, Seonghwa pulled her off him once again.

"Ok ok, easy there kitten. If there's going to be tongue and second base involved, let me take you out on a date first." He joked, poking her nose.

"I thought you already did." She reminded him.

Seonghwa smiled. "Well then...how about a second date?"

Y/N hummed and thought about it. "Deal."

Seonghwa beamed with joy.

"Great then. I can't wait."

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

Y/N could feel the stares from some of her classmates, but she didn't care. Let them think and talk about whatever they wanted. She couldn't care to pay attention to them, let alone pay attention to what any of her professors were saying. All day long, she kept thinking about Seonghwa and about their date later tonight. It was the only thing keeping her from going insane during these boring Monday sessions.

As soon as the bell rang, she stuffed her books in her bag and strutted out the door. Her plan was to get home as soon as possible so she could shower and change as quickly as possible for their date. But those plans were crushed when she was met by a familiar head of black hair sitting by the benches outside. Catching sight of her, he got himself up and walked over to her, looking her up and down.

"Hello doll." Seonghwa winked at her.

"I thought you said you didn't have any classes today?" Y/N remarked.

"I didn't." Seonghwa affirmed.

"Then why are you here?" She questioned him.

Leaning in, he responded.

"Got impatient and couldn't wait to see my little kitten."

Not caring that others would see, he cupped her chin and softly kissed her. When he pulled back, he muttered a soft 'cute' at her pink cheeks. Taking off his leather jacket, he wrapped it around her.

"It's kinda chilly. Put it on."

Seonghwa held her books as she put on his clothing, chuckling when he saw it was definitely big on her. Linking their hands, he took her out into the parking lot.

"Oh my God! You seriously brought that?!" Y/N complained when she caught sight of his motorcycle.

"Get used to her babygirl, you're going to see a lot of her too." Seonghwa handed her a helmet.

Y/N huffed as she put on her helmet. "I swear to god, you like this thing more than me."

"Nope trust me, I like you a lot more. A lot." He insisted as followed suit and put on his helmet.

Seonghwa waited until Y/N firmly adjusted herself behind him, his heart jumping when she wrapped her arms around him once again.

"Tell me when it's over." Y/N shut her eyes, gripping him even tighter.

"Calm down doll, I won't let anything happen to you. After all.....

You're my girl."

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

[hongism]

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

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

​​​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? We have lessons every weekday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Mimi.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he has a really nice smile.

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

“Her mother used to call her that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe some other time.”

“Like you mentioned.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, you two are so gross.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you have a date.”

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

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

“Hey! It does look good!”

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

“Well, maybe I am!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

San draws his lips into a tight purse.

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

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

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

“I’m not scared.”

Lie. They all know it too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you trying to say?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s an oddly specific threat…”

“I said no complaining!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’d love to!”

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

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

“That’s fine. Take your time!”

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

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

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

“You good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her mother used to call her that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“Are you truly real?”

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

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

“You forgot the stutter.”

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

“My apologies, Y-Yunho.”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

“Not into marriage?”

“Not into women.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you need me to watch Akemi?”

Hongjoong hadn’t even hesitated to ask the question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ran into Akemi’s mother.”

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need a drink. Or thirty.”

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

“Can I convince you to stay for one?”

How can Hongjoong say no to that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would be a fantastic father.”

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

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

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

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

“You thought I did?”

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

Someone like you.

Taken.

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

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

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

“Any terrible exes I need to know about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Low alcohol tolerance?”

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

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

“Daddy?”

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

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

“I heard you laughing with Mr. Hong!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tipsy.”

“You admitting it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah?”

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

“Maybe you should stay the night.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

Their noses bump against each other.

Yunho doesn’t move away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nut,” he whispers, stifling a giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need me to repeat myself?”

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

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

“Only if you want me to.”

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

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

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

“I like that.”

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

“An adorable one nonetheless.”

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

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

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

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

“I want you to kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you need help changing? I can—”

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

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

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

“Do you need help?”

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

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

“I’m still here, Hongjoong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Maybe you aren’t ready for this.”

“For what, Wooyoung?”

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

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

“Do you want this, Hongjoong?”

“He doesn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna hear it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Variations On The Word Love by Margaret Atwood.”

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

“We’ll fall down the stairs, Yunho.”

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

Why is Yunho different?

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

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

You can hold on or let go.

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alone?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hongjoong…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friend.

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

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

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

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

“Then what do you want me to be?”

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

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

“I want you to be nothing to me.”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a surprise, shush.”

“Wooyoung–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow, you bitch!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You… I-I – why did you come?”

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

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

Yunho presses his lips into a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you crying on my birthday?”

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

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

“I don’t want you to be nothing.”

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

“What else did you hope I would say?”

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

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

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her mother used to call her that.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, babe. Have fun with that!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t need to thank me.”

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

“I want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not.”

“So kiss m—”

“Got drinks!”

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

Fuck Jung Wooyoung.

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll just be you and Akemi then?”

“Yup, first time too.”

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

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

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

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, y-yeah, uh—”

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

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

So why? Why does this feel so different?

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

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

“H-Huh?” Hongjoong stammers.

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

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

No, Hongjoong, bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I put up mistletoe then?”

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

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

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

“Do you need an excuse?”

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

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

“Are you asking me to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you, Hongjoong.”

“Y-You what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A breath.

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

A finger grip on a cliffside.

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

You can hold on or let go.

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

…

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

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

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

Friend? Hongjoong cocks his head to the side.

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

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

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

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

“Need an excuse to kiss me then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re disgusting!”

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

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

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

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

“Talk in private?” Hongjoong asks.

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

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

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

That’s… not the question Hongjoong was expecting.

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

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

“Say the word and I’m yours, Yunho.”

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

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

“And if I happen to want you forever?”

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

“Do you – do you want me as well?”

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

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

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

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

..

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

[mymoonagedaydream]

you find peter kissing mj a couple weeks after you two started dating.. :(( storming off upset you drive and go into bucky’s room just to cry until he comes back from a mission n he comforts the reader

Unfaithful

Summary: Even after you chose someone else, Bucky was still there to help you pick up the pieces

Pairing: Peter Parker x y/n x Bucky

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Language 

Author’s Note: I had no idea how to describe the pairing here lol I did my best

---

It’d only been a few months, but working as Tony Stark’s lab assistant was already turning out to be everything you’d hoped for. You had your dream job, you got to live in Stark’s insanely beautiful compound and you’d been welcomed so warmly by everyone else who lived there- you genuinely couldn’t believe your luck.

It wasn’t long before you started getting close with Peter. He was clumsy and charming, his face lit up whenever you walked into a room and he made sure you were always looked after. Just being around him made you feel like a giddy little kid with a crush. 

You were a little surprised that you also found yourself gravitating towards Bucky. At first he seemed to keep his distance, but as he slowly got more comfortable with your presence at the compound, he really started opening up. You found yourself unintentionally drifting towards him but, because of the age gap, you assumed he was only interested in you as a friend.

So you focused all your romantic energy on Peter. 

It took months of mutual flirting and making excuses to be around each other before he eventually plucked up the courage to ask you out on a date, a proposition which you jumped at with slightly more intensity than you’d intended.

After a couple weeks of spending almost all your free time together, Peter went to stay the weekend with his Aunt May in Queens. Before he left, he seemed a little downcast about missing out on two full days of quality time together, so you decided it’d be nice to surprise him with a visit. 

Besides, you were more than a little curious about his life outside the compound, especially his Aunt. Tony spoke about her a whole lot. 

On Sunday morning, you hopped in your car and drove to Queens. It’d only been a couple days but you were really excited to see Peter, excited to see his face light up with surprise. 

You climbed the stairs of his apartment complex and knocked on the door, slightly taken aback when an incredibly attractive woman opened the door and gave you a wide smile. Tony, you dirty dog. 

‘Hi, I’m y/n, Peter’s friend.’ There was no recognition in her face, but you and Peter had only been dating for a few weeks, so you could forgive him for not telling her about you. ‘Is he here?’

‘Oh yeah, he actually has a friend over but I’m sure he won’t mind if you go right in.’ She gestured over to a closed door. 

Walking into the apartment, the first thing you noticed was the cosiness. The compound was huge and beautiful, but Tony’s futuristic taste in decor didn’t exactly make the place homely. It felt more like a hedge fund office than a home. 

You pushed open Peter’s door and immediately felt your heart drop into your stomach. 

He was sitting on the bed, next to a girl you didn’t recognise, holding her by the waist and pressing his lips against hers. As soon as he heard the door creak his head shot towards you and his face dropped. 

‘Y/n! It’s not- I don’t-’

You were frozen in shock, really struggling to process what was happening.

After a few seconds you spun round and made a beeline for the front door, running out and down the stairs as fast as you were able. Reaching your car, you fumbled for your keys in your pocket and hesitantly glanced over your shoulder, quickly realising that Peter hadn’t even tried to follow you out.

You jumped into the driver's seat and sped away from the apartment complex, racking your brain trying to figure out what to do. Peter was the person you usually went to when shit like this happened, he always knew what to say to calm you down. 

You drove back to the compound, tears clouding your vision, unable to prevent increasingly horrible scenarios playing out in your head. Had he been seeing her the whole time? Or even since before you were together? Were you the other woman?

Pulling up and flicking off the engine, you yanked the door open and ran up to your room, just hoping to god that you wouldn’t bump into anyone on the way. The last thing you wanted to do was have to explain to someone why you were so upset, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to get the words out.

As soon as you turned into the corridor, you couldn’t help but notice that Bucky’s door was slightly ajar. He never usually left it open, you’d never even seen inside his room before. 

You shuffled towards it and poked your head through the gap, a little disappointed when you saw that he wasn’t in there. You didn’t know why, but you found yourself walking over to Bucky’s bed, moving almost involuntarily. Climbing up onto it and crawling to the middle, your face collapsed into his pillows and you started bawling. 

For some reason, all you wanted to do was stay there. Maybe it was because you knew that your bed would smell like Peter, or maybe it was because staying meant that Bucky would eventually find you.

You lay there for what felt like hours, before slowly drifting off to sleep. 

---

You felt your shoulder being tapped gently. Bucky’s deep voice washed over you, pulling you out of your fractured sleep. 

‘Y/n, are you alright? You don’t look so good.’

You peeled open your puffy eyes. He was perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at you with eyes full of concern. Sitting up slowly, you ran through everything again in your mind, trying to figure out if you could word everything in a way that wouldn’t set you off again. 

But it was no use, you started welling up before a single word had escaped your mouth, soon enough feeling the trails of hot tears running down your cheeks. 

Bucky shifted himself slightly and threw a strong arm around your shoulders. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I went to see Peter, I wanted to surprise him.’ You choked back your sobs. ‘I caught him with some other girl.’ 

His face instinctively dropped into one of complete shock before he managed to compose himself, taking a deep breath and stroking your upper arm tenderly.

‘Jesus. I didn’t think he was the type.’

You shrugged weakly. ‘Me neither.’

He brought his other arm up and pulled you into a tight hug, holding you firm against his chest and planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You buried your face in his neck, his closeness prompting soothing waves to wash over your body. 

‘Forget him then.’ Bucky mumbled gruffly. ‘Not worth your time.’

You lifted your head up to face him and gave him a faint smile, noticing for the first time that his face was mottled with some small cuts and bruises.

‘You don’t look so good either Buck, are you alright?’

He gave you a reassuring nod. ‘They’re just flesh wounds, don’t worry about me.’

You leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, before bringing your legs up to drape them over his lap and slotting your head back in the crook of his neck. He kept his arms tight around you, gently stroking his chin over the top of your head. 

The two of you stayed there for hours, just relaxing in each other's company, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you got it wrong the first time. Being with Bucky just felt so right.

---

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Day 29: Pillow

Read it on AO3! Or read all of my Harringrove April prompt fics!

It was a stupid thing to get mad about. Steve was aware of that. It was just that Billy had been through a lot, so Steve had spent the last three months trying really hard to be patient and supportive and an extremely chill roommate, and it was starting to seem like Billy was trying to do the exact opposite. He drank all the milk and left the empty container in the fridge. He left long, curly hairs plastered to the walls of their tiny shower. He dropped his stuff wherever he felt like it, and snickered when Steve tripped over it. And now, for the past week, Steve had gone to his room to go to bed only to discover that Billy had stolen his goddamn pillow. Again. 

Steve sighed and considered just…trying to sleep without a pillow, but he was kind of done with all of this shit. He stalked down the hall to Billy’s room and knocked once before throwing the door open. Billy looked up from where he was leaning back on a pile of what had to have been six or seven pillows. Steve felt rage rising in him again. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” Billy asked, setting his book down next to him. 

“Can I please have my pillow back?” Steve asked, working hard to keep his voice even. 

“No,” Billy said casually, and reached for his book. Steve narrowed his eyes. 

“Give me back my fucking pillow,” Steve said a little louder. Billy’s eyes went a little wide. 

“But Steve, I need it,” he said sincerely, and if Steve hadn’t seen the beginnings of a smirk on Billy’s face, he might have caved. But that fucking ghost of a smirk sent him right over the edge. Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore.   

“You are such a fucking asshole!” he yelled. “You drink all the milk! And you leave shit everywhere! And you have never once cleaned a single goddamn thing in this apartment! And you think it’s cool to just steal? My fucking pillow? When you already have, like, ten of them? What is wrong with you?” Steve was gesticulating wildly in an attempt to convey the depth of his fury, and it took him a minute to realize that Billy didn’t look chastened, or taken aback, or upset. No, he looked thrilled. His eyes were wide and sparkling, and he was staring like this was the best entertainment he could have hoped for. Steve narrowed his eyes. “You do all that shit on purpose,” he said slowly. Billy grinned at him. 

“Come on, Harrington. You have to admit—“ Steve shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been harboring the hope, recently, that he and Billy might eventually move past just being roommates to being friends, or even—

Well. It was clear now that Steve had been an idiot. Again. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head and taking a couple steps back. “This is fucked up. Why’d you even—“ he cut himself off. It didn’t matter why Billy had agreed to live with him in the first place. It was probably just for the ongoing enjoyment of fucking with him, and Steve had had about enough of that. “Forget it,” he said. “Doesn’t matter. Keep the fucking pillow. Consider it my farewell gift to you.” That knocked the smile right off of Billy’s face. 

“Harrington, wait. Steve,” Billy said, as Steve turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him instead of slamming it the way he desperately wanted to. He stalked back to his room, slammed his own door behind him, and face-planted into the mattress. He briefly considered going out for a drive just to get away from his fucking asshole roommate, but it was after midnight and he had work in the morning. Not that he was going to get much sleep, with how pissed off he still was. 

His friends had tried to warn him. Nancy had stared at him like he was the dumbest fucking person alive when he had announced that he was getting an apartment with Billy Hargrove. Even Robin, who was actually friends with Billy—in the sense that they viciously mocked each other and both seemed to find it equally amusing—had looked at Steve a little skeptically. 

“Not you too,” Steve had sighed. “I thought you liked Billy.” Robin had bitten her lip, and then squared her shoulders. 

“I do like Billy. Just…” She trailed off and then sighed and shook her head a little. “The two of you? In the same apartment? With his whole thing, and your whole thing, and all of those repressed feelings? It’s either going to be an enormous success or a complete disaster.”

“What repressed feelings?” Steve had asked, because he had gotten stuck on that part of the sentence and hadn’t really heard the rest. 

“Oh dingus,” she had said, reaching out to pat his cheek affectionately. “I would tell you, but that would be less fun for me, so I’m not going to.” 

Steve thought maybe he understood Robin’s comments a little better now, but it wasn’t his fault that he seemed to be exclusively into people who were very pretty, and who could also end him if they felt like it. Sure, that would have been useful to know about himself before moving in with Billy, but it didn’t really matter now. He groaned a little into his mattress. He fucking hated looking for apartments, and now he was going to have to do it again. 

Steve did not respond when he heard a quiet knock at his door. He was under no obligation to talk to someone who had apparently spent the last three months fucking with him for some obscure reason. But Billy didn’t leave. 

“Steve?” he said through the door, which was unusual by itself. Billy never called him Steve. It was always Harrington, or pretty boy, or princess, if Billy wanted to be especially annoying. He used that one a lot. Steve continued to ignore him. “I brought you your pillow,” Billy said. “And I wanted to apologize.” And that was unusual enough to have Steve sitting up on his bed. Billy had apologized to him exactly once, for fucking up his face, and he had been visibly uncomfortable the entire time. He had stared at the ground for most of it, only looking up occasionally to glare at Steve, like Steve was the one who had wronged him. Steve was pretty sure that it hadn’t been Billy’s idea. So for him to voluntarily apologize was genuinely surprising. 

“Okay?” Steve said, and the door swung open. Billy stood there, holding Steve’s pillow in one hand. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the other hand once he let go of the doorknob. He kind of let it hover for a minute, and then jammed it in the pocket of his sweatpants. He stepped into the room tentatively, which was another thing Steve had never seen before. Even after Starcourt, Billy had never been particularly tentative about anything. 

Billy crossed the room and held out Steve’s pillow. Steve took it and set it down in his lap. Billy just stood there for a second and then pulled Steve’s desk chair out, turned it around, and straddled it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking right at Steve. Steve didn’t think he had ever seen this side of Billy before. “It’s just…” Billy looked down and smiled a little sadly to himself. Then he looked back up at Steve. “You know that’s the first time you’ve actually called me out on anything since we moved in here? It might be the first time anyone has called me out on anything since, well. You know.” Since Starcourt, he obviously did not want to say. 

“Yeah?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah,” Billy said. “Everyone treats me like I’m…fragile,” he finally decided on. “Or broken,” he added with a self-deprecating smile. “I get away with all kinds of shit now because people feel sorry for me.” The smile dropped away and Billy looked down. “I fucking hate it. I don’t want people—“ he stopped and then corrected himself. “I don’t want you to pity me.”

“I don’t—“ Steve started to say, but Billy cut him off with a raised eyebrow. 

“Come on, Harrington. I’ve been a fucking nightmare of a roommate, and it took you three months to say anything about it. Of course you do.” Steve stared down at the pillow in his lap and thought about it. Billy wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t entirely right. 

“That’s not—“ Steve started. Billy opened his mouth to protest, but Steve shook his head. “Just let me say it, ok?” Billy rolled his eyes, but he shut up so Steve could continue. “Fine, yes, I have let you get away with a ton of shit because you fucking died,” Billy made a face at that, “but that’s not the only reason. I also…” Steve hesitated, but Billy had come in here and admitted something hard, so Steve could do the same. “I also wanted it to work out,” he said. “I liked the idea of living with you.” It wasn’t a direct admission, but it was close enough for now. He glanced up at Billy, who looked genuinely surprised. There was a long pause. 

“Are you actually going to move out?” Billy finally asked, and he sounded legitimately worried. 

“No,” Steve said eventually, because he desperately did not want to look for a new apartment. He looked at Billy and narrowed his eyes. “But three months from now, you’re going to wish you could go back to a time when I felt sorry for you.” Billy looked at him, the hint of a smile growing at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?” he asked. 

“God, yes,” Steve said fervently. “You’re doing absolutely everything around here for at least the next three months.” Billy was fully grinning now. Steve kept going. “You thought you hated it when I wasn’t calling you on your shit? Wait until I start calling you on allllll your shit.”

“Okay,” Billy said, and he seemed weirdly happy about it. 

“In fact,” Steve said, “right now you’re going to bring me a couple more of your one million fucking pillows, and then you’re going to fuck off because I have work in, like, five hours.” Billy stared at him for a long beat, grin still in place, and then he stood up. Steve put his pillow behind his head and flopped back on the mattress. “Really looking forward to seeing what you come up with for dinner, too.” Billy looked at him a little pityingly. 

“Oh, Harrington,” he said, “you know it’s going to be cereal.” Steve groaned. 

“Come on, man. At least order pizza or pick up burgers or something if you can’t cook.” Billy winced just the tiniest bit, and Steve sat up. 

“Oh my God, you can cook.” Steve grabbed his pillow and chucked it, but Billy managed to duck behind Steve’s door before it hit him. “You’re the fucking worst!” Steve yelled after him, but he was smiling as he said it. He flopped back down on the bed with a huff, and he wasn’t even all that surprised when Billy appeared at his door to toss his pillow and two others at him. 

Maybe they could make their way toward being friends after all. And after that, well. Who knew what could happen?  

[dovveling]

Lucio/Iolas - Wedding Proposal

(I really liked my long ass answer to the love ask about their proposal so i wanted to make it it’s own post that way y’all can ready it easier--)

The sun hung low in the sky as Lucio makes his way to the palace gardens. He has asked Iolas to meet him out by their favorite spot in the garden maze. the blonde smiles remembering how the two of them had found the hidden spot while goofing around and shoving each other into the hedges. It wasn't until one hard push sent Lucio through the hedge that he had found it. He fully expected to land on his ass but instead he found himself on the other side of a portal with Iolas calling for him from the other side.

Quickly Lucio ushered the other man through the portal and the two looked over a hidden meadow that seemed to be somewhere close to the center of the maze. Lucio could picture it perfectly; the stark white gazebo in the center, the perfect sun rays that sprinkled the fluffy grass and the willow tree with its small leaves that dripped and trickled. He fondly reminisced when the wind would blow and the tendrils of the willow would tickle up the wooden beams of the gazebo and scare Iolas into laughter every time the leaves would brush against his lover.

As Lucio draws closer to the portal he stops right before he enters and stares at the ring he had spent hours picking out. He had never fussed so much over a gift for someone. It was a first for him to worry about gift-giving, because anything he picked out was glamorous and simply perfect. This however wasn't just a gift.

It was a question.

Which meant it had to be perfect. Every time he would think he was close to choosing a ring he would look and see a flaw. A flaw that Iolas had the potential see. Which if he did meant the possibility of Lucio never getting to hear the answer he so desperately wants to the question He’s so nervous to ask.

So many times Lucio doubled back on himself about the proposal. Is this just too much? His mind would race. Could he see himself getting married again when his last marriage was such a failure? Then he would hear it. Iolas' laugh. Followed by the heart warming memories of the sunlight hitting the coffee skin of his lover. Afterwards every reservation burned away and was replaced with a deep desire to make this person his and only his.

Clinging to his new found confidence Lucio steels himself as he pockets the ring, almost dropping the bottle of champagne he forgets he was holding. As he pushes through the portal the blonde's heart skips a little at the sight of his lover resting on the side of the white gazebo. He’s wearing a white robe that Lucio had gotten commissioned to match his iconic white suit. The sight of it sets his heart running, he now knows the other dressed up just for him. As Lucio walks closer he can tell his lover seems to be lost in thought. He watched the other man’s crimson eyes gaze over the tree line, transfixed on something invisible as their thoughts dictate their face. It isn’t until Lucio steps closer and knocks on the wood with a playful tune that his lover acknowledges that the count has walked into the meadow. Lucio’s wolfish smile triggers a similar grin on his lover’s face.

"Hi, my Darling--" Iolas starts before pulling Lucio over by his collar to meet their lips together. With a giggle Iolas watches Lucio hop over the median of the gazebo instead of using the very close opening that's just a little be over to the side of them. Lucio tries to steady his face, but he can’t help that he’s excited. He doesn't want to come off too eager or nervous, but Lucio can tell his poker face failed as Iolas gives him a curious look. "What are you planning? I know that look."

Lucio however holds his hands up in defense after he places the bottle of champagne down on the railing in front of them. "Why do I always have to be up to something huh? Can't a man just meet his lover in a secret hole in the woods for some late-night drinking and maybe a little late-night macking?" the blonde throws the magician a wink, which is met with a playful smack that Lucio is all too found of.

"Did you bring glasses, Oh Count of Macking?" Iolas teases with a click of his tongue and to that Lucio's face freezes for a second. The easily distracted count did not think about the glass part of drinking, but his shock lasts for a split second before he nudges his lover with an elbow and a cheeky grin. "Can't you just magic something up for us--" Before Lucio can even finish Iolas throws his head back, his whole body shakes with a genuine laugh. One that Lucio only sees when Iolas reacts to his particular stupidity. "Absolutely not. I cannot manifest glassware, but fret not Lulu I prepared for this." The silver-haired man stands on the railing of the gazebo and reaches up behind one of the posts and brings down two champagne glasses. Lucio amused at this helps the shorter man down before taking both glasses and leaning down to give his lover a short kiss on the head.

Snickering to himself Lucio places the glasses down and pops open the champagne. "See? Who needs magic when you have a lover who has the spirit of a squirrel. Why are those even up there?" Iolas can't seem to hold back his laugher and starts into a long dialogue about how the last party they hosted he was tasked with disposing of all the drinks Lucio downed after getting into a drinking match with Julian. At some point he got too fed up hauling all the empty glass wear to and fro so he eventually gave up and used the portal which was much closer than the garbage. Soon as he finishes that story Lucio makes note that not only does he not remember this drinking contest at all, but he also notices that the whole upper layer of the Gazebo is littered with small drinking glasses of all shapes and sizes.

After the two of them laugh at the absurdity of the situation the couple dive into a comfortable speed of talking. Slowly they unravel the days events to each other, to which Lucio adds more flavor by introducing the drinks. The sun finally settles and the garden lights flicker on and thanks to all the glass wear in the gazebo small reflected lights scattered within their own space. Slowly the stories of their day dwindle and eventually, they huddle close to each other so they can look under the top of their gazebo and point out stars. Lucio watches the small warm lights bounce off his lover's face and his heart races. He can't chicken out now.

"Iolas." Lucio stops the silver-haired man mid-sentence as the other was going on about his zodiac sign and how it will be visible in the sky soon until he hears his name.

Iolas pauses fully, not use to hearing his full name exit his lover's lips unless it was during a more intimate and scandalous situation. So he hides his hesitation with a smile and he answers the blonde with the same tone he just used but exaggerated with a deeper tone to lighten the mood. "Lucio." The count starts to fidget but just laughs when Iolas mocks his serious tone. "No really, uh... Listen for a second." Iolas' face now turns from curious to worried. " Uh oh. that's a real serious tone. What did you do?" Lucio brushes him off, biting his lip and rubs the back of his neck. He feels so lame doing this, but that's the point.

Lucio stands up straight taking Iolas' hands, looking directly into those red eyes. For a second Lucio’s mind feels erased. It was as if looking into his lovers eyes reset every word he had planned out, but the ring sits heavy in his pocket. So he tried and opens his mouth only to close it so he can bring Iolas' cold fingers to his lips, unable to find his words just yet.

Iolas' however is completely taken aback. His lover has been romantic before but he was much more used to their back a forth of one-upping each other and superficial compliments they would glob onto each other. Their usual dynamic coupled with nightly flings where he ended up in the blonde's bed, made the sudden tenderness unsettling.

The magician could feel that dark feeling creep to his shoulders. The one that would say he shouldn't get his hopes up, that he's happy filling the count's time till he finds a real suitor. Even if Lucio was a temporary General at the palace he was still a completely different status then Iolas and Royals don't have court magician as suitors. So his hopes remained low but he was happy to bide his time with Lucio. However little it would be. Iolas had to admit even with the teasing and snarky remarks that sometimes get out of hand he loved and even craved the other man's company. Sadly, love doesn't change status. Love doesn't guarantee a happy ending. His a master when it comes to disappointment and had learned his lesson the hard way.

So It was the last thing Iolas' expected when the taller man pulls out the biggest ring the magician has ever seen and gets down on one knee. Iolas' first thought is to pinch himself so he can wake up. Then when air fills his lungs he realizes he’s awake and this is happening. More than happening, he's been silent for far too long. All he can hear is the stinging sound of his building anxiety attack banging around in his head. The buzz is deafening and He can see that Lucio is speaking but he can't hear him.

You will just disappoint him. Iolas' thoughts curse. Better yet he'll disappoint you. A shaky breath leaves him and all he can do is blink and look at Lucio with watery eyes. "I-- I'm sorry please can you say that again." Iolas stops and closes his eyes just so he doesn't have to look at the ring that's almost blinding with its meaning.

Lucio's normal wolfish grin falters but only returns once he hears Iolas speak. "I said. We should get hitched, ya know?" Lucio sputters, shit. "Look. Like I was saying we're surrounded by losers, Pet. Who else am I gonna get to match me other than you huh? come on, look at me—“ he gestures to his hair and outfit before continuing “Then look at you! we're perfect for each other.. ya know?" Lucio now looks nervous as he speaks. Unable to keep eye contact. “..and.. I love your laugh."

This seems to pull Iolas' from his anxiety a little even enough to get him to let out a weak laugh. "What? what does that have to do with anything?" Lucio pouts and glares at his lover just a tiny bit. "I love your laugh! and I don't want anyone else to have it. I deserve it, I get you to do it most and I think you owe me. So like.." Lucio ushers Iolas' to the ring, his legs are starting to buckle. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone else but my knees aren't what they use to be so can we--" Iolas stops him with a curt turn, his shoulders shaking.

The blonde stands at his lovers reaction his whole body rigid. This was it. The rejection he warned himself about. He's ruined everything, his heart screams to take it all back. Iolas is probably laughing at the proposal and Lucio's tacky way of offering himself. It isn't until the sound of a stuffy nose echo through the silent night that Lucio realizes his lover is crying and instantly he steps forward a different kind of fear gripping his heart. " W-wait-- wait, why are you crying? You never cry--" He falters and fidgets his hands around his lover unsure if he wants to be held or not.

Iolas turns finally, his red puffy eyes are turned down in a grimace as they glisten in the dim light. "Yeah, you idiot I never cry and look at what you made me do." His tone is harsh but it's followed by a sad shake that ruins any intention of anger. "Lucio I... I don't know how to do this." Lucio's heart slows but he's thrown for a loop and Iolas can sense his confusion and clears his throat as he wipes his leaking eyes. "No one has ever, wanted me like this before. I don't know if I can-- How do you know you want this? What if I disappoint you? What if you get tired of me and regret ever meeting me? At least if we keep things like before you can just get rid of me if I'm too much and I won't have to--" Lucio stops Iolas this time as he brings his lover close by pulling on his crossed arms.

"You won't have to worry about falling in love?" The blonde answers with his own sense of sadness, his eyes looking down at their feet before meeting with Iolas' who only nods in response. Lucio is a bit thankful that his lover didn't outright say no and is at least contemplating the idea of things. "I had the same thoughts and honestly I don't know how I'm sure. I just... am." Lucio's normal bravado comes back now that he feels more secure in the conversation. "I know that I love seeing you every day. I know that I love sleeping with you every night. I know that I don't want anyone else to hold you the way I hold you and I know that you feel the same way about me." At that the blonde swallows hoping he isn't wrong. "But mostly I know I don't ever want you to leave. If you were to go, do you know how fucking boring this place would be? I would set the parlor on fire within minutes of you being gone." The cheeky grin is back and Iolas snorts at the idea and manages a smile as he is now fully embraced by his lover.

Lucio rests his head on top the shorter man’s and hums, kissing the top of it. Slowly he pulls Iolas back so he can look down at him. "But it's not just about what I want... you kinda need to want those things too." Now it's Iolas turn to nervously look away and slowly as the shorter man's courage builds he tightens his grip on Lucio's jacket and more tears roll down his face as the realization comes crashing onto him that he'd do anything to be with the man in front of him. Before He can answer he shoves his face into Lucio's jacket rubbing his head back and forth on the soft fabric. "You moron-- Of course I want all that."

The blonde can't resist the urge to tease the other man however and laughs to himself. "I'm sorry, could you say that again I couldn't hear you from inside my jacket." Iolas hits the taller man's chest with a laugh before he goes to wipe his damp eyes yet again. "You know for a fact that I said YES-- urgh, gods look at what you did to my make up how the hell am I going to fix this now--" Iolas' whining is stopped short by his lover picking him up in a searing kiss that continues as the blonde twirls them both. With a firm grip on Iolas' waist Lucio looks up at the magician with a smile that could blind the gods. "I wanna hear you say it." Iolas rolls his eyes at that. With most of his face red as a beet, a large pout crosses the silver-haired man's lips. He kicks his legs from his newfound lifted position.

"I have zero idea what you're talking about--" Iolas protests but Lucio shakes his head. "Say it or you are never leaving this gazebo." Iolas is about to rebuttal but the look in Lucio's eyes is that yes he is serious. Iolas' expression softens, even if it's despite himself. "Of course I'll marry you, LuLu." Lucio whispers a soft ‘yes!’ Before he bounces in his spot and spins the both of them once again but this time continues to spin around the whole gazebo. The blonde’s laughing slowly raises to excited cackling as they spin. Iolas can only laugh back and struggle against the crazy man holding him. "Stop--! Lulu Stop! we're gonna--" but it's too late. Lucio's legs trip over themselves and with zero grace they both tumble onto the hardwood floor.

Iolas rolls onto his back and groans, dizzy and sore his eyes dart over to the man beside him who is just as dazed. Slowly Iolas entwines their hands with a smile and Lucio is about to kiss his lover's fingers before he remembers the ring. The blonde springs forward, getting up like the fall meant absolutely nothing. Iolas however takes his time sitting up as his lover fumbles to find the ring he dropped.

Soon as it's found Lucio slides over, the scraping sound of the taller man's pants on the hardwood makes the magician giggle. Iolas has to give the other man sheer points for his enthusiasm. Pompously Iolas sticks his left hand out, to which Lucio plays along and kisses the other man's ring finger dramatically before slipping the large ring onto Iolas' hand.

Carefully Iolas' holds his hand out to the light and observes the sheer size of the ring and can't help but grin. Lucio practically radiates waves of anticipation. His cheeks flushed from their recent spinning but his eyes sparkle and scream that they crave his lovers attention.

"Was this the biggest ring they had?" Iolas wiggles his fingers, acting as if he's unimpressed. Lucio simply feeds back into him. "How dare you." He sneers, pulling Iolas into his lap as he sits, unable to be on his knees any longer. "I had this one custom ordered. Not only is it the biggest ring in stores, but it's also the biggest wedding ring, period." He speaks into the shorter man's neck before he kisses it, The count's tone never faltering. The very idea of that sends Iolas into a giggle fit. He knows for a fact that this ring physically cannot be the biggest ring ever but another part of him can see Lucio putting up a fight with store owners about the pitiful size of their rings to the point where he just orders them to make him a whole new size.

"Of course, I knew my Lulu would only get me the best. He’s not capable of anything less." Lucio preens in the praise and Iolas strokes the back of his fingers against his lover's face. For a moment they stay like that, both of them processing what exactly just happened and what this means for their future. Iolas is the first to break the silence with a soft hum as he presses against Lucio's chest. "Thank you... Lucio." the taller man responds by nuzzling his nose into the shorter man's hair with a confused hum. "I never thought I could do this...” Iolas voice wavers but only slightly as he takes Lucios hand in his. The weight of the ring feels odd but strangely comforting. “... but for the first time, I'm not scared." Lucio smiles at that. and squeezes his lover in his arms.

"Good. We can be fearless together."

[jokertrap-ran]

时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) EVENT! 「书中童话：魔女的冒险」 Fairy-tale within the Book: The Adventures of the Witch Translations (Alkaid’s Route)

夜莺与玫瑰: 星辉灿烂 — The Nightingale and the Rose Chapter 4: Brilliant Starlight [After Story]

“If this is a dream, then this should be my most unforgettable one yet.”

*For All Time Master-list | Alkaid’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut!

I'd never thought that the consciousness of the Alkaid of the Modern World would end up here as well...

Alkaid: (Y/n), just what is this place?

Alkaid: I remember that not too long ago, I was still developing some photos at home, and then… I think I fell asleep.

Alkaid: I dreamt of a long and vague dream and found myself here when I woke up.

After everything in the garden of golden roses had subsided, Alkaid blinked, looking at me in confusion as he asked me a couple of questions.

Alkaid: I still seem to be in a dream, but yet, you look so very real.

Saying so, he reached out, attempting to touch my face, only for his hand to stop mid-air. He was afraid of offending me, even in his dreams.

Alkaid: Tell me, (Y/n). Is this a dream?

I didn't know how to answer him.

The Alkaid standing before me now had the same consciousness as my senior, Alkaid, back in St. Shelter's University.

Is all of this a dream? It should be. But I can't explain how his consciousness found its way here, into this dreamland.

After staying here for a while, I could feel that this dream was beautiful and moving; even more acutely so. This dreamscape was filled with childhood fantasies, the fragrance of roses, and the whispering of nightingales.

It was a dream that made people unwilling to awaken from.

MC: It’s a dream…

Halfway through my words, I looked at him, basking under the moonlight, turning the tables and asking him the questions this time round.

MC: But will you be scared if this is a dream that you can never wake up from, for an eternity?

He pondered for a while. Silence rang out throughout the garden as he thought it through. The nightingales had stopped singing, and I could hear my heartbeat picking up once more, racing under their curious gazes.

Alkaid: Of course not.

Alkaid: Nothing can terrify me so, other than you not being by my side.

Alkaid's tone was gentle, yet firm with resoluteness.

Alkaid: If you wish to leave, I will do my hardest to find a way out for us; and if you wish to stay, I will stay, together with you…

Alkaid: Only if because it’s you, (Y/n).

Alkaid's words were painfully straightforward, his gentle green eyes fixated on me in all it's seriousness, neither evading or avoiding my own.

This should just be all a dream; so why does the feeling of my heart thumping in my chest feel so real? I was a little afraid that he'd be able to hear my heartbeat, steadily growing ever stronger within the confines of my chest.

The nightingales began to sing again; it was a joyful tune. Maybe I heard this melody in a love song somewhere before…

Taken aback by it, I was stunned for a good while before I remembered that I hadn't yet answered his question.

MC: This is a dream, so we probably won’t be kept here for too long.

Maybe, Alkaid will forget everything that transpired here when he wakes up in the real world.

Alkaid: I probably shouldn’t feel this way, but I do find it a little regretful.

He smiled, raising his head a little to view the vast sky beyond the canopies of the garden.

The stars and the moon hung loftily up in the sky. Between the bright moon and the shining stars above, there seemed to be endless mysteries hidden between their midst.

The nightingales' song lightened up, with one or two fluttering down with their wings, perching onto his shoulder and pecking at his hair.

He glanced at the roses in the garden, stretching out a hand to touch the night dew that trembled upon the golden petals.

Alkaid: This is a beautiful dream. I think that many fantasies can come to life here, be it however naive or unrealistic it may be.

Alkaid: It makes me tempted to stay here a little longer with you. What about you, (Y/n)? Do you feel the same?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

His eyes appeared to contain starlight itself, gleaming gentle and pure.

MC: Of course. I'm of the same mind too; I want to stay here with you for a while longer…

Seeing that I was a little embarrassed at that, Alkaid gave a small smile before averting his gaze elsewhere.

Alkaid: This garden is very beautiful and unique; shall we admire it together?

MC: Sure. I came here earlier than you, so I can bring you around and introduce you to places.

I hurriedly walked two paces in front of him, leading him through the moonlit pathway of the garden.

Alkaid strolled idly behind me, listening to me as I introduced him to the flowers of the garden and the other small nightingales that I'd come up with names for.

MC: This one's called "Chirpie", and this one's "Xiao'ba"...

The corners of Alkaid's mouth quirked slightly upwards as he listened to my introductions. He couldn't help but to laugh at that.

MC: Are the names I came up with that funny?

I wanted to pretend to be mad about it, but I knew that he'd only see through my pretence.

Alkaid: No, I was just thinking about how interestingly cute you are.

The starry glimmer in his eyes rekindled again, making my heart lurch slightly at the unexpected reminder of it had felt to be pricked by the thorns of the rose's stem.

MC: Alkaid.

Alkaid: Yes?

He replied, concerned. Shaking my head, I smiled at him.

MC: Nothing; just felt like calling you.

My cheeks burned, and I couldn't help but to tear my eyes away from his face and change the subject.

MC: Right, how about you try and see if you're able to summon up your wings?

I recalled that Alkaid, who was The Nightingale, himself, had once called upon his wings; great, big, feathery ones, capable of taking him all the way to the skies.

Alkaid: I have that sort of ability here?

MC: Yup, give it a try. I'll even help you focus—

I reached out towards Alkaid. He gave me a slight smile before pressing his hand to mine.

Warm palms touching, Alkaid slightly wiggled his fingers, looking at me before closing his eyes.

I could feel the magic running through both our bodies.

Soon, pure white particles of light came out from our hands, akin to fireflies. It increased, gathered, and filled the small sky above us both.

Alkaid: Ngh…

Alkaid's brows furrowed. It appeared that making his own wings erupt from his back caused him pain.

After a while, the wings upon his back suddenly stretched out to its full wingspan; his huge wings encasing us both along with several falling feathers in succession, like feathery snow from the skies.

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MC: You did it!

I thought that maybe he'd like this experience, considering how much time he spent looking up at the skies. Although this was all just a dream, it still felt decidedly real.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Alkaid opened his eyes, smiling down at me; his wings slowly folded behind him, before retreating back into his body.

Alkaid: I think I can control furling and unfurling my wings now.

His forehead was dripping with sweat, but his smile was genuine.

Alkaid: Thank you for letting me experience such a novel thing, (Y/n). If this is a dream, then this should be my most unforgettable one yet.

After having said that, Alkaid paused for a while before extending his hand towards me once more. Under the moonlight, his magic gathered, condensing into tiny white spots of light upon his fingertips.

Alkaid: (Y/n), how would you like to try flying with me now?

MC: Sure, I’d be glad to.

I nodded, deciding to forgo the fact that I had a magical broomstick, and placed my hand in his.

He held on tightly to my hand, pulling me into his embrace as the wings behind his back flared out once more, leading us out of the garden, weaving through the clouds, and finally, reaching the vast expense of the starry night sky…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥The Adventures of the Witch✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

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