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#he was my dad in that dream this time tho and with how domestic this ad was it reminded me of that jvLAEKJ

gabessquishytum · 6 months

Note

This is a bit of a domestic fluff thing for the Hoblings AU.

Determination (Dante)

Deception (Dimitri)

Delight (Delilah)

Destruction (Daphne)

Hope (Roberta)

Dream heir/Drowsy (Dorian)

Danger (Damien)

I made this list so we can keep everything straight (as straight as we can lol)

The kids split their time evenly among the waking and the dreaming much like regular mortals do except they get special privileges from being the king’s kids. It’s not spilt custody tho cause Hob can enter the dreaming and Dream can be in the waking.

When they are older the kids get the choice to either stay primarily on earth or create realms of their own. (Even Dorian will get this choice)

Basically when a child turns 18 they will be given a year to live primarily on earth and then at the end of this year they will decide.

Daphne decided to stay on earth, she has a girlfriend and a job constructing and then deconstructing sets for a local theater. She is a huge muscular woman who the rest of crew are a little afraid of, (“I once saw her carrying around a ton of metal beams like it was nothing!”) but she really is a sweetheart. Of course they don’t find this out until her Papa comes to visit.

She’s currently building a set for this theater’s production of Chicago and she’s in charge of the metal frame work, mostly because she’s the only one that can do it, when from stage left enters a jovial professor looking type.

“Daffy? Daffy Duck?”

Daphne laughs, only one person calls her that, she turns around and hugs her Papa who is slightly lifted off the ground.

“Papa, what are you doing here? I’m working.”

“What? Is work more important than dear old dad?” He teases.

“No, no, what’s up,” she brings him to the edge of the stage and sit down, their feet dangling off the edge.

“Well your sister made you cookies and wanted me to drop them off for her. She hopes you like em,” he emphasizes the word Hope and they giggle like it’s some sort of inside joke.

“I’m sure I will, something else you gotta tell me or is it just the cookies?”

Hob rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m hosting a family dinner at the house, tonight.”

“Family dinner? That’s not for another two months!”

“Yeah, yeah I know, but your father and I have a little announcement to make”

She rolled her eyes.

“Please tell me you did not get him pregnant again.”

He goes beat red and gets up.

“Ah no no no, I told ya Dorian’s the last one, six at the inn, bring that girlfriend of yours if you like.”

Hob exits perused by a bear. (Who he will later have to politely decline the offer for a date from)

Her crew start opening up to her after that.

Dream was responsible for telling Dimitri who spent most his time in The Threshold much to Dream’s chagrin and Delilah who was apprenticing under Delirium. Roberta and Dorian still lived with Hob and Dream so they had no choice in the matter. There was just one more kid who needed informing, and it was Hob’s job.

He got up on the roof of the New Inn. Dante was always the hardest to get in contact with since his endless abilities had him traveling the word. Hob had to the take a bit of a magical or madman approach depending on how you look at it.

“Dante? Dante can you hear me? I’m calling out to you like Dream told me too, Dante? I need ya to come to the inn from where ever you are. You’re not missing a family dinner on my watch.” Nothing, absolute silence.

“Well shit, maybe that what’s the paper’s for,” Hob pulls out a crumpled bit a paper that Dante gave him during the last family dinner incase he needed to contact him, Hob looked at the little scrap and sighed.

“I’m not saying this, it’s stupid. You should just come here cause I’m your father and I say so,” more silence.

“Fiiiiiine” he takes a deep breathe in. “Dante I summon thee.” And with a little more reluctance, “I’m determined to speak with you,”

The winds shifted and suddenly his eldest was before him.

“It’s a stupid pun, Dante,”

“It took me a long time to come up with that,” he retorted.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not stupid, where’d I snatch you from?”

“India,”

“Good boy, lot of fun India, course I haven’t been in a couple of centuries and-“

Dante puts a hand in front of Hob’s face to stop one of his legendary rambles.

“You know I’m always happy to see you but why did you summon me, pops?”

Hob claps him on the back.

“To invite you to family dinner of course,”

“But family dinner is not for another two months!”

Hobs laughs.

“Oh, you and your sister, two peas you are.”

“I gotta lotta sisters, Pops. When’s dinner?”

Hob giggles to himself as he opens the door on the roof.

“Everyone’s downstairs and you’re the last to arrive so…now!”

Dante jumps back almost hitting a chimney.

“Jesus Pops! Give a man some warning! You know I don’t like impromptu socialization!”

“Get used to it sunny boy!” Hob cackles as he gently pushes Dante down the stairs.

Everyone was gather around a table, all six kids and Daphne’s girlfriend. the only one missing was Dream.

Hob figured he was in the kitchen preparing for the big announcement.

“Dream? Babygirl?”

“Hob Gadling, do not call me that when others are present,”

Hob hugs him from behind.

“They can’t hear me. And besides what if I want them to know you’re my precious baby girl?”

Hob kisses him on the neck.

“Whose is that woman with the curly hair? She’s not one of our children is she? I feel like I would’ve have remembered that.” Dream muses, ignore Hob who is still kissing at his neck.

“That’s Melanie, Daphne’s girlfriend. I invited her, so play nice papa bear.”

“I merely wish to look out for my daughters best interest.”

“I know baby, speaking of, you ready?”

“I suppose,”

Like a king and queen entering a royal ball The Gadlings make their way to the dinning room.

“Children,” dream said in his big godly voice.

Everyone whipped their heads up from their conversations and looked at Dream expectantly.

“Hello everyone! So glad you could make it! Hi Melanie!” Hob said as Melaine shrunk a little in her seat while Daphne gave her Papa a death glare.

“You maybe wondering why’ve we’ve called a surprise family dinner, well… your father and I have an announcement! Dream, if you will?”

Dream gave a small smirk, “Your Papa knocked me up,” then he sat down putting a hand on his not even there baby bump.

There was an uproar!

“Dream I thought we agreed you wouldn’t say it like that!”

“I thought you said Dorian was the last one!”

“Dad’s pregnant?”

“Papa you swore it wasn’t another baby announcement!”

“Hob Gadling master of sex, shit at using protection,”

“Dimitri!”

“Congratulations… Mr. Gadlings,” that one was Melanie.

“Just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you pops?”

“Enough children, I asked for a seventh baby, to carry on the tradition of the endless siblings…”

Then all of the siblings telepathically communicated with each other in a way only siblings can and then all at the same time shouted, “NOT IT”

(Yes I’m officially dubbing it the Hoblings AU)

-🦎 anon

Hoblings!!!! I love this. Just imagine the scene at Christmas:

Dimitri: a couple of us have clubbed together to get your gift this year pops. Don't use 'em all at once!

Hob: *unwraps the biggest box of condoms you've ever seen in your entire life*

*screeching and cackling from assembled Hoblings*

Dream, who was definitely in on the plan in the first place: behave yourselves children, how could you be so immature 🤭

I wonder what the next little Hobling will turn out to be. It would be interesting if they turn out to be entirely "normal" and human. But that might be a little bit sad considering all their siblings have their functions. Discovery of the Endless, maybe? Who knows. They will be very, very loved though. And with Dream pregnant all over again and Hob having both the time and wherewithal to enjoy it, they're definitely going to be using those condoms <3

#🦎 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw mpreg #cw pregnancy

39 notes · View notes

last-starry-sky · 6 months

Text

Girl's Night Out - ch. 2 pt. 3

friday|saturday|sunday

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

pairing: Ghost x shy!goth!f!reader

rating: E

summary: Oh Sunday, a day of endings. Everything is going so well until those pesky feelings get tangled and what has to happen, happens.

word count: 10.2k (bruh)

warning: mdni, not beta-read and barely edited, a truck-load of self doubt and issues from reader, size difference 💀, fingering, light d/s /praise/authority kink (idk what to exactly call it), mention of death of a parent, unprotected piv (she's explicitly on the pill tho), more domestic fluff, angst right at the end. a/n at the end!

Repeating my warning hear for all of the chapters, I have committed the ultimate, unforgivable sin in this: Ghost is maskless. So if that ruins it for you, sit this one out.

sunday

Simon was the one who woke you early the next morning. It was gentle and unintentional. The birds were singing outside, but the sun had not yet broken over the horizon. Your room was bathed in an intense blue that even your curtains couldn’t hold back. You had hardly noticed you weren’t dreaming as you felt his breath rustle through your hair and his hand trace over your shoulder in a circle. You let your hand fall against his left arm, outstretched into the middle of the bed. He had pulled you against his chest again, just like the first night. You ran your fingers over the flames between his tattoos, drinking in the warmth of his skin. You were so warm here, warm and protected and-

“Tell you about mine,” he whispered in his grumbly morning-voice, fingers now obviously tracing the outline of the skull and flowers on your shoulder blade, “if you tell me about yours.”

Oh.

Your hand stilled on his arm. His still traced their soothing pattern across your back. You should have felt the familiar pit form in your stomach, or your nerves begin to make you shake, but you didn’t. You blew out the breath you were holding. Maybe it was time to tell him.

“Don’t hav-” he started to say.

“Got it two years ago. For my dad,” you interrupted.

You felt his fingers trace over the round lines of the skull at the center of your tattoo: the empty eye sockets, the nasal openings, the neat row of teeth. You had started to do the same to the large skull in the middle of his forearm. You let out another shaking breath. You could feel the questions he wanted to ask, that he wished he could pull directly from the ink in your skin and not have to use his mouth to form stumbling human words to. Words were wrong, you felt. Unnecessary. You tapped your fingers on his inked skin. That’s why you always held them in until it was too late.

“He died five years ago. Cancer,” you whispered.

“Sorry,” he said pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “It was- he went quick. No pain,” you added, voice cracking. Simple words that shouldn’t have been so painful. Still so painful.

His thumb smoothed over the banner that ran above and below the skull. You knew what he was going to ask before he opened his mouth.

“Wha’s this say?” he asked.

“Memento Mori,” you recited from memory.

“Latin?” he asked.

You nodded your head. “It’s an old saying: ‘Remember Death’. My dad loved philosophy, was always sending me books for my birthday,” you remembered wistfully, almost laughing. “It helped after he was gone to think about . . . everything like that.”

“Hows that?” he asked.

“That we all could die at any time. That all we have is this one life and in the end, we all end up the same.” You stroked the skull on his arm again, resting your hand against his wrist.

“What about the flowers?” he asked shuffling down to press his face into your neck.

“One for my mom, my step-mom, and my brother,” you said with a shiver as he kissed slowly down your neck.

“Which one’s which?” he said into the crook of your shoulder.

“The rose is for my step-mom. The sunflower is my mom’s. Their favorite flowers.” You sighed, wanting so desperately to turn around so you could kiss him, but his hand on your shoulder kept you in place.

“What about your brother?” he asked, “Make it sound like he didn’t get his favorite.”

You sighed, this time in annoyance. “He wouldn’t pick. Said he ‘didn’t have one’, so I asked his fiance and my mom to pick for him.”

“What’d they pick?” he asked running his fingers down the long stem of the unfamiliar flower.

“Lavender. It grows wild, like a weed almost, where he lives. His fiance said he refused to get rid of any of the plants in their yard when they moved into their house, that he would sit outside in the mornings after they bloomed, enjoying the smell. We all figured it’s his favorite, but he won’t admit to it.”

“Where’s he live?” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your spine.

“Washington state,” you said uneasily. You were unsure if he would ever notice your strange accent or other non-British quirks. He hadn’t said anything yet.

“You from there too?” he asked.

“No,” you said. You paused to refamiliarize your mouth with American English before you continued. “Grew up in Illinois.”

He laughed into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skull. You blushed. “Thought you sounded like an expat.” He slid his hand under your shirt and down your stomach to press you to him. You shivered against his hardening cock. “How’d y’ end up here?” he asked sinking his hand lower, past your panties. You were reminded that you had kicked your pants off in the night, too warm cuddled in Simon’s embrace.

You gasped as he split your folds apart, his fingers following close behind, pressing and circling your clit. He didn’t expect you to keep talking like this, did he? He only gave you a few flicks of his wrist before he stopped. He leaned in to whisper huskily in your ear.

“Hear me?”

You groaned, clenching on nothing, trying to collect your thoughts from the lustful haze he had drug you into. He was so fucking unfair sometimes and you hated that you loved it.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, “It’s . . . complicated.”

“Don’t mind that,” he said flatly, reaching his hand up to squish your breast. His hands were softer today, but the texture of his skin still tingled deliciously as he rolled your nipple in his fingers. “Tell me.”

You sighed, bucking back against him. “My dad’s from- was from England. He moved to the states for work. He was working for an international firm and they needed a lawyer in Chicago. He met my mom while she was working there too and everything went off from there. Marriage. Kids.” His hand lightly started to trace down to your body again. It made you tremble in anticipation. “When they got divorced he moved back here. Got remarried.” he breached your labia and started to circle your clit again. “Not much else to say,” you sighed, bowing into his hand.

“Yeah there is,” he said, his arm pulling your leg to rest over his, splaying you open for better access. He sent his hand lower to pump a finger into you. You let out a long moan as he did.

“W’as that?” you slurred, barely coherent.

“Why’d you leave?” he growled into your ear. The tone of his voice was sending you. “Grew up in the states. Whole family there.” he was pumping into you furiously. You gripped at his arm with both hands, face buried in the sheets. “Must’ve had a comfortable life. Why’d you go through all the trouble? Why leave ‘em behind?”

He hit your g-spot and you cried out, throwing your head back as you did. Simon took immediate advantage. He curled up his left arm to brace across your chest, holding you, arms and all, in place as he hit that spot again and again. You were crying out, trembling under his assault. Your head was empty of everything except the wild desire to cum. He bucked against your ass, groaning into your ear. His fingers squelched in your pussy with every movement. You were so close.

“Why?” he demanded loudly, almost angry.

“No one else would go!” you cried, slamming into your peak hard with a full body shudder, tears falling from your eyes.

Simon pulled his fingers from you when he felt your tears hit his skin. It was too late though. You were already over the edge, bowing against his back, trembling against him, sobbing as you worked through the weirdest, most emotional, orgasm you’d ever had. You buried your face in your hands after you let out your last sob, ecstasy washed from you and replaced with shame. You’d ruined it. You’d ruined everything.

“Hey,” he said softly. He sat up to loom over you, his hand petting at your side.

You didn’t want to look at him, but he rolled you onto your back and pulled your hands away. You didn’t fight him. He looked down at you sadly, a frown quirked across his mouth. He watched you wipe away your tears.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” you said, meaning to sound soft but your rough throat made it aggressive.

You ran your hands up through your hair. You sat up too, leaning against the side of the window for support. You pulled your knees into your chest.

“You deserve to know. To hear everything.” You sighed as you let your shoulders rest flat against the window, spine straight. “My dad called me one night. Didn’t really say anything, just said he missed me, wanted me to fly out if I could. That’s how he was. I was in a weird place in my life,” you said with a small huff of a laugh. That was putting it very gently. “I wasn’t really doing anything important, so I took him up on it. I flew out the next day.” You swallowed hard as you thought how to phrase what you wanted to say next. “I knew something was wrong when I saw my stepmom was there to pick me up at the airport. Dad always wanted to be the first one to see me.” Your voice broke at the end, tears starting to blur your vision again. “He was gone two weeks later.” You tried to wipe them away. “Shouldn’t be crying over it still, after all these years.”

Simon pulled himself close. He was looking at you, close to you, not trying to touch you, just still. Cautious. Thinking. Planning. A frown was still cut into his face. “I-I was too hard with you. Pushed you. Shouldn’t have-” He bit his lip.

“I didn’t mind,” you confessed, wiping your eyes on the hem of your shirt. Simon was silent. You let out a breath. “I actually . . . I liked it,” you said in a whisper.

Simon finally moved, resting his back to wall on the other side of the window, rumpling the curtain. Light flooded his side of the room. He was quiet for a second. “What’d you mean?”

You took initiative, for once, and looked at him. His face was lit bright blue by the early morning sky. “I like it when you talk like that, when you’re fucking me,” you said looking up at him with your large, tear-rimmed eyes. When he didn’t respond, you looked away, laughing. “If that makes any sense,” you added.

“So, you get off when I’m mean to you?” he asked, suspicion dripping from his voice.

His crass phrasing made you smirk. “No, not mean,” you insisted, leaning forward. You searched for the right words and came up empty. “More like . . . dominant?”

“Commanding?” he added. You nodded. That was the perfect word, the one you had been searching for. He groaned, rolling back against the wall. He reached up and covered your hand on your knee with his. He ran his other hand over his face. “How’d I fuckin’ end up with a girl like you,” he mumbled into his hand.

You heard him and it made you blanche. “Is that . . . bad?” you asked.

He removed his hand from his face and looked at you. “Christ no. It’s just-” he said squeezing your hand with a small laugh, “That’s my job. Tellin’ men what to do, where to go. Spendin’ weeks barkin’ out orders ‘til my voice is shot. Figures it would bleed over.” The possibility of his voice being deeper and rougher than it was now certainly was something you needed to think on further.

He laughed a short little laugh and you joined him. His hand left your knee to pull around your shoulders. This was . . . good? You were hopeful.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want,” you told him, “Just don’t feel bad if you get a little mean or rough. I can handle it.”

He laughed at that, that wide, wry smile spreading across his face. He quickly pivoted his body to slide his other arm under your legs. He scooped you up from the bed with a squeal.

“Oh love,” he said with a smile, “you don’t want to see me when I’m mean,” he said carrying you out to the living room.

He set you on the couch, wrapping you in the blanket, before wandering off to the kitchen without another word. You heard him dump the coffee grounds from yesterday in the trash and start a fresh pot. Then you heard him start to run the water in the sink, followed by dishes falling into the hot, soapy, water one by one.

“Don’t have to do the dishes yet!” you called, not wanting to move from your warm spot on the couch.

“Want to!” he yelled back, the sound of your silverware clinked into the drying rack over the water and his voice. “Besides, need something to fill the time waiting for the coffee.”

“I could make breakfast?” you asked, remembering how much he had liked your slap-dash egg on toast yesterday. If you had time, you could really pull out all the stops to impress him. Simon didn’t respond, probably set on his decision.

He came around the corner with two mugs of steaming coffee. “Don’t want you to move from there until you wake up, hear me?” he said handing you your cup.

“Okay,” you said taking it from him. You sipped at the black coffee, wincing a bit. “You know I have cream and sugar, right?”

Simon was pulling your curtains open, dawn having finally broken. He stood looking out at the empty street while you talked. “I don’t mind,” he said taking a long drink from his own cup.

You just stared at him. He had just told you that you were forbidden from getting up. You held your stare as you shuffled forward an inch, hopefully communicating your intentions. He understood your actions, quickly stepping over to snatch your cup from your hands.

“Thank you!” you called as he stalked back to the kitchen.

You heard the refrigerator open, then your ceramic sugar pot, followed by a quick, tinkling, stir. He was back before you could tell him how you wanted it. As he leaned down to set the warm cup back in your hands, you hopped up to peck him on the lips. He tried to cover up his sleepy smile by turning away, sipping his bitter coffee, but you saw it. You hid your own in your mug of now more palatable coffee.

He leaned against the window, letting you take up the couch. Nothing broke the silence between you while you followed his orders: drink your coffee and wake up. He must have spent the time as you did, thinking. You were wrapped up in plans for the day, which wasn’t much. With Simon here, you only had to put away your laundry and put fresh sheets on your bed. Not that you wanted to. You liked smelling him when you curled together at night. You had been right at the bar on Friday night. It wasn’t cologne or anything special that made him smell like that, it was just him. Even after spending two days surrounded by your laundry detergent and using your shower products.

You pressed your legs together as you buried your face in your coffee. Fuck, thinking of him was winding you up again. You were still painfully wet and horny from before. You had hoped he would fuck you this morning, but things had gone sideways. You sighed. You hazarded a look up and, yep, he was watching you. You quickly turned back to your coffee, about to take a sip but you were left staring at the bottom of the cup.

“Another?” he asked, still cooly leaning against the wall, the long line of his legs making him look so much taller. You nodded and he popped off to step toward you. You tried not to feel like jelly when your hands brushed as he took the cup from you. “Same?” he asked staring down at you.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly, hoping you sounded tired and not desperately turned on, “It was good, however you made it.”

He chuckled and walked away, leaving you to bury your hands in your lap trying to relieve the pressure. You distracted yourself by watching people begin to go about their lives outside: walking their dogs and children, dressed up people on their way to church.

The cup appeared next to your face, almost making you jump. You took it from him with shaking hands and a quick thanks. You took another drink as Simon took up post next to you, abandoning his position at the window. His hand came up to soothe over your shoulder. It was a simple, chaste, gesture, but it made you clench, blowing the steam off the top of your cup.

“Plans for the day?” he asked, hand still massaging over your shoulder and back.

“Yeah,” you said leaning into the strong press of his hand. He stopped and you blew out another relieved breath. “Gotta get the laundry folded and put away. Pick up the apartment.” Your stomach rolled as he kneeled down to your level, his arm curling around your waist.

“Dishes are done,” he said pulling himself closer to your face, lips brushing together. “Leaves the rest of the day.”

You pushed yourself the last centimeter together, shivering as your mouths met. You heard Simon’s cup clank against the floor, his free hand then coming up to cup your jaw. You gripped your cup in your lap, keening as he pressed his tongue into your mouth. You moaned pitifully as he pulled away too soon. Simon carefully took the cup from your lap, setting it on the floor besides his own, before letting you pull him back.

“Si,” you whimpered as he pulled away to breathe.

“Jus’ for a little bit, love,” he groaned, pulling your legs off the couch so your body could face him, “Gotta get our work done first.”

Our work. You whined at the thought of it as he pressed back in to kiss you. You untangled your legs from the blanket, kicking it to the floor so you could loop your knees around his waist. You thought he was going to push you away when you felt his hands on your knees, but he just groaned as he ran his hands up your bare legs to your hips. His thumb innocently rubbed against the lace border of your panties. You bucked pitifully as he did.

He pulled away and looked down. “You ain’t-” he said huskily, turning into a low groan as he saw how soaked you were. “Ain’t no way.” He pressed his thumb to your wet panties, slicking up from your leaking hole as you shuddered. “Jesus,” he groaned, “an’ you said I was easy.”

“Si!” you cried against his mouth, “Please!”

“Please what?” he questioned, his tone turning on a dime, breath hot against your face. He pressed two fingers cruelly hard against your clothed clit, making you shudder again.

“Please fuck me!” you cried, balling your hands in his shirt, all of your shyness melted away. “Want you to fuck me again. Need it.”

He claimed your mouth again, kissing you with a tenderness that mismatched with the rough pace of his hand. He locked the fingers of his free hand in the hair at the back of you head before pulling you away from his mouth.

“Tha’s what my girl wants, hmm?” he said breathlessly, voice hard. You were nodding, communicating all you could as he swirled your brain. You were laser focused on only one thing: my girl. He pressed your face back to his but refused to kiss you. “Then y’ gotta be good and get y’ work done after. Copy?”

“Copy,” you responded weakly. Fuck, you didn’t think you could sink any farther down into what he was doing to you, whatever it was called, but you loved it. You wanted it.

He hauled you up off the couch, spinning around and stomping off to your bed. A stripe of daylight still lit your bed where the Simon had moved the curtain. Simon dropped you on the mattress with seemly little care. You let out an oof as you landed.

“Okay?” he said shucking off his shirt.

You nodded as he stood in between your legs, walking up the bed on his knees to you. When he got there, he leaned down to pull your shirt off. He lay over you, giving in for a moment to make out with you before kissing down your body to you navel. He shuffled both of you legs to one side of his chest. When he got there, he sat up, pulling your underwear up off your hips, letting them slide agonizingly slow up your legs, before tossing them behind him.

He let your legs fall open, watching as the sticky, slick folds of your vagina opened as well. You’d thought you were brave before, but now you felt so scrutinized. You covered your face with your hands as Simon’s fingers stroked over you gently. You moaned as he circled your hole with those two thick fingers.

You let your hands fall away as you looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at you face. He was lost: blush lightly coloring his cheeks, pupils dilated to consume his brown irises, breathing raspy and uneven, he was entirely concentrated on your little hole clenching so nicely for him. It made you moan at how much he wanted you, and how much you wanted him.

“How’m I gonna fit in there?” he mumbled, pushing in just the tips of his fingers, swirling them around your slick, working the tight muscle open. Fuck, why was he choosing now to be so gentle?

“It’ll fit,” you sighed as he pushed his fingers in further.

Simon’s counter to your blissed out answer was to palm his cock against his briefs, emphasizing his size.

“Couldn’t before,” he grunted.

You knit your brows together in frustration and pushed yourself down against his fingers, driving them in deeper. Simon gasped as you did. You squelched as he scissored his fingers apart, slick running down his fingers.

“Make it fit,” you told him, voice hard and eyes serious as you humped against his hand, “Want all of you.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, locking eyes with you. The fingers of his other hand bit into your hip as he held you down.

He pulled out his two fingers briefly before returning with three, completely ignoring your pleasure to focus on working you open wide and deep. Not that you didn’t get anything from it. You fell into the rhythmic pump of his hand, filling you up before twisting away. He was punching little gasps out out you at the height of every thrust.

He leaned over you, giving in again to kiss you, letting you lock your arms around his neck. His stubble was longer today, pricking incessantly at your face. The thought of that stubble rubbing against your cunt as he ate you out shot like lightning through your mind. You were clenching around his fingers, stopping them from moving hardly at all, before you could stop yourself. He groaned against your mouth. He pushed his body up to slot evenly with you, splaying your legs open around him, allowing him to rut against you just once.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me doin’ things like that, love. Y’ like it that much?” he whispered against your mouth.

“Yes, Si. Just-” you said, pawing at the back of his head. He stroked, almost intentionally, over your g-spot, just as you spoke, sending you shuddering silently back against the bed.

“What’s that love?” He asked, peppering slow kisses across your face, as he worked over that spot again and again and again.

“Si, please!” you managed to gasp out, fingers pulling at his short hair. You let out a long whine as he continued to stroke you open.

“Gettin’ y’ there, love, don’t worry. I’ll get you there,” he said sweet and low right in your ear. It made you want to sob. “Been so good f’ me so far. Lovely girl deserves to cum again, yeah?”

“-yeah,” you cried weakly, clutching him close to your face. Your head was swimming with delicious sparks again. He kissed at your top lip, parted as they were with your constant string of sighs and moans.

“Then cum f’ me,” he said rolling the rough pad of his thumb deliciously over your clit.

That was all you needed. You were shuddering up the bed as you came with a high-pitched gasp. Your thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at once, leaving your head floating and empty. Aware of nothing but what was present, nothing but what you felt against your skin. You bowed up against his torso, his hand not stopping as he worked you gently through your high.

“‘s a good girl,” he sighed against your neck, “So good f’ me.”

Fuck. That had you screwing your eyes shut even tighter and clenching around him again. He was going to be the death of you at this rate. Your hands clenched in his hair again. He chuckled, pulling his fingers from you. He gripped both your hips, pressing his thumbs into the dips above your pelvis.

“Ready?” he breathed across your lips.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said blankly back, eyes as glassy as his were dark.

With that, he pulled away, sitting back on his heels. He looked so beautiful in the morning light. That singular, golden stripe of light from the crack in your curtains, threw a line across his stomach, highlighting the divot of a long, vicious scar as well as the trail of delicate, dark gold hairs running down from his belly button. He looked down at you as he shucked off his briefs. You sighed at the sight of him, the tip was leaking strings where it knocked against his stomach. You were so fucking ready to have him inside you again.

Have him . . . inside you, you thought again, running your mind over the thought like a bump in the wood you knew shouldn’t be there. You shot upright, heart pounding. Simon reeled back, surprise and concern painted on his face.

“What-” all he could get out before you interrupted, wriggling off of the bed.

“Forgot to take my pill! Be right back!” you exclaimed dashing naked out of the room. You were back half a minute later, Simon was still sat where you left him. “Sorry,” you said sitting back down, swallowing hard behind your hand, trying to force the little pill down your throat, “Hope I didn’t ruin the mood.”

“No, not at all,” he said helping you slide back into place, his hands running up your legs, “Didn’t know. Would have reminded you.” Of course he would have, you thought blushing. “Should’ve asked you earlier, honestly,” he added, leaning down over you again.

“Not tryin’ to baby trap you, Si,” you sighed as he nuzzled against your jaw, stubble pricking you. He pressed a kiss over the red marks he left. “Don’t even like it when guys cum in me, anyway.”

“Really,” he said flatly, kissing the side of your mouth. “When’s the last time that happened?”

You blew out a long breath, thinking back five years. Simon leaned over on his arm and stared down at you as you talked.

“It was the first guy I was with when I moved here. I didn’t want anything serious, given . . . everything that had just happened and the chaos of my life. We were on again/off again, but I could tell he wanted more. I always got the icky feeling he wanted to knock me up so he could convince me to marry him.”

Simon raised his eyebrows at that, biting his lip. “Husband material,” he commented dryly.

“Glad I wised up and left him,” you said reaching over to run your hand over the blonde fuzz covering his jaw. He leaned into your hand, closing his eyes. “Told him a thousand times I didn’t want kids, but he never wanted to hear it,” you added lightly, almost as an afterthought.

His eyes opened, flashing to yours. “Same,” he said rolling his head to kiss at your palm, then, grabbing your hand with his, your wrist. His eyes never left yours.

He pivoted over to lay in between your legs again. He scooped up your face in both his hands, tipping your head back so he could kiss you deeply. You raked your hands down his chest, melting into his touch. When you broke apart, you both sighed. Simon stopped to look down the press of your bodies. Neither of you could ignore his cock anymore as he knocked against you, sliding through the obscene wetness that painted you from your navel to your thighs.

He caught a groan in his throat, closing his eyes at the sight. “Wanna fuck you so bad,” he said in a deep, strangled voice.

You stroked up his ribs soothingly until he opened his eyes to look down at you. You reached down, gently guiding his tip to rest at your entrance. The whole head popped in with no effort, causing him to jut forward with another strangled groan.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, y’ know that? Doin’ shit like that. Fuckin’-” He cut himself off as he smashed down you kiss you.

They were hungry, wild kisses, that ate your moans as he rutted himself deeper and deeper inside you. This was so entirely different from the first time you fucked. Different, but good. This wasn’t gentle, or just barely so. There had to be something left of his rational, human, brain still functioning right now as your slick coated his cock, sliding and stretching you open, that knew he had to stop if you showed any sign of pain. But there just wasn’t any pain. It was pure pleasure as his tip nailed that spot with every thrust and his thickness filled you better than anything or anyone ever had before.

He palmed at your hip as he broke away from you again. “Fuckin’ hell, love,” he said shifting just a bit more forward, his balls pressing against your ass. You could have gasped. It was all in. “Y’ fuckin’ did it,” he said proudly.

You smiled a stupid, blissed out smile up at him. The light from the window blinding you as it shone down across your chest and face.

“Had help,” you sighed out, not wanting him to forget all of the hard work he had just done.

He wasn’t one to rest on his laurels, apparently, as he was immediately shifting up on his knees, pulling you with him. He pressed his hand to your stomach, the butt of his palm just above your bikini line with fingers fanned out, reaching up over your belly button. He groaned as he pressed his hand down, slowly rutting into you at the same time, feeling himself inside you.

“Gonna fuck the shit outta y’,” he growled, keeping the same slow pace. He looked down at you. “‘s that what y’ want?”

You nodded, reaching for him. You wanted him wrapped in your arms again, breathing down your neck and kissing you as he gave you everything. He acquiesced to your silent plea, setting you down on the bed before leaning in to let you hold him. He kept one hand on your hip and the other slid up your neck to hold the back of your head. His fingers flexed against your scalp as he pressed in to kiss you. His cock followed right behind, driving into you slowly at first with his pace increasing as you squelched around him.

“Fuck love,” he broke away to say, every one of his thrusts punching out gasps and moans from you, “Doin’ so good f’ me. Such a good girl.”

“Si,” you sighed, head swirling as you clenched around him. You pulled him in to kiss you again. Good girl. It was pressing all the right buttons. His praise was your whole world right now.

“Fuck yeah, y’ like that?” he asked fucking into you at a brutal, even pace. “Like bein’ my good girl?”

“Yes,” you moaned out uncontrollably.

“Know you do,” he said leaning in to nip at your neck, making you gasp. “Not stupid. I feel y’ tighten up when I do. Can feel it right now,” he said slamming forward as you clenched again. “Gonna make yourself cum again if y’ keep doin’ that.”

You shuddered against him. Oh fuck, he was right. Even though he was absolutely railing you as hard as he possibly could, you were still on your way to your third orgasm today. And from what? His voice, just his praise?

He smoothed a hand over your forehead, grounding you. “D’ worry, love. I gotcha. Deserve something good after letting me fuck y’ like this, take this cock so well.”

“Si,” you moaned, brows pushed together, wishing you were like him and could string a coherent sentence together in the middle of sex. “I’m-”

“Close?” he correctly guessed. You nodded. “Want me t’ help?” You nodded again. “Nah, gotta say it, love,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Fuck, Si,” you moaned out, clenching your fingers in his hair as he happened to rut against your clit. “Help me, please. Please touch me.”

He placed a quick kiss across your lips before tearing himself away, leaving you sighing.

“‘s what my girl wants? Play with her pretty pussy so she can cum?” he said moving his hand from your hip to just above your sex.

That sent your head into another galaxy. You threw your head back, covering your mouth to muffle your loud moan from alerting the whole street you were getting the best sex of your life.

“Yes, Si, please,” you pleaded, tears pricking at your eyes.

He didn’t waste anytime. His thumb pressed into your slick, moving up and down your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. It wasn’t fair, how good he made you feel, let alone how fast he made you cum every time. It also wasn’t fair that now he had rewired your brain, you needed him to say it before you let go.

“Si,” you begged, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“What?” he said, cocking his head to the side, trying to reason out why you were crying.

“Tell me I can cum,” you whispered, embarrassed and blushing.

“Fuck,” Simon whispered harshly, his hips coming to a sudden stop. The room was filled with the harsh, haggard breathing from both of you. “Y’ fuckin’ serious?” he asked, almost angrily. You nodded, bucking your hips needily up and down his motionless cock, still desperate to cum. He pinned your hips down with both hands, stopping you. “Fuckin’ bust inside if y’ don’t stop that now.” he growled at you, jaw set.

It should have scared you, but your sick brain loved it. A red-hot wire of need plunged through you, quenching with a hiss as it touched every part of your body. The sudden turn from praise to punishment thrilled some dark part of you.

“Fuckin’ can’t even cum on her own. Gotta do it for ‘er,” he said licking his thumb, even though you knew he knew he didn’t need it. It was all for show. His thumb worked you hard and with precision, leaving you a babbling mess against the sheets. “Ready now?” he said rough and uncaring as he looked down at you. “This needy little cunt ready to cum?”

“-yes,” you sighed barely above a whisper.

“Then cum f’ me then,” he said through clenched teeth, his thumb pressing one last hard roll across your clit.

You bowed off the bed, flood gates to every positive emotion opening in your brain. You didn’t even hear yourself scream, though you know you did because Simon was immediately pressing his mouth to yours, saying something about waking the dead. His hands held your hips as you stuttered against his thrusts, wave after wave of pleasure lapping over you. If you’d thought you’d had the best orgasm of your life on Friday, you were dead wrong. This one left everything before in the dust. You felt yourself come back to reality as you lay flushed and sweaty against the sheets, chest heaving.

You looked up when your brain started functioning again. Simon was looking down at you like you were God’s perfect creation, put here just for him. He gently ran his hand up your ribs, nuzzling his nose against yours. You knew it was just the afterglow, but you felt so warm. So safe and protected in his arms. He pressed a light kiss to your lips. Like you would walk through hell to have this heaven with him.

“Not much longer, love,” he said, slowly pumping into you again. “Did fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ good f’ me.”

You nodded weakly at him, content to lay back and let him do as he pleased. He had given you so much already, had worked so hard, waited so long. He grunted and sighed with every slow thrust. You could feel how soft and pliant you were now, giving him everything he wanted.

“Lookit me,” he said suddenly, forcing your eyes up as he curled his hand around the back of your neck again. He leaned in and sighed against your lips. “Wanna cum while ‘m kissing you.”

You clenched, nodding as he pressed his tongue to yours. The thrusts of both his hips and tongue dissolving into slow, languid pumps. His thumb traced your jaw, following the movements of your mouth.

“‘s too fucking good,” he said resting his forehead to yours, eyes shut and breathing ragged.

Memento Mori, you wanted to remind him. All things must pass. To all things, an end. Even this thing: the little death.

He pressed forward again, cock squelching inside you. “Y’ ready?” he asked, having made peace with his impending orgasm while you had been waxing philosophical.

You nodded. He did as he said he wanted, giving you his last desperate thrusts while sucking on your tongue. He pulled from you with a cry, the white ring you’d left around his cock making you clench around nothing as he wrapped his hand around himself, working himself with your slick. He shut his eyes as he released on you, painting stripes up to your neck with every pump. You thought he was going to fall over when he opened his eyes as saw what he’d done to you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he said falling forward onto his hands, including the one covered in cum. He lifted it up almost immediately. “Shit. Sorry.”

You laughed, light and blissful. “‘s okay,” you said borrowing his phrase. “Changing the sheets today, remember?”

He let himself fall down onto the mattress next to you, rolling over onto his back. You watched him close his eyes as a sweet smile took over his face. He turned his face away, but you saw the edges of his mouth curl up, a faint scar above his lip catching in the light. He was so beautiful like this, light shining through his hair in a blonde halo. It made your heart catch. You loved watching him, loved that he was comfortable around you, loved him. You loved him.

Fuck. You pressed a hand to your mouth. No. No. No. No. No. This was not happening. Not with a one night stand, a random guy, a hook up from a club.

But he wasn’t those things, a terrible part of yourself tried to tell you. You’ve spent three days with him. He’s nice. He cares about you. You know him now.

But did you? Did you really? Or were you both just pretending?

Simon broke your train of thought by sitting up, pulling himself across the mattress with his legs.

“Shower?” He offered kindly, standing over you.

“Yeah . . .” you answered awkwardly, sitting up as well. You sat on the edge of the bed for a minute collecting yourself, still shocked from your revelation. Simon was waiting patiently. “You can go if you want,” you told him, brain not fully caught up. You wanted to take back the words as soon as they left your mouth. “Start the shower, I mean!” you said shocked, looking up at him. Oh god, how had you gone so wrong so fast? “Give me a minute. I’ll be in.”

He nodded and walked away without a word. Somehow, that hurt more. You slumped over to rest your head in your hands. You waited to hear the water running before you stood up. It stung where his drying cum pulled at your skin.

Simon was nice in the shower, showing no sign that what you’d said had bothered him. He was content to wash your body for you again, seeming to get some little enjoyment from washing himself from you. He let you step away to wash your hair while he shaved with your borrowed razor. It impressed you how he could do such a good job, not missing any spots, without a mirror. Must be years of practice, years of having to get by while deployed.

You left the shower first, wanting to get get dressed, in real clothes today, before making breakfast. You toweled off your hair while you stood naked in your bedroom, looking between your closet and wardrobe. You really wanted to wear something cute, something impressive to make up for slubbing around all day yesterday in sweats and an oversized t shirt. The problem was that it was still so cold in your apartment.

You leafed through your skirts and pants. Nothing jumped out at you. Your dresses were all too short, or at least you thought until you doubled back to figure out what you had passed that felt so squishy and comfortable. You thought you had put a sweater in the wrong place, but no, it was a slouchy knit dress. You pulled it out and pressed it against your body. It fell to the middle of your thighs. That would work. You quickly threw on your underwear and a pair of tights. The dress, with an extra pair of socks pulled up over your knees, was super warm even as it fell off your shoulders. A set of tiered necklaces completed the look to your satisfaction.

You were putting on your makeup by leaning rather awkwardly against the long mirror in your room, when Simon left the bathroom to collect his clothes. You caught his eye for a second in the mirror before he looked away.

“I’ll wash your clothes for you, if you want,” you offered, pressing your lips together to smooth out your lipgloss. You thought it was a better option than lipstick, considering what happened last time.

He nodded, tossing everything except for his briefs, which he put back on, into the laundry bin. He moved on to your bed next, pulling the sheets and blankets off.

“You’ll have to run down,” he said as the sheets hit the bin with a soft whump. “In no state to be running around like this,” he added, gesturing to his several days old underwear.

You pulled your eyeliner pencil away from your eye just in time to laugh. “Think you’d give the old lady across the hall a heart attack,” you told him returning to finish lining the bottom of your eye.

“The one with the little white dog?” he asked.

You pulled the pencil away again to stare at him in the mirror, which he didn’t meet, then turned to look at him face-to-face. “How . . . when?” you asked. You were pretty sure he had never ran into her.

“Was walkin’ her dog this mornin’ when we were . . . busy on the couch,” he said flatly, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

You turned away to look at the pencil shaking in your hand. Oh god, no. How fucking embarrassing. You were able to cap it before you threw it into your makeup bag, giving up on finishing that last bit. You decided that you would make breakfast first and then face any of your neighbors that had seen or heard you and Simon for the past three days.

Simon had already left the room. He was pulling a hoodie from where it was doubled inside his coat. He pulled it on over his bare torso, zipping it up before he turned around, phone in his hand. The screen lit his face a cold blue, catching the hollows of his eyes in a macabre way as he stared at it blankly. You decided to not bother him, even as a pit twisted in your stomach, and headed into the kitchen.

You were almost done with the two cheese and spinach omelets when Simon leaned in the kitchen, phone still in hand.

“Your friends’ve been tryin’ t’ contact you. Let ‘em know you’re alive,” he said before clicking it shut.

You slid the omelets onto the waiting plates with a sigh. Simon took them off the counter for you. He sat down to eat, digging right in if you could guess from the fork scraping, while you went to the pocket of your jacket you wore on Friday night to find your abandoned phone. It felt weird that you hadn’t thought all this time to check it, totally absorbed with- You stopped yourself. You dug around and found it eventually. You were lucky it still had battery.

Your eyes widened when you opened your phone. 50 text messages. 10 missed calls. You groaned and wandered back to the table. You threw your phone down next to your cold coffee, deciding to eat before you got into it with your friends.

“Okay?” Simon asked, cutting into his half-finished omelet. Good god, that man could inhale the food. You were already out of eggs because of him.

“I don’t know,” you said breaking off a fluffy corner with your fork, steam, spinach and cheese running out. “I think my friends are overreacting a bit,” you said sliding your phone over to him as you took a bite. You’d done pretty good, if you could pat yourself on the back.

Simon tapped on your screen. A small chuckle escaping from his full mouth as he saw the amount of texts and calls. “Should still let’em know I didn’t kill you,” he said sliding it back to you.

Your eyebrows knit together as you looked at him. “Why-” was all you could get out.

“Soap,” he said stopping to scrape up the last bits of food from his plate, “n’ Gaz’ve been ridin’ my ass about it too.” He put his fork down on his plate, leaning back with a contented sigh. “‘s damn good, love.”

You opened your phone and mentally prepared yourself to open your messages. It felt better, having Simon here with you, for some reason. Only five or so texts were from your friend’s cousin, and they weren’t overly dramatic or pushy. Simple questions scattered over several hours and days. Where did you go? Are you alright? Will you call me back?

You other friend had gone fully nuclear. From early early on Saturday morning to a few hours ago she had sent batches of texts. WHERE ARE YOU????? ARE YOU DEAD? CALL ME NOW. IM CALLING THE POLICE. IF THAT GUY FUCKING HURT YOU I’LL KILL HIM AND HIS FRIENDS. That was followed by several unanswered calls. You covered your face as you scrolled through her one-sided argument she had with herself in your messages.

“I think my friend wants to murder you,” you said looking sheepishly over your phone. Simon shrugged as he sipped his coffee. You began to tap out a simple reply, just so she would know that, yes, you were alive and could chill out, when a call buzzed through. It was her. It scared you too much to pick up on the first ring, but you managed to hit the button with your shaking hands on the second.

“H-” was all you could breath out before your friend let loose in your ear.

“OH MY GOD,” she screamed. You thought you heard feet hit the floor somewhere behind her. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD FOR TWO DAYS. TWO. DAYS.”

“I’m okay!” you shouted, trying to get through to her.

“Where are you? Did that guy do anything to you?” you could hear her pacing around her apartment, her kitchen if you could guess by the tile under her feet.

“I’m at my place! Don’t worry!” you said with a huff. I’m an adult. I’m fine. Leave me alone, is what you really wanted to say.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked sternly. You could tell her jaw was clenched.

“No!” you said cutting another piece of your omelet, still very hungry. “I’m not hurt, or dead, or anything. I just want to eat my breakfast! Can I please do that?” you said trying to close the call.

She sighed on the other end. Another voice was talking in the background. The TV? “Okay,” she said, finally deflating her anger. You could hear she was still tapping her foot against the tile though. “But you call me back later, okay? When you can? I want to talk to you. Actually talk.”

You rolled your eyes, agreeing with her, tacking on a quick goodbye before hanging up. You set down your phone and tore into your food before it could go cold. Simon watched you while he sipped on his coffee.

“That went well,” he commented.

“Better than I expected,” you said stabbing at the last few broken chunks of egg. You sighed, tapping the tines of your fork on the plate before you just set it down. “I’ll run your clothes down.”

You managed to run into not one, not two, but three of your neighbors while you ran back and forth washing and drying Simon’s clothes. The college student who lived above you was switching over her wash when you first went down to the basement. She, thankfully, was too absorbed in her phone to notice the obvious men’s clothing you were throwing in the washing machine. The second was the man who lived behind you. He’s a nice guy in his 30’s or 40’s who you’ve talked to once the whole time you’ve lived here. You were walking up the stairs after switching over your load to the dryer while he was on his way down with his own full basket. He asked you if there was a machine open, which you told him there was before bolting to your door. The third, of course, was the old woman with the white dog across the hall. She was leaving with her dog for another walk when you came back with the laundry. She smiled and waved at you, which you returned while trying to keep from turning to dust at the thought of her getting an eye full of Simon fingering you through your open window.

You felt that the longest hour and a half of your life had passed by the time you came back with the cleaned and dried laundry. You just wanted to wrap yourself up in your blanket on the couch and try to forget you had work in the morning, but Simon had tasks for you. And, you remembered, you had promised him you would get everything done.

Not that he had been idle while you were out. Simon had done the cleaning and tidying you had pushed off all week: the blankets were folded on your couch, your shoes were put away in the front hall, your books had been restacked in the window. He was mopping when you came in the door with the laundry basket. He had picked you up in the hall, basket and all, and brought you over the wet part of the floor, sweetly setting you in your bedroom. You were surprised to see Simon had put the fresh set of sheets on the bed and made it up as well.

You sat down on the side of your freshly made bed to fold your clothes and tried not to stare at him while he dressed. He sat down at the foot of the bed when he was done. The space in between the two of you was filled with a pyramid of balled up socks, piles of underwear, and a growing stack of clothes to hang.

“Need help?” he asked, trying to sit casually. His fingers were tapping nervously on the inside of his knee. He really did need something to keep his mind busy. “Got everything else done.”

“Thanks for that,” you said folding a t shirt. You threw it on the t shirt pile after you were done. You looked over your bins of laundry and piles on your bed with a sigh. “Just this is left.”

“And it’s almost two,” he said looking at his phone for the time. Before you could say anything he had already put together a plan. “You fold,” he insisted. “Just show me where it all goes and I’ll put away.”

“I really should make a little lunch. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” The word late haunted you as soon as you said it. The clock was ticking ticking ticking now. Stop, you told yourself. You stood up and pulled out the top drawer of your dresser to show him what was inside. “This is underwear, socks, and . . . stuff,” you said floundering your hand at the miscellaneous tights and underthings you crammed in that drawer. “Just get started on that and I’ll make lunch.”

“Copy,” he said with a nod.

Lunch was nothing special. You gave Simon the last piece of reheated lasagna and you made a salad with whatever vegetables you had left in the fridge on top of what was left of your mixed greens. He had gotten most of the clothes put away in that drawer by the time you called him over. It was another silent meal. You both spent the time watching the rain pick up. The sun was falling fast behind the gray clouds. For every bit of light you lost, your heart sank.

Simon, of course, insisted on doing the dishes again when you finished. You went back to folding, finishing the bins before he got back. It felt like he had taken longer than before, but you couldn’t find a reason to care. He went right back to loading your socks into the drawer, holding near five pairs at a time in his hand while doing so. You could have stood there and stared at his hands for the rest of the afternoon, but you shook your head and got back to work. You busied yourself with hanging things in your wardrobe. You felt that maybe, if you mostly had your back turned to him, he wouldn’t distract you and you would slowly stop thinking about him. Then, when the time came, it would be easier.

“You read all those books you have in the window?” he asked while delicately layering your panties in the drawer.

“Ah, yeah,” you answered, staring at the inside of your wardrobe, unsure how much of a conversation he wanted to start. “It’s what I do in my freetime.”

“Read and cook,” he stated flatly.

“I know,” you said with a little laugh, “I have a very exciting life.”

“What’s the last one you read?” he asked, opening the next drawer. It was filled with t shirts and pj’s.

You bit your lip. “The one on top,” you said trying not to sound boring, because you knew exactly what you favorite book looked like: it’s black paperback cover beat and bent until the white paper underneath was showing through, it’s pages dog-eared, highlighted and re-highlighted, your own comments penciled in the margins.

“Meditations?” he said, surprising you that he remembered the title.

“Yeah, more like re-read, though. Not sure if that counts,” you said turning to collect the last armful of clothes to hang. Simon caught your eye as he closed the drawer. Amazing how he could pin you with his eyes even crouched on the floor. He stood up. It felt so weird to see him in clothes at this point. He felt so much bigger and taller.

“Suppose that’s up to you, book-reader,” he answered lightly ribbing you. His eyes were raking over you again. You turned around and quickly hung up what you had in your hands, not really caring if it was in the right spot. You just didn’t want him to see you blushing.

“Work’s done!” you said, trying to sound happy, as you turned back to face him.

Simon didn’t look happy. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, looking so much wider with the hoodie on. His face was hard and neutral, but there was a silent, dour energy to his eyes as they flicked from the floor to your face. He nodded, his head wandering to look over his shoulder to the door.

“Nothing left to do, and it’s gettin’ late,” he said, eyes still on the door. “Rainin’ too.”

You inhaled sharply. Oh. Oh no. Oh this was happening now.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly, heart beating hard, “I have-”

“Work in the morning?” he completed your sentence for you, shuffling his phone in his back pocket, looking behind himself. You nodded, watching him swallow hard.

“Early,” you whispered.

You felt your blood slow, pooling in your feet, pounding ominous and slow in your ears. No. This was not happening already. No, no, no, no, no- You concentrate on your fingernails digging into your palm and it breaks you out of your spiral. You watch your hand gesture for him to lead you out of the bedroom. It’s your arm, but not your action.

A gust of wind drove a spatter of rain against your window as you walk behind him through the living room. Darkness had fully fallen, the street lights pouring down their fuzzy yellow light once again. You keep it together while he kneels to lace up his boots. You couldn’t be messy and clingy right now, not after how well you’ve done all weekend. You can’t break down babbling about how much you love him and want him to stay, please stay if you want, please you’ve never felt like this about anyone else before and it makes you want to cry.

He stood there staring at you as he zipped up his jacket. It was a quick, sudden sound. Something that had sounded so much like an exciting new beginning, of taking off the layers that separated your warm skin from each other, of breaking down and rebuilding three days ago now sounds like only one thing: Finality. Packed up. Put away. Done.

You wondered if you should say something, anything as his hand closed around the doorknob, but you don’t.

“Bye,” he said with a nod, turning the handle.

“Bye,” you said back with a shiver. You wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth. As he stepped into the hallway you added, “Stay safe.”

He nodded again, not looking back, as your heavy metal door slammed closed behind him. You reached out on instinct to click it the last bit closed. You felt the vibrations in your hand as the outer door did the same. And with that, he was gone.

Gone.

You fell forward into the door, cold metal sending goosebumps up your arms. The cold shock as you press your forehead to the door temporarily keeps your tears at bay. You close your eyes as you let out a shaking breath. This is . . . fine. You’ll be okay, you lie to yourself. You let out the breath and open your eyes. You watch your tears spatter against the clean floor until your vision blurs.

You should feel pathetic as your knees hit the floor. You’re practically begging here, crying in front of your door, wishing and waiting for him to come back. You want him to walk back in the door, sweep you up in his strong arms, kissing away your tears and murmuring apology after apology. You cover your face as you let out a sob. You want to curl under the blankets on the couch with him. You want to chase him out of the kitchen while you cook again. You want to share the same stream of water in the shower. You don’t even try to wipe your tears away as you fall back against the wall, head thunking against the plaster. You just want to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, to the rhythm of his heart beat, warm and protected in his arms.

But that’s never going to happen again. He’s left. No number. Just gone. Just a name.

He’s gone.

a/n: WOW OKAY IM SORRY FOR MAKING IT SAD. I honestly had this all planned before . . . you know what happened ;_; Watch out for a poll about chapter three in a day or two!

#starry writes #mw2 #ghost/reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #yes i've made reader's life just so fucking sad take my computer away from me please

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parasytte · 1 year

Note

How would your oc's react to male reader saying he wants to have children

this request was made before elijah and casey came around so they arent in this !! they are talked about a little at the end tho

<3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3

august wells is very excited !! he already has it all planned out. the guys a hopeless romantic, and he dreams of a domestic life with you !

he's definitely dreamt of having kids with you before and he's given it a lot of thought. but you saying that you want to have children ?? he's over the moon with joy !

after freaking out for a bit, august calms down and starts to talk about this seriously, but he still has that big happy smile on his face. he goes over all of the different ways you guys can have children until you both decide on the best option for you both. (august defiantly hasn't spent hours researching different ways for you both to have children whatttt)

despite his father not being around, he had an amazing mama to learn from, so he'd be an amazing dad.

morgan hickks doesn't know how to feel. children ? with him ?

he's ... okay with kids, not the best but he's not the worst. he's had to take care of some of his younger siblings from time-to-time due to his not-so-great parents.

morgan's never really thought about having kids before, so you saying you want to have children really opened up a rabbit hole of thoughts and questions.

i can't really see him having kids. maybe when he's older, like in his 30s or 40s. morgan's a wild card when it comes to this.

jude myers is anxious, to say the least. don't get me wrong, he's incredibly happy that you love him so much that you want to have kids together, but he's just so anxious.

being a parent is a lot and that scares him, and you'll have to soothe his anxiety, but after a lot of talks with you i can see him wanting to become a dad, too.

jude would be a pretty good dad though ! albeit a very paranoid one, and he'd be a bit of pushover and give the kid whatever they want, so there would be times you'd have to step in and be stern, but jude would be very loving and he's determined to give his and yours child the loving family he never had.

<3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3 - <3

im on a writing roll today idk the cogs in my brain are turning for once yall best enjoy it !!! i was going to put casey and elijah in this but they're written in like a school setting so while theyd maybe like to have kids with you itd be later on in life

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whim-prone-pirate · 1 year

Text

WATCHING AND DREAMING LIVEBLOG ??????? UPDATING AS I WATCH☹️☹️☹️☹️

8:23 who up watching the end of phineas and ferb the mvoie rn

8:25 WHY ARE WE WATCHING AN EDIT OF THE SHOW BEFOFE THE EPISODE WHATS HAPPENING😭😭

8:26 ........archives WOAH SCARY FACE

8:27 oh my god color pallets i'm gonna be sick

8:28 LUMITY ANGST ???? IN HER DREAM ?????? WHAT THE FUCK ?1??1???1?

8:29 oh em gee not lilith's died hair again

8:29 FATHER CLAWTHORNE NO

8:29 EWWWEWEWEWEW☹️☹️☹️

8:30 please do not the luz

8:31 luz blames herself for flapjack💔💔💔💔

8:32 hehe face hold

8:34 REUNION !!!!!!!!

8:34 ray ray im going to kill myself

8:37 GET IT RAINE

8:39 not precariously stacked jenga!!! no !!!!!

8:40 I SAID THEY WOULD NEVER USE THEY/THEM FOR THE COLLECTOR IN CANON AND THEY DID IM SORRH I DOUBTED YOU DANA AND CREW IM SOREY

8:44 ok i got distracted with a different fandom thing where are they

8:46 collector playing grudgby is real

8:46 NOW THATS A SPIN-OFF I'D WATCH

8:47 oh no!!!!!!!!!!

8:48 bros participating in eugenics

8:48 "how'd he get here without a body" most normal toh problem

8:49 oh collector my bug😭😭😭

8:49 FUCKING HELL OH MY FUCKING GOD OH MY GOD HER HAT LUZ STOP IT !!!!!!!!!

8:50 kmskmskmskmskmskms

8:50 jaw on the floor she's dissipating

8:51 he csnt fix her😭😭😭😭😭😭

8:52 NO SHE ISNT !!!!! SHE IS NOT !!!!!!!!!!

8:52 oh😭😭😭😭😭 my😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 god😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

8:52 I SHOULD HAVE THANKED THEM

8:53 TITAN ????? HAII

8:53 I AM BOTH KING AND QUEEN BEST OF BOTH THINGS :o)

8:54 watching. and dreaming. watching ..

8:54 where did he get a bad girl coven shirt

8:54 this is what modern leftist political conversations sound like

8:55 it's giving lich

8:56 big fan !!!

8:56 what'd he say what's he SAY WE ONLY HAVE SO MUCH TIME HERE

8:56 CAMILAAAA !!!!

8:58 "please stop run away" * i am feeling burdened and i taste milk i mumble please please run away but it lives where i live

8:59 WHAAAAAAAT

8:59 SHE HAS FANGS SHE'S TOO COOL

9:00 did i miss something why are they mossydiseased like luz

9:01 i'm too tired for fight scenes rn

9:03 oh my god the titan's hand looks so cool

9:03 RAINE NOT BEINT ABLE TO SEE LMFAOOO

9:04 oh my god she put their glasses on for them

9:04 their hair looks so good🤭🤭

9:05 that fight was not as drawn out as it deserved to be but that is not dana + co's fault💔💔💔💔

9:06 collector💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

9:06 here's how gustholomule can still win

9:07 we have thirteen minutes for canon raeda and huntlow and gustholomule AND another lumity kiss. no pressure tho

9:07 oh god her look is so dark she's. wow

9:07 she doesn't have to be naive to the people who want to hurt her anymore. a win.

9:08 BYE TITAN ILYY

9:09 I LOAF YOU :)))))))))

9:09 so the next eleven minutes are domestic bliss????? yeah??????

9:10 steve moment!!

9:10 GUS AND DAD REUNITE !!!!

9:10 WILLOW AND DADS REUNITE !!!!!!!!!!

9:10 DARIUS ASKING ABOUT HIS SHIRT OH MY GOD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

9:11 bump cut your hair ..🙁

9:11 cute boscha moment sobs

9:11 darius protects the isles from absolute bitches and whores (real)

9:12 the guards!!

9:12 RAEDA CUDDLES

9:12 LUMITY KISS I TOLD YOU

9:12 NOCEDACLAWTHORNE HUG😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

9:13 see you in the stars bug😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

9:13 sorry i'm ruining my own like

9:13 SHE CANT USE HER GLYPHS ??????????????????????

9:14 oh my god what's happening

9:15 I KNEW HER NARRATION SOUNDED OLDER HER FIT IS SO GOOD

9:15 oh my god THEY LIVE IN THE HOUSE

9:15 willow short hair<3

9:16 flapjack.

9:16 lilith looks so good and matt's stache hasn't grown at all

9:16 AMITY ????????????? LOSES MY MIND

9:17 bump gardener era

9:17 coven removal so real

9:17 ok what was THAT little moment with aladarius

9:18 raeda is def married right like for sure i need to make sure i didn't miss a ring or anything

9:18 GUS LOOKS SO GOOOOOD

9:18 HEADMASTER EDALYN CLAWTHORNE

9:19 oh my god does she have a tattoo

9:19 SHE GETS A QUINCE OH MY FUCKING GODBOH MY FOD OH KY FOD

9:20 LIGHT. LIGHT GLYPH !!!!

9:20 SHE TOKD THEM THANK YOU☹️☹️☹️☹️

9:21 by.3😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

9:21 do you think she's gonna play one more song. she's. she's gonna come back— NO SHES GONNA COME BACK😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅 /ref

#watching and dreaming #the owl house #liveblog #wad liveblog #toh liveblog

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pagib1g · 1 year

Note

2, 5, and 8 in General and Domestic for the One And Only Lamar

[VINE BOOM] ok this is gonna be long so buckle up and sit down ye who enter also pep i wasnt sure which numbers for which set so im doing 2, 5, and 8 for both general and domestic

thank u peppy my beloved @bittersweet-n-smilin

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

imo theyve yet to have one but theyre at that point where its obvious they like each other. i like to think lamar would be more conscious about them and what they might like to do as opposed to seeing them as like, another hookup. the uncharacteristic hesitance would probably piss franklin off lol

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

let me check—

…good lord

(that's 5'2 and 6'7, for the record.)

id say their age difference is like, give or take four years (21 - my sona, 25 - lamar)

8. Who gets jealous easier?

lamar lol but its also a matter of who's more vocal about their jealousy. when he gets jealous he's very open about it. hed probably annoy franklin into helping him get the other person to back off or something but like other than that? i think hed mostly be pretty harmless. my sona is generally more Levelheaded about it but would probably have mad intrusive thoughts lmaoooo

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

lamar doesnt seem like a wedding OR a marriage kind of person tbh and while my sona would occasionally dream of having a nice, traditional ceremony it's not like it's a Huge requirement for them or a wish theyd die to fulfill so they wouldnt ask for a proposal. however. i think if they spent enough years together OR if he panics and thinks one of them could die soon, he WOULD pop the question (he could propose during a spontaneous shootout imo). theyd have a courthouse marriage as opposed to a traditional ceremony but i dont think itd be a solemn affair or anything. thered be some elements of a traditional wedding (theyd kiss in the courthouse). all of his friends are there (franklins the best man)

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

neither of them are particularly strict, but my sona would be the "firmer" parent. lamar is the "fun" dad whod teach their kid how to ride a bike, and my sona is the "lame" mom whos trying to make sure neither of them drive straight into a ditch. either way tho, one thing both of them ARE strict about is safety. lamar would believe their kid should toughen up, but not to the point of compromising the kid's safety. hed outright give his life for his family. my sona, on the other hand? theyre the quiet mom whos unexpectedly terrifying when its time to confront a particularly mean teacher or the parent of their kid's bully (lamar thinks its hot).

that being said, while not directly related to the question; it takes a village to raise a child, so lamars friends would probably be involved in helping raise the kid.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

1. everyone is there.

2. there is food.

all in all i think it would be a very packed gathering.

#thank u for asking pepsi my darling!!!!!!!#ship: tbn lamar ship #franswers :^)#ill add more tags later

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sunlightsshadow · 1 year

Text

Heal What Has Been Hurt Liveblog

hello and welcome to the first of 5 initial (but probably not Only) posts recounting my liveblogging of Heal What Has Been Hurt by @sunlitmcgee

ch1: and the universe said "I Love You"

c! tech did one (1) good thing and it was burning the egg

gogy mention/pos

its only ch1 and they've already gone DadMode. hasnt even even , talked to the boy yet/lh

XD :D

ch2:Flower Gleam and Glow

"weirdo mother hen guardian angel nanny thing." hehehe

moths moths moths moths moths

Clara :D

ch3: I've Been Ghosting Your Dreams

i wonder how tommy feels about warm rain

my browser crashed god dad is too powerful/j

ghostbur :DDD

oh i have so many feelings about ghobur

ch4:Come, My Child

not lots of thoughts just enjoying the domesticity of the bois

did enjoy the star freckles tho

ch5:Like A Busy Bee Taking Flight

"large purple man" thanos/neg

compass compass compass compass (im wearing my Your Tommy compass my bf bought me <3)

heheh dad said pogchamp

ch6:Flying Like a Bee, Black and Yellow Energy

hehe derivikat lyrics

xd dad god. why is that form even still in your rotation/lh

ranboo/pos. i love all Ranboos

hehehe time to sin!

c! techno/neg

xd having several children who are gods and can take care of themselves and having to focus your attention on the whole of creation is different than abandoning your litteral tiny children to go adventuring w a gladiator who hears voices

xd you could have shifted forms dont yell at them/lh

ch7:Cold. Why You Gotta Treat Me So Cold?

weird schlatt tubbo/neg nightmare tubbo/neg

GOD I hate exile

I am so emotional over them GODS

I need someone to be proud of me like xd is proud of tommy

I want a god dad. the yearning is strong

ch8: sweet like honey

any time someone writes tommy saying the phrase "ill be good" istg i feel my heart break

back sore, clue #1

micha 🥺

ch9: I Think You're All Insane

_beloved family/pos

PUFFY!!

every time i manage to forget the captain is dreams mom someone reminds me :/(/hj/nm/lh)

no more memory broke :D

am i using that emoji to much? i do not care<3

god enderman lore/pos

ch10: Deep In The Meadow

i also feel Okay. this is a good place to be

there is something so personal about tommy wanting to end the cycle of abuse and worrying he'll end up like the people who hurt him

good people have intrusive thoughts tommy:(

ch11:Here it's Safe, and Here it's Warm

hehehehe Wings also toms XD would never leave you :(

"you'll instinctively know" its not instincts if it hurts Philza

god i fucking love the personification of instincts. so much. its such a cool thing

ch12:Why, Tell Me, Father?

tommy has a perfect comfy bed and doesnt wanna move. mood

tommy is starting to heal and i love that for him/gen

how DID xd figure that out?

ive just decided just now while rereading that xd was too nice to phil

"you're still here" im gonna SOB

heal! emerald duo/neg

I wanna hug tommy :(

ch13:It's a Promise for Life Between Father and Child

what if i just [takes a white out pen to tommys trauma] look now hes just a lil guy! (someone do this to me)

[beats the doomsday bitches over the head with a stick] i will actually never be normal abt c!tommy

mmmm i should play omori

tinyboo. itty bitty

i dont wana read the interaction w technoooo [reads it anyways] its important

Ghobur! he back!

i think more people should let ghostbur get angry

ch14:How Would You Know?

idk how phil cant sense the Pissed Off aura xd must be giving off rn

in which xd is my spirit animal

:D(malicious)-XD

i like his hat :(

somebody please do this w my dad

ch15: Remember to be Patient

i am obsessed w instinct stuff. lil baby birb go peep peep

i was so lost in the euphoria of birb i forgot to have thoughts

ch16:Fold Up Your Wings, Close Your Eyes

WING TIME WING TIME WING TIME

"it's beautiful… except of course for the unholy screams"

xd " claws" and " adorable" are not generally words that go together

he is SAD the baby is SAD :(

what would xd do if tommy turned into an actual baby?

"its me?" AWWWW🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

hes a baby

i will kill any god for him

baby boy

precious

oh boo even *mentions* agere how did I miss that the first time? tommy is simply baby

ch17: See the Sunset

cant see glass<3

i want a cool space blanket (I have a non-binary flag space blanket tho :3)

I also like when things make click clack noises… am i birb?

I love hiiiiimmmmm

ch18:Nothing Could Tear Us Apart

they can both be clingy it's okay

i almost forgot to open my document when I started reading again

[wilbur voice] quackityyyyy

hes not even actually here but I'm lobe himb

hehehe lovey dovey qpps/pos

i adore my qpps and my bf

GOD i am not NORMAL about platonic soulmate clingyduo there is nothing normal abt my mind state towards them!

"You were worth more than L'manburg ever was…" grrrrrr growl hiss its so GOOD

more baby birb🥺

ch19:Come out and Play

is he a demigod now?

bird time again!

i love instinct shit have i mentioned that?/hj

baby baby boy/pos

i was reading this the first time and I was just like. hes so small

i fuckin love my comfort chara using my coping mechanisms

And with that it's back to reading<3

#cass speaks #dsmp #heal what has been hurt #c!benchtrio

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ofherlionheart · 2 years

Note

ok ok so according to ur boo chronicles timeline u dont have anything planned post talkin shit, so now i simply must know how izumi + zukka dads happens in the boo chronicles universe 👀

omg anything for u, beau. the chad to my ryan <3

there was actually a point in time when i considered making pt 6 abt izumi coming into their lives, but then decided i didn’t want to do that. izumi 100% eventually becomes part of boo ‘verse zukka’s lives, but ending boo chronicles on ‘they obtained a child!! look at that family unit!! dads being domestic!!’ seemed a bit. uh. less interesting to me. (the current ending i have planned is more compelling to me, narratively/structurally speaking. still tbd how exactly i get there tho lol)

but ANYWAY you’re not here for that you’re here for izumi!! ursa’s cousin gets pregnant but does not want the child. z happens to be visiting ursa around when the child is born; he goes with ursa to the hospital and hears everything abt the situation. feels some kind of way abt it … later when he’s talking to s on the phone abt it he realizes, sokka, i want to ask if i can adopt her. s: yeah, you should do that. z: … are you sure? we haven’t rly, like, talked abt kids that much. s: i’m sure

so z asks, the cousin says yes. z asks the baby’s name; cousin doesn’t want to name her. z’s like, i’ll wait just in case. i want you to know that this is for-sure what you want

for the next several weeks while z and ursa and ursa’s cousin are navigating baby stuff in thailand, s’s going into a research frenzy in his and z’s apartment. calls katara and suki and yue and hakoda and bato every few hours, freaking out because how can he be a good dad if he only has, like, a month to prepare?? he hasn’t done the spreadsheets he should have been preparing for this YEARS ago. his loved ones remind him he’s insane and help him thru dialing back the spreadsheets and the parenting resources he keeps rush-ordering. when he’s awake he’s definitely freaking the fuck out but almost every night he dreams of z being very gentle and warm with this soft little thing swaddled in his arms and s always wakes with a sense of excitement

the day before z’s going to fly back home, ursa coming with him, he asks the cousin one last time if she wants to name the baby; she says no. z tells ursa, i don’t know how to name her. i still kind of feel like i shouldn’t be the one to name her.

ursa looks at the newborn, who was just shitting and screaming and crying 20 mins ago but is now sleeping peacefully on her son’s chest. it feels like an out of body moment for her. how about izumi? ursa suggests.

izumi? z asks. isn’t that japanese?

ursa: it’s what i wanted to name azula.

z: why?

ursa: childbirth was painful the first time, and i didn’t want to go through it again. i’d already given your father a son. but one day, i took you to that fountain at the end of our street, and another mother had also taken her children to play in the water. her sons were maybe a year apart, with the younger about your age. and as i watched them play together, and i saw you watching them … in that moment, i wanted to give you a sibling more than i wanted to avoid that pain again.

z: oh.

when z and ursa finally arrive back in nyc, they reach an apartment that’s been baby-proofed to high hell and a bedroom that’s been rearranged to make space for the crib that s spent half a day building. s sees his hubby holding a tiny human like he has been in s’s dreams for a month, but this time it’s real. z’s got deep bags under his eyes but he smiles so genuinely anyway. ‘want to meet your daughter?’ he asks s. ‘her name’s izumi.’

#the boo chronicles #izumi means fountain/spring in japanese #ozai doesn't listen to ursa's name suggestion b/c he's an asswipe #included a bit about azula's name in boo pt 5 chapter 2 teehee #s echoes 'my daughter?' and promptly starts crying b/c in all this whirlwind of preparation he's been thinking of the baby as zuko's #z's like jfc im not letting you hold her while you're sobbing. you'll drop her #s is like im sorry i just didnt realize ive lowkey wanted a kid of my own this entire timebut then u just. said it #god they're sappy disasters ugh #this is why i dont wanna write a fic abt it LOL

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

If fanfictions were musicals, these are the songs I could see the reader insert singing to each of the Evans. I understand that this is cringy but cringe culture is dead, pls just let me enjoy my stupid little daydreams lol.

Warnings: Mild Language, Brief Mentions of Death (specifically su*cide and murder), Mentions of Cancer, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

The songs are linked at their titles!

Tate Langdon

I Dreamed A Dance from Next To Normal

Yes, I am aware that I am taking this song way out of context

No, I do not care. I’m looking at this from simply a lyrical point of view

It has all the sad ghost mommy issues vibes

Like, pre-teen me during my Aaron Tveit phase would have 100% associated this song with Tate

I’m sort of half and half on if Tate would actively try to get someone to die to be with him, which is why There’s A World isn’t included, but I can see someone head over heels in love with him considering death as an option to stay with him forever

This song just gives me the self indulgent fanfic vibes

“I'll wake alone tomorrow / The dream of our dance is through / But now until forever love / I’ll live to dance with you / I’ll dream my love / I’ll live my love / And I’ll die to dance with…”

Kit Walker

I Don’t Need A Roof from Big Fish

Kit Walker is too good for this world, just like Edward Bloom

The thought of him being traumatized and having nightmares after his time at Briarcliff? Heartbreaking. But him coming home after his cancer diagnosis? That hits even harder

That’s when I imagine this song would come into play

Sitting and watching him sleep while crying and singing this song

Because you can’t let him see that you’re terrified of losing him but you can’t pretend you’re not

Kit is one of the only Evan characters I can see having a healthy enough relationship for this song, and that hurts

“All I need is you and you forever / All I feel is true and absolute / I don’t need a legal deed to help me play my part / I don’t need a roof to hold my heart,”

Kyle Spencer

One Boy from Bye, Bye Birdie

A classic song for a classic boy

Pre-Death Kyle gives me very much high school sweetheart vibes

Like this is the golden retriever boy who would’ve given his girlfriend the pin off his letterman jacket

The song also kind of gives me foreshadowing feelings when it says “one boy to be with forever and ever,”

Like, you loved Kyle. You made him a promise to be there forever

But will you be able to keep that promise after his Frankenstein-style resurrection? Is he really still the same person, or has he changed enough that he isn’t the same Kyle he was before?

Mostly this song is just cute tho

“One boy, one steady boy / One boy to be with forever and ever / One boy / That’s the way it should be,”

Jimmy Darling

Somewhere That’s Green from Little Shop of Horrors

I have a whole lot of thoughts about this one!!!

Jimmy is attractive, like we can’t deny that, but he’s not really gonna be considered “marriage material” because of his job and his hands

The 50′s are ruthless like that

Imagine, though, realizing that he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your days with despite society’s ideals

Just dreaming of domestic life with Jimmy Darling, that’s the whole post

I know a reader insert would do it to escape the reality of their terrible life because I do it too and I’m a real person

Also, the specific thought of Jimmy doing his very best to be a good dad because of his experiences makes me soft

Also, you can probably think of Dandy as Orin in this scenario, because they’re both terrible assholes

“I’m his December bride / He’s father, he knows best / Our kids watch Howdy Doody / As the sun sets in the west / A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine,”

James Patrick March

It’s A Dangerous Game and Take Me As I Am from Jekyll and Hyde

Okay, I know this is kind of cheating but this is my post, so lets pretend it’s not

Relationships with JPM are usually portrayed as extremely balanced and loving with both parters holding pretty equal standing or extremely dark and controlling with James holding full control in the relationship.

These songs fall into each dynamic respectively

It’s A Dangerous Game is that filthy, controlling roll-in-the-sheets song you just need sometimes

It’s also delving into the literal danger

Like, Mr. March is the most prolific serial killer ever. He’s a massive sadist. Being near him while also being alive is a massive risk.

But it’s a sexy risk

Take Me As I Am is the complete opposite vibe while still talking about the exact same dude.

It’s still a duet, but this one is even, measured, romantic... and all about accepting a criminally insane fiance for all his peculiarities! Perfect!

This is the song where JPM talks about how much he loves his wife lol

Because he might be a psycho, but he absolutely respects and cherishes his wife

“No one speaks, not one word / All the words are in our eyes / Silence speaks, loud and clear / All the words we want to hear,”

“Give me your hand, give me your heart / Swear to me we’ll never part / You know who I am / This is who I am / Take me as I am,”

Kai Anderson

As Long As He Needs Me from Oliver

I hate Kai Anderson with a burning passion

But this song belongs to anyone who he manipulates into loving and trusting him

It’s just so sad

And it really encapsulates the idea of doing anything for the person you love even if you get less than nothing in return

It’s not healthy in any sense of the word, but it fits

“He doesn’t say the things he should / He acts the way he thinks he should / But all the same, I’ll play this game / His way,”

Peter Maximoff

You’re The One That I Want from Grease

Who could forget the classic scene in Grease when Danny and Sandy dance through that weird fun house? Definitely not me.

This is another holdover from my Aaron Tveit phase because Grease Live was a masterpiece (it was very difficult to not include more songs he performed, because Evan gives me Aaron vibes)

I picked this song less because of the actual content, and more because of the vibe

Like, imagine Peter Maximoff learning all the choreography from the movie in his spare time

And he shows off by whipping out the whole ass dance routine with you during karaoke night at X-Mansion complete with leather pants for the both of you

Peter might even let you borrow his jacket as a prop, who knows

It’s just a fun little ditty and it makes me smile

“You better shape up, cause I need a man / And my heart is set on you / You better shape up, you better understand / To my heart, I must be true,”

BONUS CONTENT: Peter Maximoff would sing you One Knight from Wonderland 100% it is just so him please go listen to it

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kuekyuuq · 3 years

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Gloria, Jet-lags and Imps [6x11]

Let’s jump right in:

Kinda love how Kara lamp-shaded addressed the fact she didn't tell the gang about her adventures in the PZ. She’s not wrong, tho.

...what do I want to say about Mxy using what's basically a well-known gay-anthem to tell his tale? I mean, it didn’t lead anywhere. The original song is about freeing oneself, liberation, stepping out of a (gone bad) relationship and moving on, stronger for it - empowerment. The only connection I could make, is that originally it was Nyxly’s aim to just do that (freeing herself and her kind from an oppressor), but in the way Mxy performed it, that part of the parallel was long over before he even reached the chorus. It’s also a popular Karaoke song, tho, so... he chose it because it’s catchy? I’ll try not to overthink it for now. At least, the Superfriend’s reactions were fun.

Nia exiting the elevator, "And what's this Old Stone?" I love it when ppl enter a room / situation and pick up on words that they couldn't have possibly heard. I think cinema sins ding such... Are we to assume, she dreamed Mxy's rendition of ‘I will survive’? Or is the elevator not sound-proof at all? (If it’s the latter, Nia later apparently telling Brainy “in private” between scenes / during the elevator ride about her Nyxly adventures, was a silly thing to do.)

So, "Jared" created the ring Old Stone to rule them all, it got shattered into the Paragons totems? Nyxly needs the totems and to get them she needs a crystal which also belonged to "Jared" - who happens to be Mxy's ancestor, which is why she needs Mxy / his blood, too.

I have one important and incredibly relevant question here, tho...

With the introduced imps and their names... Why’s dude named Jared of all things?!

Really, did I mishear that? If so, I’ll leave it as is and never edit, bc that would be hilarious in its own right 😋

...

Not sure what to make about Supergirl paraphrasing a Dirty Dancing quote. "Nobody puts Mxy into a power crystal on my watch." ...is he Baby now? (Seriously, though: Which of the writers thought that was a fitting quote to use in that particular context?)

...now, is the exposition section of the episode over yet?

Sensitive Brainy sensed something was up with Nia. He can relate... Nia doubting Kara would understand, too, is ridiculous. But I get it... insecurities and all. But, I mean, just 5 minutes later Kara announces she wants to save Nyxly despite her wrongdoings. And yet Nia still remains convinced, Kara wouldn’t forgive her own personal mini-me... After having witnessed Kara forgiving Lena for a whole season of the writers being stupid messing up to the nth degree. But I digress, Lena’s Lena.

...how old is Nia meant to be again? Just asking out of completely unrelated curiosity.

F*ck. They really went with NewFoundland...

Imma assume it was an executive choice after realizing they couldn’t find enough actors and actresses with a convincing Irish accent... maybe. Again, no offense to Newfoundland! Just... we got the insinuations of Ireland, not Newfoundland... And truthfully, when I think of magic, Ireland is an easy association. Whereas I only due to this whole debacle learned Newfoundland has Irish ancestry. So, okay, the show forced me to learn something new... I give ‘em that.

An easy journey, she said.

Lena's been off-screen for two whole episodes, Kara announcing at the beginning of ‘Dreamweaver’ [6x09] Lena being “back east” (at least insinuating Lena’s left the west-coast already), which span over at least one full day (feat. a scene at night), and ‘I still rise’ [6x10] at least another a whole day (the whole Nia’s mom back for a day deal). And, now, after at least 48 hours she barely just arrived.

Lemme check how long a regular plane would need to fly from California to NFL......... ... .. .. So... approx. 10 hours with at least one layover.

Yeah, using a private jet made it easier, but apparently also much, much slower...

Or, Lena randomly went some other places / did some sight-seeing in NFL before she decided to finally visit her mother’s hometown... [Either that or the timelines don’t match up and Lena’s scenes are flashbacks of sorts.]

Optimistic and relaxed Lena is a sight to behold. I rewound 3 times, just to enjoy it for as long as possible. We all knew it was going to be short-lived...

Let’s check off a few more items...

OMG, Kara hiding behind Alex at the mere sight of the PZ-projector broke my heart! 😢

"Elisabeth Walsh" is the new 'the one you shall not name'. ...poor Lena. 😭

Oh, so Mxy wants to be Patrick Swayze instead of Baby... gotcha.

...is this going anywhere?

KITTY!!! Okay, this must be the best opponent in the history of CWSG.

Despite the horrible CGI, SG using her heat-vision to project a laser-beam to distract the cat had me in (happy-) tears! 🤣

Gotta love the civilians of National City quickly returning to business as usual once the giant cat is gone. Even the police officers looked rather chill...

Nyxly did look fabulous this episode ^^

Andrea being Lena's rock is both great and annoying. I can't fault Andrea. It's just, that we still have to see an on-screen interaction between Lena and Kara and that bugs the heck out of me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Andrea.

Nia: "...is my fault." Kara: "Nu, is MY fault!" J'onn: "Stop fighting, kids!" Space-dad has spoken.

Mxy used an LuthorCorp copy machine... and of cos it's faulty. It's not an L-Corp product.

Kara forgiving Nia came as a surprise to her... Oooookay. I mean, the show has been writing Kara a bit inconsistently the past two seasons... so, yeah, maybe being unsure which of her traits apply this week was not such a far stretch...

Maybe it's the hair, but I wished, Florence was played by Alex Kingston.

So, not-Alex-Kingston shows Lena herself with a funny wig and tells her how her mother was still watching her...

If it wasn't for Katie's acting skills (I love her.) I would have already hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Something about these scenes had me constantly cringe and I made it through 5.5 seasons of this show already... Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was highly distracting from the story that explained Lena’s mom was special even to another witch, where there was domestic abuse, and an accidental murder. Y’know, important stuff, deep-cutting stuff!

At least, poor widddle Lena got some closure there. Elisabeth was a good cookie. And filled with magic. And Lena’s gotta have that ‘spark’, too...

....so... Lena’s gonna stay in NFL for how much longer, to train becoming a witch? Please, just hand her a how-to manual and send her back home, to figure it out on her own, please... (Yes, that would be horrible decision-making, but I need her back with the team!)

On to the finish line:

So... Mxy IS Nyxly's brother? Wait, that doesn’t sound right... then Nyxly would have the same blood... Did I miss something? Can someone explain, please? Or is he her ex, and that’s where his rendition of “I will survive” makes sense?

Hnn... I can't help, but think Kara's speech for Nyxly was 85% based on her experiences with Lena in s05.

Awww... he said "stronger together"... Mxy... I hope, you'll be okay!

Lena believes in magic now. And I absolutely love how Lena wants to science magic XD

...but apparently magic isn’t science that hasn’t been explained yet, but parallel... powers? concepts? ether strings?

Nyxly has a loyal henchman now. Which was a bit heavy-handed. Took way too much of screen-time, so it better leads to something interesting.

And Kara is on a warpath now. Wooooot! Girl’s got enough.

...what else?

Did I miss a third Patrick Swayze hint / quote / mention? I learned, these things come in threes... Y’know, basic writing rules...

I guess, for once the episode title was meant to be taken literally, Mxy popping up between characters, to try and help. (I need in-show footage, of Mxy sneaking up on ppl, without his powers, on all fours / crouched, just to get the desired effect.) I mean, I’ve never really watched Malcom, but wasn’t he like what Mxy usually is? A bit of a trouble-maker, prankster, chaos-ensuing wherever he goes? ...well, in that case, the episode title didn’t hold up, as Mxy’s scenes were not fun or really goofy. Yes, there was some superficial humor, but just to serve Mxy dealing with not being able to use his powers, which in turn was only barely scratched at (although it turned out to be his final character development crisis, appreciating not having powers and - in turn - facing consequences for once). Again, a whole lot going on in the episode, so a lot of that may have ended up on the cutting-room floor.

...where’s Kelly? Secretly adopting a kid, maybe?

...Kara’s still a reporter, right? I mean, whenever it serves the immediate plot, yes? ...Not even a throw-away line, that she has to pop up at CatCo for appearances sake? Since Andrea is already upset with her AND looking into her friends’ identities? At least, Kara should take a peek to make sure Andrea hasn’t uncovered anything yet... No?

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Kue out.

#Supergirl #supercorp #Mxy in the middle #6x11 #mxy #nyxly #lena luthor #magic #lena's mom #fiction dissected #fandom #episode #Nia nal #dreamer #brainy #brainia

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hongism · 3 years

Text

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

#kpopscape #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez fluff #ateez angst #yunho x hongjoong #hongjoong x yunho #ateez oneshot #ateez ff #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #hongjoong angst #hongjoong fluff #yunho angst #yunho fluff #yunho oneshot #hongjoong oneshot

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saintobio · 3 years

Note

HWJSJEJDQHHQ I'M A MESS RN 😭 MAI MY BELOVED CAMEO & toji has my heart already plsss imagine if mc decided to push thru with the clothing line bc of toji and mai's undying support that would be so cute!!! i hope we could see them more because mc deserves to be surrounded by nice and genuine people too 😌 ps: fawk u gojo 😋💓

Anonymous said

I'm so engrossed in this fic that I genuinely felt the sheer happiness when Toji wanted to talk more about our interests. I kept on thinking that there might be some ulterior motive that's leading the convo but as soon as he widened his eyes and smiled when we shot him w that "forgot you were pushing 40" just made me feel so comforted idek 😭 until a fucking grumpy furby came in and ruined it all 😭 I love how we did that "u see this fucking face? He's satan :D" with gojo though, it felt good ⛈

Anonymous said

toji i am in love with you ‼️ yn leave gojo pls (for now)🙏 and now we seeing some of gojo’s inner turmoil too 👀 he tryna ignore how he starting to feel

just to let you know you’re literally my favorite author on this app bc my lord the amount of DEVELOPMENT we’ve already seen in five chapters, and the way every single character has so much depth. please never stop writing 😭 please take care of yourself too 🙏 you gotta publish a book or something and you can’t do that if you don’t take time for yourself ‼️ thank you for all your efforts and incredible talent 🥰

Anonymous said

Ok so I’m 99% sure Y/N is gonna die at the end and this makes me so sad ):

After this chapter I just want her to get closer to Toji and get the happy ever after she deserves with him and they raise Megumi together. Periodt.

Anonymous said

Yooo this was wild. I’m all for Y/N just packing it up and being w/ Toji. He’s a fine ass dilf who cares about her and her well-being beyond her money and status. But I think that it’s really funny that Sera seems to focus only on what Gojo can do for her in terms of the materialistic sense rather than emotional. So far, he’s only been seen giving her things rather than true affection (Although that could just be because we don’t see both of their POVs that often). Not to mention the fact that Gojo doesn’t seem to love her enough to give up his money and status for her 🙃. Anyway, Gojo and his hoeish ass can go be with his beloved Sera. At this point, I’m shipping Y/N x Toji until further notice.

Anonymous said

ZENIN TOJI COME TAKE YN AWAY TO VENICE'S WEDDING!!!!!!!! DAMN TOJI I LOVE YOU WTF😭🖐️ I LOVE AI-SAN MORE THO😻 LET'S GO RUN AWAY WITH OUR BLESSINGS NAMED MEGUMI, PAPI🧚‍♀️✨ LIVE THAT SOFT DOMESTIC LIFE YOU ALL DESERVE!!!😘🥰🧚‍♀️✨

also.... YN seemed to be... Sick.....

- 🌸anon

Anonymous said

AAAAAAAAAAAAA GODDAMNIT yn does NOT deserve to be treated like this 😭😭 i’m glad she found a friend in Toji, but i’m begging you to give Yn more friends she can rely on 😭😭

Anonymous said

I love love love this series, your writing is beautiful I am in tears.

All I want is for YN to stop caring and Gojo to finally notice exactly how great she is, like everyone else sees.

BUT I hope it’ll be too late because she will already be Tojis. YN will be designing her wedding dress and she will be Megumis new step mom, and she’ll finally be loved softly. Her dad sucks, fuck his business.

@seashellmichellee said

ngl if I were y/n I’d fucking leave Gojo for Toji WLDJAK like???? I stan a gentleman and someone who genuinely cares 😫

Anonymous said

another great but heartbreaking update :”) canon toji is a lil uhh sus BUT SN!Toji is a sweetheart !! Imagine yn discovering what true love is really like w toji :(( he appreciates n loves her sm that he supports her dreams of being a fashion designer !! Toji eases her insecurities AND IS AN AFTERCARE KING, yn builds her own brand outside of her family while gojo and sera end up in the streets where they belong <33 in all honesty we’re in for more angst before any fluff bc you’re the author LOL

Anonymous said

the way toji & y/n need to get together... gojo gotta look at them and be like oh fuck i messed up 💔 anyways toji+mc supremacy <3 thank you for putting it in my fav character! the way you wrote toji & mc’s interactions was SO good and so soft! you can tell toji warmed up to mc and was willing to literally protect her... he could cherish her so much better than gojo ever could 😭😭😭 can’t wait for the next chapter! you always keep us on our toes ILY for that 💗

i am loving the toji brainrot you guys !! i’m glad you liked his introduction <33 i also enjoyed writing the zen’ins i just love them sm ?? :’) i hope toji lessened the angst for this chapter bc we are all fuming at gojo until further notice 😤

#saintobio.asks #series: sincerely not

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barryallenisravenclaw · 3 years

Text

This whole show they've been trying to show how Dean is similar to John (doesn't talk feelings, focus on the job, puts family before self)

when he's actually way more like Mary (caretaker role, craves domesticity and getting out of hunting, has literally died to save Sam (tho John did that too for Dean ig))

They even paralleled him to Ellen a little (when he had that dream of opening a hunter bar)

But with the end of the show, I realized something. They ended up making Dean more like Bobby than either of his biological parents.

Bobby wanted kids but was scared to have kids of his own because of what an abusive ass his own dad was to him and his mom. Dean clearly wanted kids as evidenced by every interaction he had with one, but something never shown on screen caused him to lash out at Jack for the possibility. Still, Bobby half adopted Sam and Dean and the boys all adopted Jack.

Bobby was an alcoholic, far more so than we ever saw John drinking. Dean is also quite clearly dependent on alcohol in tough times and we see them berating each other about this various times throughout the show.

Bobby himself sacrificed for Dean when he started using a wheelchair. Dean sacrifices his well-being for family constantly.

The way Bobby views himself is similar to Dean, too. A large part of Bobby's mental health issues are centered around the idea that he's a grumpy old coot who could never be of use to anyone so he might as well yell at anyone who comes close and do the only thing he's good for in his old age- help other hunters from his home base. Bobby also has a mountain of regrets that we see in his death episode including, but not limited to, his perceived guilt in "failing" other hunters and getting them or their loved ones killed. Dean definitely has that same guilt riding in his head, but if we take out the age-related terms my first point also reflects Dean's state of mind. Dean doesn't view himself in any form of positive light, largely seeing himself as just another grunt for the hunter army who will one day inevitably die for the cause

(Which is why I hated the finale so much)

But if we ignore the finale and think about where it should have gone, where it appeared to be going, we see more similarities there too.

Bobby became a hunter when his wife Karen died from demon possession and he was so bereft that he never remarried. Dean's most significant other, Cas, died due to a supernatural entity, too. Dean was so upset each time Cas died that we saw a marked decrease in his flirting and one night stands until it all but disappeared as he (we assume) finally realized what his true feelings were. Cas's final on-screen death left Dean once again with no purpose but to continue to hunt and one day die for the cause as he always expected.

But (no offense Jackles) Dean isn't as young as he used to be. If we move ahead five years (again, ignoring the finale), ten, fifteen, the only way for Dean to continue to hunt would be to become the new Bobby. This is even a concept which has been brought up by other characters Garth within the show, proving that it's not only possible, but highly probable that without some other motivation or drive in life, Bobby is exactly what Dean was going to become.

TL;DR Bobby is what Dean would have become if he had lived past the finale without Cas. We know that Bobby was depressed, suicidal for a time, and therefore living that exact life in that exact way is not something the audience should cheer for. Instead, we should see him being a happy version of Bobby, someone who can do what Bobby did but alongside a man he loves and therefore living a life he enjoys.

THAT SAID:

I think Sam has a much stronger connection to being the "new Bobby" and Dean should have legit retired in a small town with his husband Cas and they all lived a long happy life.

Pretty much everything I listed about Dean's similarities to Bobby can be said for Sam too, just with less development for the "happy Bobby" idea because they didn't develop Sam/Eileen enough on camera.

EILEEN SHOULD HAVE HAD SO MUCH MORE SCREEN TIME!!!

Edit: FUCK and Ellen is a widow, too, all grumpy and shit since her husband died and protective as hell about their kid! Dean does That Too!

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finnoky · 3 years

Note

AU where Quirin takes and raises Eugene after the DK falls

•| Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts |•

Oh you have no idea how much this enables me - I stand by Quirin raising Eugene until the end of time bc it’s what they BOTH deserve

1) Oki so, here we see Eugene taken away as a baby without disclosing an EXACT location — that will not stop Quirin though, who had a stance against cutting him off completely despite it being Edmunds orders [It made sense to send the boy away but to send him to an ORPHANAGE was another story] Quirin finds Eugene a month or so after they get separated, during that time he found a house and a stable farm to raise a kid on [Gotta have an income] and then promptly goes to the orphanage and adopts Eugene.

By then, Eugene’s name has already been changed and frankly... Quirin thinks it suits him, though he occasionally slips up and calls him Horace. He feels a duty to raise the Prince but also kinda has a “My son now” mentality! Disagrees with Edmunds choices + decides... His kingdom is doomed, so he’s gonna ensure Eugene gets a stable upbringing with KNOWLEDGE of the Dark Kingdom without necessarily telling him “Oh BTW you’re the prince”. Being a father is hard and he struggles a lot, esp in early days, it’s a whole new challenge from being a knight but... Not one he really regrets?

Cue some fluff! Knight-dad trying to raise a baby and establish a life in a new country — Over time he grows and becomes Village Leader + Develops a bond with the monarchs based on his knowledge and previous high-rank in society from being a knight! Gets offered a guard position but turns it down in favour of spending time with his toddler son. Eugenes first word is Dada and Quirins never felt so content. Baby fluff of Eugenes milestones — Quirin has Eugene helping on the fields as soon as he can toddle without tripping (tho it’s mostly Eugene playing and running around while Quirin works) Toddler Eugene is a little darling and knows exactly how to use his cuteness to get praise and sweets

2) Eugene starts thievery / acting out soon after Quirin dates and marries Ulla, though it soon become a hobby he usually indulges in with his friend Arnie [though they take on the names of the coolest book characters Flynn Rider and Lance Strongbow!] Quirin thinks it’s just a phase and leans into the whole calling Eugene ‘Flynn’ because... He really loves the books, that’s not too odd? Though he doesn’t know of crimes + just thinks they go out to play a lot. Eugene ignored Ulla for the first few weeks because he doesn’t like the idea of someone new staying around — He doesn’t hate her, it just raises a lot of questions about his mum that Quirin doesn’t know how to answer... He resolved on the explaination that she was very sick and couldn’t take care of him anymore, though loved him dearly — it’s enough to placate him.

Eugene doubles down on stealing when he’s 10 and suddenly there’s gonna be a new baby in the house. [He doesn’t WANT a sibling + worries Quirin will love the baby more than him since he knows he’s adopted & all that though is too scared to ask] Eugene grows an attitude and Quirin finds himself exhausted and constantly caught in petty bickers as Eugene keeps running away + acting up, especially to his wife (Who loves Eugene very much, of course) ‘Flynn’ declares he wants to travel the world and be far away from step-mums and nasty babies, uhhh Domestic fall out stuff?

Things change when baby gets here and suddenly Eugene is a big brother and Quirin is MORE distracted, sometimes they forget to even read him a story and he can’t stand the squirmy little creature... All it does is cry and take what little attention his misbehaviour had earned him... So naturally, petty crime continues + Eugene starts caring less about getting caught, so it becomes more risky. He and Lance befriend some bad influences and start taking Big Kid Crime. It’s fun! Until Eugene is brought home by a guard and Quirin gives him the silent treatment for the next week. Quirin... He loves his sons, both of them, but he just isn’t sure how to handle a distressed 11 year old and a baby, it feels like there’s not enough hours in the day and Eugene is SET on making life harder for everyone.

Eugene stays against ‘Varian’, frequently makes the baby the villain in his games and makes him cry on several occasions. It gets even worse when he starts crawling bc now he can’t get anytime alone, it’s just frustrating! The solution probably comes when Varians starting to talk and he says ‘Oo-gee’ as one of his first words — ‘Lisa’s first word’ style — and Quirin and Ulla admit that Varian is obsessed with Eugene. It’s sorta a wake up call for Eugene to start trying to get along with the kid, and it works! He finds it fun to teach him things & have someone to talk to (even if he just babbles back) By the time Eugene is 12 he’s calling Ulla mum and love spending time with his little brother

3) Right! When Eugene is about 18 he picks up theiving again, mostly because he isn’t suited to the farm life and it’s easy money (Plus how else is he gonna achieve his dream of financial independence?) He moves out the farm under the guise of finding a new life with his best friend, though they quickly realise it’s not amazing when they get tangled up with the Baron + his antics. Eugene visits home every so often and claims everything is fine, it’s going great, he doesn’t need any extra help + his life is just dandy. His dishonesty mostly bc he doesn’t wanna worry Quirin and there’s been a bit of a strain since Ulla passed away.

Life keeps on like this. Eugene ages, steals alchemy supplies for Varian and hides his true income source because he wants to make Quirin and Varian proud! Varian grows up to be more headstrong in what he wants because he has someone standing up for him and telling him he’s proud, though the longer Eugene spends away the harder it gets? He loves it when Eugenes here! But the house feels empty without him, and Quirin is so busy + stressed from Varians experiments that there’s still that desire to do more, prove himself.

4) Movie diverts a bit! Eugene finds out about the hair glow and thinks... If one person knows about this then it’s him, and takes Rapunzel to Old Corona over night rather than a campfire. Varian is ecstatic to see him though gets confused by a random girl Eugene claims to have just found — He’s about to ask questions when Eugene asks if Varian could do his magic thing to find out about her hair. Varian insists it’s alchemy and agrees, dragging Raps down into the lab! Boop gothel talks to her when Varians gathering all the equipment and talks her ear off about how cool Eugene is and asks how they found each other since the story is weird... Experiements start!

Meanwhile Eugene is talking to Quirin, when Quirin pulls out a wanted poster and puts it on the table. He finally found out about how bad Eugenes crimes are and wants answers. Now. Eugene sits and tries to explain its not what it looks like, but Quirin doesn’t wanna hear it. The disappointment is evident and Quirin criticises “I thought you grew out of this, what role model is this for Varian?” Eugene doesn’t have an answer but argues his case that it was to be reliant — and he doesn’t wanna do it anymore anyway! Quirin accuses him of using the girl, while Eugene insists her name is Rapunzel and he’s just helping her, get the crown, be set for life and never have to bother him again.

Their argument is cut short by a Varian coming back upstairs looking frazzled, says there’s something about the magic that’s familiar but he can’t place it — sure is strong tho, and continues gushing and asking Eugene for all the details of what he’s been up to. Eugene... Explains, his usual light-hearted rendition of a great quest, while Quirin leaves and stays upstairs the rest of the night.

Varian sees them off in the morning! Hours after they’re gone Vari is still looking into the magic thing — that’s when he remembers the old legend about a sundrop... about how it saved the Queen... About the Princess. Varian sneaks out the house and heads up to the lantern festival to tell Eugene and Rapunzel his revelation, but he gets there just as Eugene is being lead away by guards. Varian finds Max and tells him how they need to free Eugene + basically... Helps him escape with fewer pub thugs and more alchemy. When they get to the tower Eugene tells Varian to stay on the floor and climbs up to help Raps - Varian stays at the bottom of the tower for approx 10 minutes before finding the back entrance and climbing up. Figure he gets there just as Gothel deages, it’s suddenly and before anyone knows it Varian is the one pushing her out the window bc he saw a stabbed Eugene and put two and two together. Then! Cue New Dream scene, except Varian is sitting on the floor in shock a distance away... After New Dream hug Eugene looks at him and Varian admits that “Ok, magic isn’t that bad”

5) Oh god the series! First off — Raps is closer with Varian in this (that’s becoming a theme...) so doesn’t just throw him out into the blizzard when he comes asking for help. Instead he and Eugene go back to Old Corona together after the storm, Varian isolates himself from guilt + has a tough time dealing with what happened, but he lives in the castle as Eugene starts getting angrier with the king and wants answers for what happened. He’s the one that finds Dark Kingdom stuff and he and Varian work on it together... Eugene has a suspicion he came from the Dark Kingdom so when the rocks start pointing there he’s like dope!

No villain Varian joins them on the trek to the Dark Kingdom + it’s all fun and games, Eugene tries to get more answers from Adira as they travel but she says it’s not her place to say... All he needs to know is the kingdom fell, and everyone was evacuated... She’s almost annoyed as she explains it, then Hector is treble annoyed when he finds out Eugene was raised by QUIRIN since that went against the direct orders... Though Adira defends it and says he was doing his duty of keeping Eugene safe, it’s basically a rift between them that’s confusing until they get to the DK and the revelation happens.

I feel... Moongene could be a thing in this AU? but since I’m running out of points I’ll leave it with Cass taking her canon role! I will point out! when Quirin is freed initially only Varian runs into his arms... Eugene hadn’t really spoken to Quirin properly since their movie fallout & he’s not sure he belongs... Until Quirin holds and arm out to him and pulls him into the hug too (PARALLLELS) and we get a happy reunited family (tho with some issues to work out regarding somethings... they need to rebuild trust, but work on it slowly. Edmund stays ‘Edmund’ to Eugene. He sees Quirin as his father & doesn’t push as much to reconnect with Edmund... Though that makes it easier in a way. There’s less pressure once Edmund understands and they form a friendship, but Quirin is Dad 100% (Sometimes Edmund gets called Dad 2))

#tts #tts au #ask #au ask meme #tangled the series #tangled #varian #Eugene #quirin #alternative universe

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hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

Interview

BB: welcome back everyone! So good to see you all here today! We're back for a 3rd time here on BB Channel! Like before we're joined by the lil cuties of Ed and Mari. But this time their parents have come to join!

Rex: hello...

Quetz: Hola!

BB: that wasn't a very strong greeting Rex!

Rex: I'm tired right now. Can't this wait?

BB: time waits for no one and neither does BB!

Mari: already this is super annoying! *sigh* so why'd you decide to bring them into this anyways?

BB: the people who follow this blog need to see how they're doing so long after Chaldea too! You two have had the spotlight for a while, so now you should share.

Ed: I mean... guess that's fair.

Mari: should anyone be dealing with this?

Rex: I'd rather not be here either.

BB: aaaww, don't be like that! This will be fun!

Quetz: that's a very hard sell BB.

BB: just humor me at least.

Rex: ...fine

Quetz: what are we even doing anyways?

BB: some of your interdimensional buds have sent in questions about how you guys are doing, and I'm here to get those answers for them!

Quetz: that actually sounds nice...

BB: what'd I tell ya!?

Rex: yeah yeah, pls get started.

BB: fine. First few are from my precious bombardier beetle! First one she asks: do you have any pets?

Mari: oof! Do we!

Rex: currently we have four dogs: 1 German Shepherd named King, a Pitbull named Sparks, a Dogo Argentino named Duke, and a Corgi named Marshmallow.

Quetz: but also we have a habit of adopting older dogs who aren't likely to get a home because of their age or rescues to give them a nice place to stay.

BB: aaawww, well ain't that wholesome?

Mari: we also have mom's bigass pterosaur!

BB: less wholesome. Next one from my dear yellowjacket: favorite foods?

Rex: PIZZA!

Mari: CAKE!

BB: whoa! Pump the brakes you two! No need to get too excited!

Quetz: ...honestly? I don't really have a favorite food. Just a bunch I like to eat and some I don't. If I had to choose, I'd say chocolate.

Ed: I'm a steak man myself.

BB: 2 sweets, and 2 savories. Next up! Who wakes up earliest?

Rex: Quetz

Ed and Mari: Mom

Quetz: ...I guess it's me... hehehe.

BB: honestly I'm not surprised. She's so damn athletic and even used to be a professional.

BB: next! Where do you all like to go for vacations and such?

Ed: mom and dad have a vacation home in Alaska.

BB: Alaska?! Why?

Mari: when warm weather is the norm for you it's nice to go to the cold to change things up.

Rex: yeah, it's actually very nice. Not too many people and beautiful nature sights.

BB: well to each their own. Another from my dear antlion: how long does it take to pick a movie or TV show to watch?

Quetz: hehehe, we're all so indecisive it takes ages to pick. It's not uncommon for us to give up after taking so long.

BB: you should work on that. This next one's interesting. My precious army ant also suggests a round of common household jobs and the like from each member.

Rex: hmmm

BB: she gave an example of like, who does the cooking?

Quetz: well it's both me and mi amor in that case. The kids aren't very creative.

Ed: hey! We're plenty creative!

Mari: no we're not, don't lie.

Rex: we only really ask that the kids clean their rooms and any messes they make. We handle most everything else.

BB: they should really show some independence tho. Can't coddle them forever.

BB: in the next one, Cadence asks about a house tour and if there's a jacuzzi.

Quetz: a house tour feels like it should be it's own thing.

Rex: yeah, but we do have a jacuzzi dude, so don't worry.

BB: next one's from Reen: she asks what would life be if you weren't in chaldea,

Rex: y'mean like now? I mean... it's a relatively normalish domestic life? With less work tho.

Quetz: si, I've made plenty from my lucha career before retirement we don't have to worry about money much. But mi amof still makes money just in case.

BB: well after that she asks: how was your life before and after meeting each other?

Rex: ...kinda sad. Aside from chaldea and saving the world, I was kinda just... stagnant. Go to work, go home and so on. Not much to my life before then.

Quetz: ...honestly, for me it was the same. After the age of Gods ended we didn't do much of anything. We mostly watched over humanity, I've been summoned in modern day before but that was rare and infrequent.

Rex: ...after I met Quetz tho... I dunno things felt... better? She kinda forced her way into my life after I summoned her and... I was more then ok to accept her... before long we had something beautiful...

Quetz: aww, mi amor! I'm so happy to hear that!

BB: ain't that sweet? Like me and my dear centipede. Final one from Reen: if you could build a dream home then where? (Can be in fantasy)

Rex: I mean... where we are now is good.

Mari: yeah, right at the border of a huge rainforest in the Yucatan sounds fine.

Ed: but what about the fantasy bit?

Quetz: hmmm... we don't really look at fantasy much. But maybe a castle of some kind?

Rex: or a Mayan temple? But with electricity and Wi-Fi.

BB: that's fair. Need those memes in your life. Now some from Kaz! First she asks: what kind of gifts do you give each other?

Rex: uuhh, well I like getting mi corazon custom things. Like some personal clothes, or even a portrait of the two of us.

Quetz: ehehehe, I like to spoil mi amor with extravagant things! Golden treasure and the like!

Mari: concerning...

BB: next, how would you spend the day if it's raining outside?

Rex: I actually enjoy rainy weather, so I like to chill near a window or even on the porch listening to the rain.

Mari: it's very soothing.

BB: how quaint. Last one from Kaz: whose good at cooking and baking?

Quetz: hehehe, that'd be me. Tho it might be considered cheating since I use my goddess power to help.

Mari: well no one else is the greatest normally so it's fine.

BB: a good 'ol better then nothing kinda attitude! Now we're back to Cadence but with more relaxed questions: what's the current house look like?

Rex: ....big.

Mari: like three stories tall with a DEEP basement.

Ed: like... 5 rooms too many.

Quetz: we also have an indoor pool.

Rex: the outside looks almost gothic, but partially taken over by nature.

BB: all this near a rainforest?

Quetz: si! Despite the size, all the nearby trees still tower over it.

BB: nature can get scary. I've seen worse and have been worse but still. Another one: how do family events function? Any specific holidays?

Quetz: ...most family events are just us... going somewhere nice to eat nice food...

Rex: do they mean bringing extended family? My family lives too far to visit often

Quetz: ...and I'd rather not speak of mine... things have gotten rocky as of late.

Mari: right, well for holidays we celebrate most standard one, like Easter and valentine's and such. For October we kinda try to combine Halloween and Day of the dead.

Ed: but Christmas is the most important for us! Mom and Dad always make the biggest celebrations for Christmas!

BB: gotta love the holidays! Especially when your mom is santa... still weird to say that. Next one! Any plans for the future?

Rex: eh... not really? I mean I want to prepare Maria to continue the family magecraft, since Ed has no interest.

Mari: someone has to continue on this lost practice.

BB: good to know it won't be lost to time like we thought. Next one! Daily life?

Rex: I wake up, eat, work on magecraft, spend family time, spend time with Quetz, go to bed.

Quetz: I wake up, workout, eat, workout, spend time with mi familia, lovely time with mi amor and then I sleep.

Ed: I wake up, take a walk, eat, practice soccer, spend family time, sleep.

Mari: sleep, sleep again, dragged to breakfast by mom, eat, eat again, mess with magecraft, eat, sit with everyone else, scroll thru my phone for hours, sleep.

Quetz: *sigh* mija, you need to change your priorities.

Mari: mmmmm... No.

BB: bad habits there Mari. Next they'd like to know if your in contact with anyone from chaldea? Other then me!

Rex: here's a real quick list: Marie, Mash, Kiara, Penth, Astraea, Martha, Ishtar, Gorgon, Jalter, The twins, your kids BB, etc etc.

Quetz: too many to list...

BB: nice you haven't lost contact! Next! About that Wedding?

Rex: well... it was eventful to say the least. Not long after completing the china LB. Most of the servants were invited, and most of Quetz's family showed up.

Quetz: si, Martha officiated it for us. Most of my family were so nice at the time... too bad that hasn't lasted.

Rex: let's not mention that...

BB: it was such a nice wedding! You two were so "nervous" you had trouble with your vows! How adorable!

Mari: why the quotes?

BB: no reason... now we're at the home stretch! Good 'ol Ash has some for stuff that technically hasn't happened yet, but you should still be able to answer! What responsibilities will Rex take on when he joins the pantheon?

Quetz: ...well he'll be largely a guardian of life on earth. Authority over things like the jungle itself, volcanos, and even snow... for some reason.

Rex: well it still snows in mexico... occasionally.

Quetz: and we'll be sharing authority over Venus! I wanted to share it with mi amor!

BB: cute! Hmmm, not sure if you cananswer this one just yet? Adjusting to God hood?

Rex: well I got to try it out a bit. Summoning lava and snow is... interesting. But also... my mind felt... odd... but also clearer? Not sure how to put it...

BB: I'm sure when you get there you'll get it... took me a bit after servant fest. And how did the other divinities react?

BB: actually I have some recordings of that to answer, so play the clip!

A screen appears showing recordings of some servants, one at a time.

Ishtar: eh! She's turning you into a god!? ...I guess you've earned it master...

Eresh: what!? Can you do that?! ...guess I won't see you in Kur... then again I don't think you have any link to Kur anyways.

Kama: do you really think your cut out for it? I mean... if it's just for you two to be together then I guess it's fine.

Astraea: godhood is a very big responsibility master. Are you certain you're up to it? Saving humanity is also a big task but at least that has an end point. This is... eternal.

Qin: oh! So you have decided to go for immortality after all?! Tho not the same as my methods, it is still good to see you two will be happy together!

Scathach: immortality? I've strived for death for so long... to see you go for immortality... Hopefully you'll find happiness, where I couldn't...

The screen turns off.

BB: very interesting! Most seem hesitant of it all... I for one think it's cute! Imagine in a thousand years you guys have a double date with me and my dear stag beetle!

Rex: ...a thousand years...

Quetz: still having trouble processing it all?

Rex: yeah... maybe when I get there... it'll be easier.

BB: now for today's final one! A scenario! One of you two goes berserk! What does the other do to calm them down?

Rex: well that has happened before... usually a nice hug is more then good enough.

Quetz: si! I've almost destroyed a few servants a few times until mi amor caught me in a hug! I can't bring myself to harm him... so I stop!

BB: sounds too easy... but I've seen that before so... I'll let it slide.

BB: well that's all the time we have for now! Hopefully you all are satisfied by the answers! We'll be doing this again, seeya!

Screen cuts out, the show's over.

Questions provided by: @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong @renmeo @kazmetic @grievouslyxorvia

Other tags

@haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasabbydoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #rexcoatl #mastersona #rex #bb #maria #eduardo

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jcpostsobsessions · 4 years

Text

As my current obsession The King: Eternal Monarch comes to a close, I want to do a review of the drama with some things I’ve been thinking about. This is all random and coming out as I reflect.

—

OST that makes me think of the drama: Gravity by Kim Jong Wan. One of my favorite songs from the drama and when it comes on it suddenly brings me back to some pretty epic moments.

Favorite OST: Orbit by Hwasa. This song was and is on repeat throughout the drama for me. Although it wasn’t played alot towards the middle and last half of the drama, it’s still superior.

OST I Didn’t Really Listen To: I Fall In Love, A Quiet Night and My Day Is Full Of You. Nothing against these songs, they’re all nice and I am listening to one or two of them since the dreams ended, but it didn’t grab my attention as the other songs.

Favorite Lee Eul scenes: Gon feeding Tae Eul and her joking about sneaking out touched the domestic side of me and I am living for it. Honorable moment is the neck kiss. I’ve never seen a neck kiss or a kiss this intimate in a drama before. I know he did something similar in another drama, but for me this is the first. I just love how perfectly placed it was. Tae Eul literally gave him her neck to do this. And I researched that neck kissed are pretty intimate and initiates a pretty intimate follow up. Now if Gon was trying to say something, I’m sure we understood and so did Tae Eul.

Favorite Kiss: The final kiss. The reason I like it a lot is because of how natural it is. Gon leaning down, smiles, Tae Eul leaning in and Gon swoops in. His lips pucker up to meet Tae Eul’s and the height difference is super cute even though she’s sitting on the table. They follow up with more kisses and the happiness on their face is what nails it for me. Honorable mention is the bedroom kiss.

Funniest Moment: When Gon prepared leaves in case they get stuck in “that time period”. Tae Eul’s face 😂

Favorite Side Ship: Eun Sup and Yeong. They are both so hilarious and off the bat had so much chemistry. They were definitely a side ship that I was invested and interested in. Their final scene together was their parting and it got me emotional because Yeong broke down his wall and gave Eun Sup a hug which says a lot about his stoic demeanor.

Favorite Ending Scene: Oh man. I remember watching this episode and it did not have the main couple together because they were parted for obvious reasons. I remember Tae Eul having a hell of a night and then everything happened so fast. Gon rode in on his horse, blood shed, tears fell, hearts broken, glasses shattered, epic soundtrack, announcement of future Queen and of course epic hug. And then it was out, next episode. I remember grabbing my phone and shouting noooo. I was on the edge of my seat and the final reunion of the two finally happened and the ending credits rolled in. This was an epic ending scene.

Favorite Lee Gon Outfit: It’s the simple black look and overcoat, but the material and the way he fit the form, I just really like it. Also he did some pretty bada$$ things in this outfit. So I find myself always thinking about this look. Some honorable mention is the iconic diamond fit, simple white and black vest (when he takes the overcoat off; it looks extra handsome) and then the light colored fit during his dates with Tae Eul.

Favorite Jung Tae Eul Outfit: Tae Eul’s fashion sense is simple and comfy. She is often wearing baggy and loose jeans, one color tone sweater and a long jacket. My favorite would be this look because she adds a bit of sophisticated with her dress white and black turtleneck.

Most WTF moment: When Lee Lim killed his doppelgänger self after going back to try and warn him. I was so surprised how fast he beheaded himself.

Underrated Character: Shin Jae. He is the other only character where I was in invested in his story. Kim Kyung Nam did a great job acting the pain and angst of his conflict with his mom. It really brought his character out.

Characters I did not care for: Lee Lim and Prime Minsiter Seo Ryeong. They both did were the anatagonist, but honestly did not impress me. I was never quite sure what Lee Lim was actually plotting and he just kept bringing people over and killing people. Sure he had the upper hand in some cases, but honestly his greed and lack of planning is what killed him. Idk what he was doing for the last 70 years or so. As for Prime Minister Seo Ryeong, nothing impressive about her. Although the only time she was tolerable was in the new timeline in the final episode where she was in jail and Luna came to visit her because it looks like they’re sisters now. They interaction was sweet and familial bickering.

Character I didn’t expect: Luna. I was looking forward to her character and how she’ll play into the storyline especially with how the cast members spoke about her during interviews. And honestly at one point I felt like she was one of the only one who shook Lee Lim’s core which was super entertaining to watch while it lasted. I liked how peeved he was by her and she just went about her way, unbothered. I also realized how the writer was creating Luna’s character to be good and bad. She poisoned Gon, stabbed Tae Eul, but didn’t kill her father, didn’t stab Tae Eul enough to kill her even though it looked like she did. Tae Eul trusted her enough to let her go and be with her own dad. Luna’s story is still a mystery.

Biggest Twist: when Gon realized that Shin Jae was actually from his world and said he was Shin Jae’s King. 🤯

Favorite Lee Eul Hug: This one. No need to explain. 💯

Relationship that surprised me: Luna and Seo Ryeong in the new reality. I really enjoyed their “sister” dynamic in episode 16 where Luna had a name change and became a cop and Seo Ryeong was unfortunately in jail, but their interaction even tho they both pretended not to be close, they were. It was funny and the best performance from Jung Eun Chae. Quite honestly I feel bad about where her character eventually ended. Her greed got the worse out of her.

Favorite Side Character: Yeong. I really like his character with his side glances/ glares at Tae Eul and his love and dedication to Gon. I’m glad he kept his promise to himself to protecting Gon. Also Woo Do Hwan did a great job playing two characters.

Plot I am still confused about: the little boy with the yo-yo. I wasn’t quite sure how he fitted into the entire drama. He definitely peaked my interest and he was obviously traveling back and forth, but I feel like his story never connected to the main plot. Honorable mention was Park Jiyoung, the pregnant woman. Like what was the point of crossing her over?

Character Death: Prince Lee Jong In, I had a feeling he’d died but also didn’t expect it. Honorable mention is Seo Ryeong’s mom. She was collateral damage. When Seo Ryeong called to ask her mom what she had for dinner a code for her doppelgänger, and she answered jajangmyeon, the chills.

BONUS!

Favorite Product Placement: CHICKEN! Man I can’t tell you how bad I wanted korean fried chicken because of the drama. LMH ate this at every chance he got and he made me crave it. They did a great job selling it to me. 😅 Honorable mention is the coffee drink that everyone dranked and man when they shot that scene where Yeong had to throw the drink to Shin Jae and still had to show the product name, lmao the commitment. 🤣

Worse Product Placement aka the one that was painfully noticeable: Okay; almost all were in our faces, but the painful was the one where Tae Eul was using the Kahi lipstick/cheek/moisturizer all in one stick. 🤣 when she explained the product to Jang Mi during a stake out I nearly passed out from secondhand embarrassment. And honorable mention is the CELLRETURN LED mask although when Eun Sup used it to be iron man that was cute.

—

Overall rating: 8.5/10. There were some choppy moments here and there and some loose ends and characters that I didn’t quite understand or had to really think about it. But it was never enough to say this was a bad drama. In fact it’s been a while I was this invested in a drama where I had to come up with theories and such. Not a lot of drama makes me do that. As a fan of BTS, theories comes as second nature 😅.

There were some moments that happened off screen and later on we’ll realized something had happen prior which at the beginning was hard to decipher, but once I realized the drama was doing that, I enjoyed it because sometimes it’ll be a pleasant surprise. I love how the drama hardly opened up each episode with how it last ended, they always gave us a backstory/content prior.

I think Gon and Tae Eul’s character had growth and progression, especially Tae Eul who had to unpack a lot of herself. The more the drama went on the more we got to see different sides of her which peeled some layers she built up as a detective and some described her as cold. I think with all that she went through definitely shaped her quite a bit. And Gon I felt started off the show strong. He had strong morals, grasped things quite fast, but was also caring, strong headed, dependable and responded rather than reacted. Of course he has his moments of being childish and playful, but it never strayed him from being off or uncharacter like. I think Tae Eul describes it perfectly in one of the episode that he knows when to joke despite a traumatic childhood. She is simply saying he’s grown into a decent man who doesn’t let a past define him, he lives it fully and that comes off in all his actions throughout the entire drama.

As for the other characters, I am glad we got to see Shin Jae’s character development as well. I’ve said it before, but he was one where I felt the writer went deeper into his story. Yeong would be the second, although he remains a mystery even until the end. I never quite understood where he stood except that fact that he deeply cares and loves his King, and in what context, only he would know. The writer has written strong second leads before and sometimes even third leads, but I would say wasn’t her best, but again it’s not so bad where you would say the drama was a complete failure or unbearable to watch.

And finally I can’t wrap up without saying something about the cinematography. Because man there were some beautiful shots, some CG works and some transitions or angles that really came into play to make the drama what it was. I don’t have it, but one of my favorite is when Gon is poisoned and falls down and it transitions to his younger self, that was breathtaking. An example of the angles and transitions is below and it was dramatic and the camera got to play with all its angles. All this for a dramatic handshake and of course my favorite soundtrack adds to the flare.

#the king eternal monarch #lee min ho #kim go eun #lee gon #jung tae eul #kim kyung nam #woo do hwan #jung eun chae #lee jungjin #korean drama #drama review #recap #finally writing all this up

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