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poisonedapples · 3 years

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Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students.

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door.

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

147 notes · View notes

colossalcriminal · 3 years

Text

Uptown Girl - s.r

Pairing: 40s!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: 25 year old Steve Rogers finds himself infatuated with the well off 18 year old girl who gets Howard Stark coffee.

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol consumption and character death. Not proofread and bad writing.

He'd seen her around plenty, hell, he knew her. Almost always gliding through the streets in the most beautiful designer dresses, sometimes with another girl, arms clad in shopping bags from some of the greatest fashion houses. She also had a knack for wearing trousers that accentuated her legs, always receiving a flustered reaction from the men around her.

It was no doubt she was stunning, perhaps the prettiest girl he'd ever seen in his short 24 years of living. Bucky had always teased him relentlessly, encouraging his best friend to 'snatch her up before someone else does.'

It was a regular occurrence for him to be saved in an alleyway by the sergeant, especially when Steve Rogers didn't know when to back down, or how to. It was only when he showed Steve the newspaper he noticed her figure further down the alley, puffs of smoke leaving her lips.

Steve Rogers found it hard to understand how someone as beautiful as her could commit to an ugly act such as smoking. He was ashamed to admit that the nasty habit hadn't once dwindled his infatuation towards her. "Hey, Y/N!" Bucky called out, gaining her attention. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Y/N sauntered over to the men with her signature dazzling smile, lips painted in the most ravishing shade of red that'd printed onto the cigarette that rested between her fingers. "Howard's got me off early." She gasped, instantly putting the cigarette out. "Sorry, Steve. I almost forgot I shouldn't light one around you."

Steve's smile reeked with nerves. "It's okay." He stuttered.

"So, he's Howard now?" Bucky nudged her.

She rolled her eyes, resting a hand on her hip. "Put a cap on it, Barnes. Anyways, where are you boys off to?"

"Your boss' expo." He displayed the paper to her, pointing to the large ad.

With a small nod, her attention was back on the skinny boy. "Picking me up, Steve?"

Waking up from his day dream, finally in the headspace to speak to the magnificent woman before him, his nod was quick. "Huh? Oh, yes. Definitely."

"I'll see you later tonight at 6pm sharp, then. Bye." She grinned at the blonde, waving as she proceeded to walk away.

"Bye, Y/N." His reply was too quiet to hear as she was too far away, but the butterflies in his stomach didn't care for that. Sighing at Bucky's light chuckles, he shook his head, mentally scolding himself for the awkward interaction.

"At least you got a date."

"Yeah," He whispered to himself, almost impressed. "at least I got a date."

6:01pm his watch read as he stood before the house - mansion - nervous creeping up the back of his spine, the large house looming over him as if he were in a nightmare.

And it was the exact time she popped her head out of her bedroom window signaling to Steve. "Just wait a minute! Dad's home, so I have to escape!" She whisper-yelled.

He'd gotten a glance of her frock. His heart pounding at the view of her hair curled into perfect ringlets, makeup even more accentuating than it was earlier that day. He watched her disappear, before quietly slipping through the front door and making her way to him. "Sorry, he doesn't like me being out in the evening."

"Well, I can understand with a beautiful dame like you, sorry woman, not dame. Young woman."

Y/N giggled at his ramble. "You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" Steve smiled bashfully at her lightheartedness. "It's alright, not like I'm anyone important."

He cocked his head inquisitively. "And what do you mean by that?"

Sighing, she looped her arm through his, an action that sent his vision loopy as he inwardly cheered. "I mean, I'm just a girl with big dreams who spends daddy's money and gets coffee for Howard Stark. Nothing big."

Steve maintained his unfazed exterior, resisting the urge to stare down at their linked arms. "Tell me about these big dreams."

"I want to be a scientist, well, more of a techy one like Howard is. The idea of flying cars within a few years is so, invigorating!" She beamed. "Don't you think?"

He smiled at her, nodding. "Well, I hope you'll be around to fly our first car, considering you're so insistent on enlisting."

"Bucky thinks I can't do it, that's why they keep rejecting me."

Y/N hummed, lips curling into a small pout. "I think you could do it," He perked up at this. "you could. But just because you can, doesn't mean you should, Steve."

Before he could respond, they'd already been greeted and called over from afar by Bucky.

Y/N didn't let herself feel too downhearted when Stark's flying car show failed, but she did find herself frowning when she followed Steve to the recruitment booth.

She pulled him towards her, Bucky not far off. "Come on, soldier." She joked. "Take me dancing."

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Guilt had presented itself to Steve on a silver platter when he saw her shoulders drop. "You're really going to do this again?" Bucky deadpanned, unimpressed.

"I'll leave you guys to talk it out. Meet me there?" The blonde nodded, missing her small wave as she departed.

An hour and 49 minutes later she found herself walking home alone, rubbing her arms in an attempt to abandon any feeling of cold, or even worse, loneliness.

It was 2 days later when Steve finally caught her leaving her office, cigarette in hand. He couldn't help it when he gazed at the pearl earrings she wore, framing her face so perfectly, accompanied by the stray hairs that'd escaped her updo.

"Y/N!"

His voice had only expanded her annoyance as she watched the smoke exit her mouth, ignoring his calls. "Go away, Rogers."

He panted, finally catching up to her. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"What for? The fact that you ditched me on our date or that you went radio silent for 2 days?"

He pursed his lips, closing his eyes in regret. "Please, let me take you out again before I start training?"

Y/N let out a dry chuckle. "Congrats." She put out her cigarette, still mindful of the blond's asthma. "That's not the point, Steve. I wanted to go out with you because I like you! Because you're different! But it turns out I was wrong. So, good luck in training, I'm sure you'll do great. If you're alive by the end of the war, come find me."

"Please, Y/N. I really, really like you."

She'd already began walking away. "You should've thought about that before you asked to get yourself killed."

Without much thought, Steve reached forward, wrapping his fingers around her wrist as soft as possible, the surprise on her face echoed onto his own. "And what if I don't die?"

Scoffing, she shook her head. "You sound so certain."

"Because I am."

"I will not wait for you to come home and receive a letter explaining your death instead."

"Deal."

With a peculiar brow, Y/N sighed. "Where are we going then, Mr. Rogers?"

His lips spread into a beautiful grin. "Anywhere you want, Ms. L/N."

They'd spent 3 full days together before Steve began training.

The first day was spent at and around the theatre, watching as many movies as possible and eating as much popcorn as one can.

The second day, he made it up to her by taking her dancing. Y/N took the time to teach him how to waltz, giggling every time he stepped on her shoes.

The third day was spent at his home, alone. Away from the crowded atmosphere of her house, she taught him how to cook the simplest of dishes, making sure he knew how to feed himself incase no one else did.

It was hard for her not to get teary eyed as Y/N layed her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face daintily. Steve leaned into the soft touch, corners of his mouth tugging downwards. "So, I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, it is." He whispered, eyes staring into hers with utmost intensity, a false reality in his head tricking him into believing he wouldn't have to leave her if their eyes never broke contact.

"You better make it back to me, Rogers."

"Of course I will, Y/N."

The grief had already sunk in her, the feeling in her belly so overwhelming, heart fluttering violently as she pulled him to her, lips touching so softly. Steve didn't freeze like he thought he would- he didn't have time to freeze. He did his best, pulling her closer and kissing him back with the most confidence he could muster.

Y/N's smile was almost minuscule when they pulled away, hands moving down to grip onto his uniform, her head in a lovesick daze. "How could I not make it back to you?"

"Well, I am your best girl."

He quirked an eyebrow. "My only girl."

"We'll see about that when you come home a war hero. All the ladies would drop down to your feet."

"All the women in the world and I'd still choose you."

Returning home, she closed the front door quietly, making her way to the living room to find her father engrossed in the small tv box. "Hi." She spoke quietly, hoping not to disturb him as she kissed his cheek, hoping to walk away.

"Sit." Y/N's father offered her the seat next to him, never taking his eyes off the program as she sunk into the sofa, her frock filling out around her. "Lowell's been talking a lot."

She stiffened slightly, subconsciously crossing her legs and straightening her shoulders. "Oh, you know not to listen to Lowell. All he does is gossip. Him and his wife, vultures they are."

"He tells me you've been spending a lot of time with Sarah's boy, Steve."

"Yes, I have. He just recently went off to train."

He finally looked at her. "You scared?"

"A little."

"Then it's a mistake."

Y/N's face was blank as she fiddled with her fingernails and stared off into the distance. "I know."

Her father shook his head. "Then you'll know to break it off."

"No, I won't." He looked perplexed at her reply. "Because it may be a mistake now, he may die any day, but at least I'd gotten the chance to be with him."

He only huffed, muttering something along the lines of "Childish."

She decided to change the subject, not wanting the conversation to sour even more. "Where's Eliza?"

"She's out."

"What are we watching?"

"The Mark of Zorro."

"Can we watch something else? Sullivan's Travels is on."

"No."

"I'll be in my room then."

"Fine."

She stood, getting one last glimpse of her father. "You know daddy, I do love him. And who knows? Maybe he'll survive. Maybe we'll get married and live a happily ever after. If that does happen, I hope you'll be happy for me."

She knew they were selecting the 'lucky' one to be titled 'super soldier.' She'd been working alongside Howard, the older man curious of her expertise for an 18 year old but nonetheless grateful for her help.

Y/N certainly didn't expect Steve to walk through the doors of the laboratory, accompanied by Peggy Carter. "Jesus Christ, Steve." She gasped, embracing him.

He wrapped his arms around her, concern growing when the smallest patch of tears had formed on his t-shirt. He watched as she pulled away. "Hi." Steve greeted.

"Oh, hi." She chuckled through tears. "I'm sorry, go talk to Erskine and we'll chat later." His hands lingered on her, before he slowly nodded, doing as told.

Minutes later, her fear only grew as he layed down in what she called the pod. "Comfortable?" She queried.

"It's a little big." He commented. Y/N graced him with her smile, a real, but concerned smile. "Maybe we could get dinner later?"

"Alright, loverboy. One thing at a time." She teased. "Howard, what are our levels?"

"Levels at 100%."

"I have to say something," He almost begged. "I think I'm in love with you."

Chuckling, she held his face in her hands. "I think I'm in love with you, too, Steve." Blowing him a kiss, she waved her love goodbye before leaving to stand beside Howard. "We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we'll ever be."

She just barely missed Steve's terrified, longing glance that had remained on her back as she worked diligently, how the cold metal around him sent shivers down his spine, aching for the warmth of her touch.

Erskine began his speech into the microphone. "but we are ready as we'll ever be. today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace. We begin with a series of microinjections into the subject's major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays. Serum infusion beginning in five, four, three, two, one."

Hesitating the slightest bit, Y/N pulled the lever, eyes tearing at Steve's small grunts as each small vial emptied itself. Howard pulled his own lever, elevating the pod into a standing form, closing the blonde in. "Steven? Can you hear me?"

"It's probably too late to go to the bathroom now, right?"

She couldn't help but smile at his witty answer. "We will proceed."

"10%."

"20%."

"30."

"That's 40%."

"Vital signs are normal."

"That's 50%."

"60."

"70."

The beam emitting from the pod became too bright for the eye, the sound of Steve's groans had morphed into pained screams, shattering Y/N's heart with every yell. "Shut it down! Kill the reactor, Howard!"

"No!" He protested. "Don't! I can do this!"

Howard looked at her with a sense of sympathy. "Eighty."

"Ninety."

"That's 100%."

Sparks had erupted throughout the machinery, surges of light blinding them until it had died down, everything and everyone dead silent. Within seconds, the pod had opened, revealing a brand new Steve Rogers.

Y/N cried in relief, instantly running to tend to him, helping him out of the device. "You did it, sweetheart."

"I did it."

"Yes, you did. How do you feel?"

He panted, surveying his surroundings before looking down at her. "Taller."

She barely took a minute to lock her gaze onto the newly formed muscles on his body.

With a giggle, she handed him a shirt. "You look taller." He grinned, using his newfound strength to pick her up, a loud squeal leaving her painted lips.

A loud explosion went off, the glass pane that guarded the viewing room had shattered onto the people congratulating Erskine below. Erskine had fallen to the ground after multiple gunshots, Steve making his way to the scientist while Y/N had continued shooting at the perpetrator as he escaped, soon running after him.

Running out onto the street, she caught her breath, deathly stare on the car that had her target. She shot once, no luck. Once again, the vehicle had swerved, colliding with a parked car nearby.

Kruger had gotten into a different car, accelerating at full speed towards the young woman, challenging her as she raised her gun once again.

No impact or gunshot ever occurred as Steve had pulled her out of the way, leaving her on the sidewalk. "I had him!"

"Sorry!" He ran, leaving her to pursue Kruger himself.

After Y/N had helped Steve save the men of the 107th, the pair had received a few weeks of reprieve in the beautiful city of London.

Steve admired her as she applied the black pigment onto her eyes with utmost accuracy, the trousers and blouse she wore complimenting her in such marvelous ways he couldn't comprehend. He got up from where he stood, taking long strides towards her, placing a hand on her waist and smiling when his reflection came into view on her vanity mirror. "Hi."

"Hello." She giggled, leaning into him. "Enjoying the view?"

He nodded, swiftly turning her to face him. His grin had dropped into a sly smile as he let go of her, ignoring her inquisitive looks as he dropped down, one knee hitting the carpeted floor. Pulling out a small box, she gasped instantly. "The ring isn't expensive, or lavish." He started, displaying the solitaire diamond ring.

"Oh my god, Steve."

"I love you, Y/N. I want to grow old with you, and share my life with you. I want to have a future with you, and I want it to start now. Right here in this obnoxiously rainy place," They both laughed. "will you marry me?"

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, nodding with clouded eyes filled with tears. "Oh, of course I'll marry you, Steve." She pulled him up, smushing his face against her own into a kiss, the pair of them smiling into it. "I wouldn't want anything else."

Steve wasn't lying when he said he wanted to start now, within 5 days he stood at the end of a chapel with Bucky by his side as best man and Y/N in a pearly white frock and a makeshift veil bought at the nearest corner shop.

It didn't matter that the dress was picked out last minute, or that the veil was advertised to be a gag gift. Nothing could rival the grins on the couples' faces when they said "I do." rings slipping onto their fingers and lips joining in a moment of utter bliss.

It was later that night when Y/N crawled out of bed, slipping on Steve's blazer to shield her bare body from the cold air seeping into the bedroom through the open window. Sitting at the desk, pen in hand, she sucked in a deep breath.

Dear daddy,

We're in London now. Steve managed to save the men of the 107th, I'm sure you've seen the posters all around. He's America's beacon of hope.

I hope Eliza and ma are good. I hope you're good.

I'm writing to let you know that Steve and I got married today. It was fast, we just got engaged last week, but nothing has ever felt more right. Writing this letter, the ring sparkling in the moonlight, it's perfect. I don't regret anything.

Steve has assembled his team, they called themselves the Howling Commandos and I couldn't be more proud. He promises that once they get all of HYDRA's bases, the war will be over and everything will hopefully go back to normal.

I got my happy end, daddy. I know it's not the end, it's just the beginning of a perfect life. A perfect life with my perfect husband, and hopefully my perfect family. I hope you're happy for me.

With all my love,

Y/N Rogers.

"What are you writing, Mrs. Rogers?" Steve queried, sat upright in bed.

Y/N smirked before climbing back into bed, ridding herself of the severely oversized blazer. "Nothing, Mr. Rogers."

The pair broke out into a fit of laughter as he pulled her close, hand trailing up and down her back, dangerously close to the soft skin of her backside.

2 years later, a year after the well grieved death of Bucky Barnes, Y/N had turned 20 and the couple had decided it was time to add to their family now that some light was finally at the end of the tunnel after a long 6 years of war.

Tangled in a mess of sheets, limbs intertwined, Y/N rested her head on her lover's heartbeat. "Do you think we made a baby?" She asked timidly.

"Maybe." She let out a faint giggle, eliciting a look of confusion from the super soldier. "What is it?"

"Do you think the baby will be super duper strong? A mini Steve who can lift an entire car up as a little boy?"

Steve chuckled, snuggling her closer. "Or a little girl, just as strong as you. Either way, they'd be beautiful."

She hummed, a hand on his cheek. "With my eyes and your beautiful blond hair, I'd think so."

It was that same day Y/N would find herself supervising one of Steve's missions from base. "Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

She instantly rushed over to the microphone. "Steve? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Y/N! Schmidt's dead!"

"What about the plane?"

"That's a little bit tougher to explain."

She huffed. "Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

"I'll get Howard on, he'll know what to do."

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

Y/N's stomach dropped, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest as she anxiously twisted her wedding and engagement rings. "Please don't do this. We have time, we can work this out." She begged, eyes brimming with tears.

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die, sweetheart. This is my choice, Y/N." She didn't say anything, her head dropping onto the palm of her hands. "Y/N, honey?"

"I'm here."

"We might have to reschedule that doctor's appointment."

Taking in a shaky breath, she wiped the tears of her cheeks with haste, as if Steve could see her. "Alright. I'll book it for Monday."

"You got it."

"10am, on the dot. We can't be late, it's our baby. If there is one in there."

"I want you to know, I love you, Y/N. No matter what. You'll always be my best girl. My only girl."

"I love you too, Steve."

"I was thinking about names. I want to name it after your dad if it's a boy."

She choked a sob, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. I don't mind."

"And if it's a girl-"

"Steve?" Nothing. Not a single breath. She collapsed onto the desk in a mess of tears and loud cries, not caring for Colonel Phillips who stood behind her, a look of pity set on her back.

2011 was a long way away from 1945, Steve thought.

It'd taken him too long to come to terms with the fact that his wife was most likely dead, but when Nick Fury had presented him a box of her belongings, he couldn't help but shed a tear as he sat on the floor of his apartment going through it.

He'd found the necklace he gifted her on their first wedding anniversary, an accessory he now wore himself under his clothing, slipping her wedding and engagement ring onto the chain before putting it on. He grasped it close to his heart, a melancholy sigh leaving his lips.

His eyes narrowed when he came across an unfamiliar book, flipping it open.

Dear Steve,

The war is finally over as of 2 days ago, Japan formally surrendered. I wish you were able to celebrate the victory you worked so hard for.

You missed our doctor's appointment today. You'll be sleeping on the couch tonight after I reminded you to be there at 10am, no later.

I'm pregnant, Steve. What we've been waiting so long for has finally happened and you're not here to see it. I've decided to work with Howard once the baby is here, he'll give me flexible hours and good pay. Enough to keep us going and Peggy's good company.

I'm alone now, now Bucky to help me out, no you. I think I'll keep the house. It would be nice for the baby to grow up in the house we bought together.

I don't know why I've started writing in this stupid thing.

With all my love,

Y/N.

The super soldier let out a strained sob at the confirmation. She was pregnant, and he wasn't there.

He'd missed the entirety of his child's life, and the rest of hers.

The next few pages were short blurbs of her outings with Peggy and Howard, grocery lists and so on.

Dear Steve,

The baby is getting big, I've got a little bump now. Only 24 weeks to go.

Everyone is really excited, maybe more than I am. It's all over the papers "Wife of Captain America pregnant with America's Next Hope."

In truth, I don't want our child to be America's Next Hope.

I just want them to be happy and healthy, and to stay with me forever.

Howard's started building the crib, I told him not to make it too technical. He's putting all kinds of soothers and all everywhere, but it's still nice of him to do so. Peggy took me to London for Christmas and New Year's, we had a nice time and she bought me this beautiful dress. You would've loved it.

I miss you, Steve.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's getting warmer, and April has never felt hotter. Howard and Peggy keep saying it's just me and my big belly. Well, what else would I expect at 7 months pregnant?

Sometimes I feel you around. I'll feel you sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the paper. Or your hand on my belly in the morning. You're all over the house and somehow it's breaking and mending my heart at the same time.

These daily entries are getting a bit boring now, aren't they?

I hope you read these in a different lifetime, maybe.

Your only girl,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Josephine Sarah Stephanie Rogers was born on the 6th of June, 1946.

I named her after your dad, Joe.

I know we never talked about girl names, but I looked at her and I couldn't resist. I just know our little girl is going to change the world, just like your father tried to.

She's a carbon copy of you. Your gorgeous blue eyes, bright blonde hair. She's absolutely perfect, Steve.

And I just know that if you'd met her, she'd have you wrapped around her finger.

But she's all ours, baby. Our little angel, and I couldn't thank you enough for giving me such a stunning gift. Thank you for making me a mother, Steve, it's the best thing I could've ever received from you.

We love you to the moon and back,

Y/N and Josephine.

Steve held his hand to his mouth. He was a father, a father to what would now be a 65 year old woman. A woman who'd already lived most her life, achieved a majority of her milestones, all without him.

Dear Steve,

Happy birthday, my love.

Josephine and I made a cake for you. Today you would have turned 28 years old.

Colonel Phillips visited me today. It was brief, really. He played with Josephine and wished us well.

As I write this ridiculous entry, the wedding rings on my finger feel so heavy, unlike ever before. My heart constantly aches for you, but I will wait. I will wait until it is my time, and I hope you'll be waiting for me at the gates of heaven.

Your ever most loving wife,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's been one year since you've been gone.

I miss you, more than anything in the world.

I'll see you soon, but not too soon.

Dear Steve,

Josephine turned 1 today.

Howard and Peggy threw a party, and you know how Howard's parties are. This one was child friendly, though. He brought a circus and entertained Josephine and all of her little friends from daycare.

Daddy dropped by. He loves Josephine, and he spent most of the day telling her all about you.

She said her first word today. Guess what it was!

Dada. She said your name, Steve. And she'll never forget it.

Wait for me,

Y/N.

Steve only brushed his tears away, flipping through every entry over the next few years.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 16 today.

It's so odd to think that just 16 years ago I was only 20, trying my best to bring her into the world. We made such a beautiful young woman, Steve, and she's exactly like you. She has a hard shell but she's a big softie on the inside.

I've never been so grateful for a human being. She takes care of me, always telling me the best things to use and the best things to buy instead of it being the other way around. She's my protector, my guardian angel. In that way, she took your place.

Peggy helped me throw a big birthday party for her, she deserves it. She's worked so hard in and out of school. All of her friends came, they danced and ate. We got a massive cake to go with it.

Everyday she hugs your picture and thanks you, and today was no different.

I hope you're looking down on us with a smile, sweetheart.

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 18 a few days ago. I couldn't write because I took her to Paris for her birthday.

I'd been planning the trip for a long time, saving up as much as I could. She loved it! She also told me she got into Juilliard, which is a performing arts school in New York. It's far, farther away than she's ever been from me, but it's only an hour drive. She promises to come home every weekend.

I don't have to worry about paying for it anymore after Howard, Phillips, Peggy and I founded SHIELD. It's protection for the world, saving lives, just like you did.

I have to go, Jo's asking me to help her pack.

I love you,

Y/N.

He read through the brief entries of Y/N's time at SHIELD, before stopping at a picture. Juilliard, class of 1969.

She was right. Jo had inherited all of Steve's looks, from the blonde hair and blue eyes to the kind smile she graced the camera with.

Steve finally got to the end of the journal. Recovering after reading through her daughter's longtime boyfriend turned husband, the births of their grandchildren, the death of Howard Stark and more.

Dear Steve,

I like to think I lived a good 76 years of life. I lived to see the year 2001.

I got an education, got myself a job despite spending my father's money because I was young and stupid. I met you, the skinny boy who told me to follow my dreams of being a scientist. I fell in love with you, and the new you that emerged after the serum.

My love for you is eternal, which has been proven in the 55 years I've spent without you.

I lived to see my only child succeed, I lived to walk her down the aisle. I lived to see my beautiful grandchildren.

I've lived more than enough, and I think it's finally time to come home to you, honey.

I'll see you soon.

Y/N.

Steve brought his left hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the wedding band that rested on his finger.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." Steve smirked, carrying the briefcase containing the six infinity stones.

Bucky gave him a sad smile. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." They shared a hug. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy. Tell her I said hi."

"Yeah, Buck. It's gonna be alright."

"How long is this going to take?" Sam questioned as the super soldier stepped onto the heavy machinery.

"For him, as long is he needs. For us, 5 seconds. Ready Cap?"

"I'll be back."

Y/N paced around, lip caught between her teeth. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" She stopped abruptly, turning to face the new voice.

Sighing a breath of relief, she leaped into his arms. "Steve! You're back."

"Yeah, honey. I'm back."

#Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers imagine #Steve rogers #avengers #Steve rogers x y/n #Steve rogers x you #captain america #Captain America x reader #Captain America x y/n #Captain America x you #Steve rogers fanfic #Steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfic #Captain America fanfiction #marvel

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spooky-z · 4 years

Text

IN THE DARK

This story contains: sexual harassment, attempted rape, panic attacks and language. Proceed with caution.

Important info: in this au, Hawkmoth was defeated and Gabriel was never Hawkmoth (nor Natalie-Mayura), but don't worry, he will have karma in his ass.

I didn't tag anyone again, because of the possible triggers.

I wrote this story listening in the dark by bmth in the replay.

You will find things wrong about the law and things like that, but I'm not a lawyer or a police officer so ignore it. This is only a fanfiction.

9.05K

Maribat by @ozmav

Adrien felt numb.

He knew that his heart was beating normally, his lungs working as usual, but the sensation of being suspended... The extra-corporeal sensation he was experiencing, caused these two facts to be left in the back of his conscience.

There was something.

There was someone.

Someone was talking to him.

But Adrien-

"He's having a panic attack!"

Adrien was choking. The air entering his lungs made his chest hurt, his eyes were open - he knew - but he could see nothing but shapes; the wet on his cheek said that he had cried, that he was crying.

His body was freezing, the taste mixed with blood and bile in his mouth made him sick, the sounds seemed distant and the smell-

The smell of her perfume.

Was too much-

Too much-

Someone was touching.

Someone was touching him.

And-

It was like he was still there.

As if she were there.

Adrien-

...

▫▪▪

"Shit." Marinette sighed. "He passed out."

"Sorry!" Chloe was crying heavily in Kagami's arms. “I'm sorry, Mari! I did not know-"

"It's all right, Chlo." Kagami rubbed the blonde's back. "You were just trying to help."

"But-"

"Chloe, it's okay." Marinette said, trying to put Adrien on the sofa. “We are going to let him rest. I need to clean up this mess.”

The mess being the vomit spread on the wooden floor, the lamp shattered on the table, apart from the torn tablecloth.

Adrien, trying to stop himself from falling or, trying to find something to act as an anchor, had pulled the tablecloth tightly, tearing the embroidered details from the hem. And when he hit the ground, he slammed against the table with the lamp.

This was all because Chloe had touched Lila's name.

And Marinette knew at once, that Lila had crossed all lines. Even without knowing what had actually happened.

The three girls were surprised by the sound of the door opening, but soon relaxed when they saw that it was just Luka.

Luka who didn’t know what had happened and was looking at the calamitous state of Marinette's house with horror.

"... What?"

"Adrien." Kagami sighed.

"Adrien?"

"He had a panic attack." Chloe elaborated.

"What was the trigger?"

"Lila." Marinette responded with disgust.

"What the hell did she do this time?" Luka narrowed his eyes, eyes in which the pupils were a little more... sharp. Like a reptile. A snake.

"We don't know." Chloe sniffed, still shaken. "The only thing we know is that when I touched her name, he started to freak out."

"When he got here, was he acting weird?"

"A little less cheerful, but we thought it was Gabriel acting like absolute trash again." Kagami replied.

Luka approached the sofa, eyes sliding over Adrien's sleeping figure. Noticing the reddish spots under the eyes and how the hair was a little oily; which was not normal, since Gabriel did not accept Adrien less than perfect.

"Didn't Plagg say anything?"

"Plagg is hiding with Tikki on the gramophone and doesn't want to leave at all." Marinette sighed. “He barely stopped to speak to us when Adrien arrived. He just dropped the transformation and disappeared into my room. "

"So, he knows what happened and for him to be acting like that, it means it wasn't just one of Lila's lies bothering Adrien." Luka said, fingers stuck in the foam of the sofa. “And apparently it was something really serious. Serious enough to break Adrien.”

"I knew we shouldn't have left Paris without him!" Marinette growled. "If I had just-"

"Marin, please, this is not your fault." Luka said, approaching the girl. “It is not our fault. Adrien even encouraged us to make this trip.”

"He knew you missed Damian." Chloe pointed. "He wanted us to get away from Paris a little bit to celebrate our transfer."

"Even so!" The girl protested. "If I had taken Kaalki, perhaps I could have avoided what happened here."

"Hime..."

"I am afraid." Marinette murmured, tears flowing freely and Luka hugged the girl. “Afraid that Lila has broken Adrien beyond repair."

▫▪▪

The scent of chamomile tea was what woke Adrien out of a dreamless sleep.

At first, he shifted in confusion because that was not his bed. That mattress was a little harder than the mattress on his bed, besides being very narrow and the ceiling was too low to be his home.

But then he heard Marinette's voice whispering something close to him, the blond of Chloe's hair over his stomach, the distinct red of Kagami's fencing uniform and the comforting blue of Luka side by side.

"..." He moved, stretching to sit and Chloe was quick to lift her head. He noticed that her eyes were slightly red. "Good Morning?"

"Adrien!"

"Hey, Chlo."

He was at Marinette's house.

Adrien had gone to the Dupain-Cheng house after fleeing the Agreste mansion.

After running away from his father.

After running away from Lila.

His memory of the day before coming back like an avalanche.

Just like tears.

▫▪▪

"Adrien!"

Marinette, Luka and Kagami hurriedly got up from the table after hearing Chloe's voice.

"Hey, Chlo." They heard Adrien's voice, hoarse and weak, before they saw him.

The model looked the worst for wear. The deep dark circles, the hair pointing in several possible directions, oily and the vomit stains on the shirt, gave a much worse look than he had before passing out.

Marinette was distracted by the tears running down the boy's face.

"Adrien." Kagami sighed, devastated. Eyes shining with tears.

The model bent over his knees before he started to cry hysterically. With painful sobs, snot running down his nose, fingers digging into the blanket Marinette had thrown over him the night before.

Adrien's body shook with the force of sobs, his skin had turned an alarming shade of red.

"I-I-" He tried to say.

Luka was the first to approach him, cautiously so as not to overburden the blonde further. He had no escape when Adrien threw himself on him, arms tight around the musician's waist and his face buried in his chest.

Luka put his arms around Adrien's shoulders, returning the hug as tightly as he could.

Chloe sat next to Adrien on the sofa, gluing his legs over her thighs and crying silently.

Kagami approached, but preferred to sit beside Chloe, one arm on the girl's shoulders and the other hand making circular motions on the skin of Adrien's foot.

Marinette was the last to approach, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Adrien, her hand making comforting movements on the boy's back and his blond hair.

They waited for Adrien to finish crying - Kagami having gone out once to make more chamomile tea - to give the boy a mug of tea.

When Adrien put his feet on the floor and leaned back on the sofa, giving Luka space to sit next to him, Kagami sat on the coffee table where Chloe joined her to be closer to the boy. The four around Adrien.

But it was only after he finished half the tea that Adrien started talking.

"Remember when I told you that I was going to talk to my dad about how Lila was making me uncomfortable in photoshoots and at school?" The four nodded. “Yesterday, before I left for school, I spoke to Gabriel. I told him how I was feeling about all of Lila's harassment and how I didn't want to have contact with her anymore and- “

Adrien took another sip of the tea, fingers tight on the porcelain.

“He said that I shouldn't complain. That an Agreste doesn't run away from a problem, he faces it.” He focused on the amber liquid in the mug. "That I shouldn't complain about my fiancée being sticky."

"What the fuck!?" Chloe whispered angrily. "Fiancée? Gabriel was classier than that.”

Adrien cringed at Chloe's words and the girl squeezed his knee in regret.

“I went to school; the day went by smoothly since Lila didn't show up for classes. I even got excited, even after the conversation with Gabriel. So, when I got home- “Adrien took one hand from the mug to intertwine with Luka's. Trying to anchor. “Lila was there, saying that my father had invited her for a romantic date with me, so we could get to know each other better... I ran away to my room. I-I don't know, I panicked I think.”

He shook his head, looking confused.

“I locked the door, I'm sure of it, but Lila managed to get in anyway. She saw Plagg.” He gasped; eyes wide. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't want to-“

Marinette put her arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“Shh, it's okay, chaton. It was not your fault." She whispered against his hair.

Adrien remained with his face buried in Marinette's shoulder for a few minutes before moving away, his eyes fixed nowhere.

“L-Lila was surprised, but she understood what that meant in some way, I don't know how! So, she threatened to tell everyone if I didn't do what she wanted and I couldn't let her tell everyone about Chat Noir! I couldn’t!" Tears started to run down Adrien's face again. "So, I accepted."

"Adrien." Kagami sighed.

"I thought she would force me to fake a relationship or support her in her lies, I don't know!" Adrien's eyes became more and more glazed. “But that wasn't. That wasn't it. That wasn't it. That wasn't-” His voice trailed off; his lips trembled.

"Take a deep breath, baby." Luka stroked the model's hand, squeezing when Adrien did what he asked. "This, like this... We are here for you."

"She asked me for a kiss." He said weakly and Marinette felt her blood run cold, dreading Adrien's next words.

The other three, having the same reasoning as Marinette, had frozen.

“I didn't want to, but I did what she asked. But then...” He took a deep breath. "But then she said that a simple kiss wouldn’t be enough to keep such a big secret and that she wanted more..."

Adrien placed the mug of tea in Luka's hands, before covering his mouth tightly. Eyes fluttered, but Marinette was quicker.

She took the bucket she had left near the sofa, in case Adrien felt sick again and handed it to the boy, who violently poured all the tea with bile.

When Adrien sat back on the sofa, tired of being sick, Chloe took the bucket and set it on the floor. "Do you want some water?"

Adrien shook his head. "Not yet. I don't think I can keep something in my stomach.” He looked at the ceiling. “... I think I blacked out when she started kissing me, because all I remember after that was Plagg shouting my name and hitting my face. I was undressed, but I still had my underwear on and Lila was lying on the bed just in lingerie. I think Plagg knocked her out.”

Marinette rose from the arm of the sofa, unable to contain herself.

She had tears - like all of them - rolling down her cheeks, her fists were clenched and her nails digging hard into the skin of her hand, she had to use all her restraint to keep from catching Tikki and hunting Lila all over Paris.

Adrien didn't notice the girl's action, his eyes unfocused and still immersed in the story.

"So, I got dressed and used Chat Noir to get away." He continued. "I didn't really think about it until Chloe-" Adrien looked up. “Now I don't know what to do. I don't want to go home because my dad is going to be there and I don't want to go to school either because Lila is going to be there. I also can't stay at your house because I'm sure you will be the first suspects, but it's not like I have much of a choice, so-”

"Adrien." Luka said, barely managing to control the tone of his voice. "Don't you dare suggest going back to that house."

"You are not going back there, Adrien." Kagami stood up, hands running through her hair before she sat down at the table again. "What happened here was not something frivolous. That was very serious.”

"But-" Adrien tried to protest.

"You are not going back to that house." Marinette interrupted anything he could say. “Not if I have anything to say about it. What I have."

That's when Chloe's phone rang with a message received. Five messages in a row.

She got up to check, trying to distract her mind from everything Adrien had told them. Chloe was not coping well with the fact that Gabriel had let Adrien be abused just because he didn’t accept that his son was gay.

Of course, she didn't mention it to her four friends. But she knew that Gabriel's sudden interest in Adrien and Lila becoming more than classmates or co-workers, was linked to Adrien's announcement about being in a romantic relationship with another boy.

Gabriel had smiled and acted like the father of the year on camera, but they knew the truth, of course.

Adrien was on a call with Marinette when Gabriel broke into the boy's room demanding that Adrien retract himself. Demanding that he go to the press and say it was a mistake.

Because Gabriel would not accept his only heir to be in a relationship that, in addition to not bearing fruit - children - would be dragging the Agreste name in the mud because Luka was not someone of high society.

Luka Stone was not a fact known to everyone, only close friends and family. So, the man thought Luka was just a gold digger.

Not that it mattered to Adrien.

So, Gabriel was an old man, homophobic and traditionalist. He wanted Adrien to marry a woman, one who would give him grandchildren and was rich. Someone like Kagami Tsurugi. But Kagami had dodged that bullet by telling Tomoe that she was not interested in romantic relationships, wanting to focus all of her time on fencing.

Which was a complete lie, but it had worked.

Chloe thought Gabriel would try to negotiate Adrien's hand with Audrey, since the first option was out of the question, but he never contacted either Audrey or André about it, so she thought he had finally come to his senses.

But apparently, he felt so trapped that he sold his soul to Satan. The talk of finding someone in high society left out, focusing only on the 'woman who could give grandchildren'.

Chloe tilted her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

She couldn't break. Not with Adrien needing all possible support.

The phone rang two more times, the screen lit showing seven unread Sabrina messages.

Brina <3

[3:25 PM]: Dad showed up with another police officer and Mlle. Sancoeur looking for Adrien, did you see him? [3:25 PM]: Apparently, he ran away from home yesterday and nobody knows where he went [3:26 PM]: Lila is saying some very strange things... I don't know if I believe her. [3:27 PM]: She's accusing you and Marinette of kidnapping Adrien for being jealous of their relationship... But that can't be true, can it? Adrien is dating Luka! We all know that! [3:28 PM]: Chlo, I don't like what she's implying. Is Adrien okay? Did she do something to him yesterday? Is that why he ran away???? [3:29 PM]: Nino said that Adrien doesn't answer the phone and doesn't know where he might be. [3:30 PM]: If you are with Adrien now, let him know that they are going after him. They left for the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

"Mari, we have a problem!"

"What's it?"

“Gabriel pulled the strings and the police are already looking for Adrien. They are coming here.”

Adrien stood up from the sofa abruptly, his hands shaking and his face pale.

"I can't go back there." He stammered. “I know I talked about going back, but I can't. Don't make me go back there.”

Luka stood up, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and forcing him to face him.

“Adrien, calm down. We will not send you back there.”

"What are we going to do, Marin?" Kagami asked worriedly.

"I know exactly what to do." Marinette replied, determined.

She wouldn't let Gabriel or Lila get away with it. They would pay for hurting Adrien.

▫▪▪

Chloe jumped in surprise at the sound of the doorbell ringing, but Kagami was quick to kiss the girl's hand in comfort. Trying to calm her down.

Marinette sent a look at the two of them, before getting up from the sofa and answering the door. Where M. Raincomprix, Mlle. Sancoeur and another police officer, one she didn’t recognize, looked at her critically.

“Oh! Hello M. Raincomprix! Mlle. Sancoeur and...”

“Berger. Louis Berger.” The man introduced himself.

"M. Berger.” She repeated, smiling sweetly. “What brings you here? I hope it's not for our pastry, because Mom and Dad are in London on vacation!” Marinette joked.

Sancoeur frowned in annoyance, Raincomprix looked increasingly uncomfortable and Berger was the only one who was courteous enough to smile pleasantly at her.

"Unfortunately, we're not here to-" Raincomprix started, but Sancoeur was quick to cut him off, almost pushing Marinette to the floor as she passed through the door.

"Where's Adrien?!" She snarled.

"Adrien?" Marinette murmured in confusion. "I haven't seen Adrien since last week, before I left."

"We received information that Adrien Agreste would be here." Raincomprix said, being more polite than Sancoeur when entering the house, followed by Berger.

"I don't know who could have informed you about this, but it is impossible for Adrien to be here." She answered. "I arrived from Gotham just last night."

Sancoeur grunted like a furious dog, looking like she was about to hit Marinette. Which was a surprise, since Marinette never saw the woman less than composed.

"Don't lie to us!" She spat. "I know that you are obsessed with Adrien and crazy enough to try anything!"

Marinette frowned, feeling offended. She was trying not to break the insolent woman's nose.

“Mlle. Sancoeur I really don't know where Adrien- “

"Adrien?" Chloe's voice cut the tension between the two. And the four turned to face Chloe standing in the middle of the room, Kagami beside her holding hands. "What's with Adrien? Something happened? He’s fine?" She was frantic, almost panicked.

Marinette had to admit that the girl had a talent for acting.

“Oh, Mlle. Bourgeois and Mlle. Tsurugi, you would be next on the list.” Berger said surprised.

"List? What list?” Kagami looked genuinely confused. “And what does this have to do with Adrien? Can someone explain to us what the hell is going on? "

Raincomprix had a painful expression on his face.

"Adrien Agreste went missing last night and nobody knows where he might be."

"WHAT?!"

▫▪▪

Needless to say, Natalie seemed less than happy to be leaving Marinette's house. Having sniffed every corner and not finding a single strand of blond hair to accuse the girl of kidnapping.

The officers left the house on various levels of embarrassment thanks to Sancoeur's less than ideal behavior.

▫▪▪

"What is the plan?" Damian asked.

All of them - except Luka who had gone to Liberty just to get him off the list of suspects - were at Wayne's mansion in Paris. The place that Adrien would stay hidden until it was time to appear again.

After Sabrina's warning, Marinette was quick to throw Trixx and the necklace over Adrien's hands, ordering him to transform and then casting an illusion over himself, becoming invisible. Soon after she got in touch with Damian explaining everything as quickly and succinctly as she could and he told Adrien to hide there, at Wayne mansion, where no one would come looking for him.

Luka had left at the same time as Adrien, losing the police and Sancoeur in a matter of minutes.

Kagami, Chloe and Marinette stayed in the house for an hour after Sancoeur and company left, before heading to Wayne's mansion.

Where they were trying to come up with a plan that would destroy Gabriel and Lila once and for all.

"I don’t know." Marinette sighed. “Defeating Hawkmoth was different from that here because well, the guy was a terrorist and I was just able to beat him up with all my strength. Now, Gabriel is a civilian, a despicable and horrible, but still civilian. The same goes for Rossi. I cannot go with brute force.”

"How about blackmail?" Tim suggested, they were all sitting on the floor of the game room trying to think of something.

Kagami shook her head. "Blackmail may be a good idea at first, but it loses its effectiveness as time goes on."

“It has to be something more definitive. Like jail or death.” Chloe said, not caring about her abruptness.

Adrien was not among them, which was a major factor in Chloe's lack of filter. The model had gone up to one of the guest rooms wanting to bathe and sleep. Trixx following him closely, since Marinette was not comfortable leaving him alone.

Plagg still refusing to leave the Kwamii dimension.

Plagg. Plagg.

"Wait!" Marinette stood up; her brow furrowed in concentration. “Do you remember what Adrien said? About Lila recognizing Plagg.”

Kagami bit her lip thinking, before opening her eyes wide. "He said that she knew what Plagg meant."

Tim cocked his head in confusion. "So, she saw Adrien transform before?"

Chloe shook her head frantically. The eyes were wide, too. "No." She answered. “Adrien said that Lila saw Plagg and understood what it meant. If she had seen Adrien transform before, she would have already tried to blackmail him.”

"Not to mention that he said she was surprised, before informing him that she knew what Plagg was." Kagami said.

"Which means..." murmured Marinette.

"Lila already had contact with miraculous and kwamii before she saw Plagg for the first time." Damian worked out the train of thought. "And the only miraculous who was not with the Guardian was-"

"The butterfly." Everyone said together.

The five froze, the meaning of those words weighing on them, only returning to normal when Plagg suddenly appeared between them.

"Pigtails, I have an idea on how to take down the demon Rossi." He said without the usual tone of mockery. “About Agreste senior, I think your boyfriend and his brother will get enough just by investigating his past. The guy is not very good at hiding the tracks.”

The four who were still sitting on the floor stood up, different levels of determination showing on their faces.

"But before that, let me call the cavalry." Marinette agreed, hand taking the phone out of her jeans pocket.

"Cavalry?" Tim muttered confusedly to Damian and the boy just sent a conspiratorial smile in response.

Marinette had the phone to her ear.

“Mom? I need your help and Dad's.” She said. “It's about Adrien. He needs his family.”

▫▪▪

Finding evidence against Gabriel was like Plagg said: easy.

The guy had the Everest of dirt, but he had no idea how to get rid of the evidence. He probably just hadn't been arrested yet because he was rich and because of corruption. After all, why arrest a guy for free when you can keep him free and still earn a fat bonus for that, right?!

They managed to do away with two printer paper packages and there was still a shortage of paper to print the evidence against him.

Rossi had been easy and complicated at the same time, because the evidence about her being less than a decent person had been easy to find. A little survey of the previous schools she had attended gave them more than enough evidence that the girl was at least a sociopath and at most a psychopath.

Not medicated and who, in a way, liked it.

However, finding evidence that Lila worked with the Paris terrorist had been more complicated than they thought it would be. Even with Tim and Damian together investigating this part of Lila's life, there was very little to prove that she was part of it.

What led Marinette and Damian- Ladybug and Thaelab, the current situation: La Santé Prison. Where Hawkmoth, Bob Roth, was being held. She had requested visitation for the criminal with the excuse that she had a proposal for the man in exchange for information.

She reached the small room, where there were two prison guards at each corner of the wall behind Bob, and the man himself was sitting, along with the lawyer, at the only iron table in the center of the room.

Marinette wasted no time in sitting on the available chair across the table, Damian preferring to stand, leaning against the wall behind her.

"What brings the heroes of Paris to my humble residence?" Bob Roth crossed his legs, his nose held up despite his lack of power.

"I want to know about Lila Rossi." Marinette wasted no time. "I want to know about the person who was helping you to terrorize Paris."

Bob froze in his chair, his lawyer casting suspicious looks at the man. Bob probably hadn't informed him about his aide in crime.

The prisoner cleared his throat in surprise before disguising his discomfort with a disdainful pose.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Marinette raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Bob, please. Don't act like I’m an idiot.”

"I still don't know what you're talking about." He insisted.

Marinette sighed, getting up from the chair.

"Okay then." She said. "I thought we could negotiate a reduction in your sentence in exchange for information, but apparently I was wrong." She sighed before turning to leave. "Thaelab." And Damian pushed himself off the wall, following her.

Bob's eyes widened in a panic.

"WAIT." He called, Marinette and Damian stopping inches from the door, still not turning around. "If I tell-" The lawyer nudged him, trying to stop the man from speaking, but he ignored the warnings. “If I tell you about Lila, can you bring Xavier over to see me? I haven't seen my son since I was thrown here.”

Marinette and Damian looked at each other before nodding and returning to the table, both sitting down, their attention focused on Bob Roth.

The man sighed, shoulders slumped and looking away.

"You're right." He started. "Lila Rossi knew about Hawkmoth."

“How did she knew that? As far as we know, Lila arrived in Paris after you started terrorizing citizens. So, how?" Damian questioned.

Bob Roth looked up, his mouth in a thin line.

"Lila Rossi is my daughter." He replied. "A daughter I never wanted, but who came to my door threatening to expose everything to the press if I didn't do what she wanted."

▫▪▪

"This is what I call a plot twist." Adrien whistled, a recording of Marinette and Damian's conversation with Bob Roth playing. "She was blackmailing her own father."

"But now we can understand where she got this toxic behavior from." Chloe murmured. "Madam Rossi is a loving person despite being so busy, so I never understood how Lila could be so..." She waved her hands in the air, trying to find the right word.

"Bob?" Kagami offered confused.

"That will do." Chloe shrugged.

"But I don’t understand." Luka frowned. "If she was already blackmailing him with fatherhood, then why let her know about Hawkmoth?"

"Because if she tried to hand him over to the police, he would be able to 'prove' that Lila was helping him all this time." Tim responded easily.

"So, he set up his own daughter." Marinette shook her head, failing to understand how most of the people she knew had serious problems with their parents, while she was rainbows and flowers with hers.

"A girl he didn't even consider as a daughter." Damian pointed. “It was easy to notice the contempt in his voice as he talked about Lila. Very different from when he talked about Xavier.”

"Do we know why he wanted the miraculous?" Chloe asked.

Adrien looked up in confusion. “Oh? Didn't I tell you?” He tilted his head. “He wanted to revive Xavier's mother. His wife."

"I'm kind of sympathizing with him." Kagami winced in disgust. "But I don't want that."

"Okay, guys." Tim slammed hard against the keyboard. “The dossiers about Lila Rossi and Gabriel Agreste are ready. I think it's time for Adrien Agreste to show up.”

"It's show time, guys!"

▫▪▪

Mlle. Bustier was in the middle of an explanation when Markov started to fuss, the screen turning red and flashing "Urgent!"

Everyone looked at the little robot in alarm until he started to project a video on the green board.

It was a report by Nadja Chamack.

"We are here, in front of the police station, where Adrien Agreste was spotted entering accompanied by Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain from the Dupain-Cheng bakery and three other lawyers." Nadja announced to the camera, in the background, the police station in evidence. With barriers to prevent the overtaking of the curious and journalists. “Adrien Agreste, who had disappeared a week ago, appeared today for the first time. He has not yet left the police station and the only information we have obtained so far is that he is filing a complaint about what motivated him to run away from home.”

Nadja's image was replaced by a recording of Adrien getting out of a black car with tinted windows, accompanied by Sabine and Tom - Marinette's parents -, two men and a serious-looking woman wearing suits and with a leather briefcase in her hands.

Adrien seemed far from the model image that Bustier's students were used to.

There were dark circles under his eyes, eyes that were bloodshot. The blond hair that was once shiny and silky was dull and coarse. There was an abnormal pallor in the boy's skin.

The clothes he wore were atypical. A huge hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. Black from end to end.

Tom and Sabine were on either side of the boy, trying their best to protect him from flashes and questions, before the police finally showed up escorting them into the police station.

Filming went back to Nadja.

“As you can see, Adrien Agreste gave no statement and we had no news from Gabriel Agreste or his staff. My name is Nadja Chamack and I will be back with more information.”

The projection was cut off abruptly, the entire class in shocked silence before they jumped out of chairs, loud and confused voices. Everyone trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Sabrina was the only compound, her eyes sharp on Lila Rossi who was strangely quiet, with a sticky glow on her skin.

Sabrina was sure that if she looked Lila in the eye, she would see the dread there.

▫▪▪

"How did they find out that Adrien was going to the police station?" Tim asked confused.

"Nadja is a close friend of the Dupain-Cheng family." Damian replied disinterestedly. "Sabine contacted her and with the promise of an exclusive and Nadja alerted fellow journalists to Adrien's testimony."

Tim frowned even more confused.

“But wouldn't it be better if no one knew that Adrien was back? For us to have the trump card.”

"I thought so too, but apparently the first image of Adrien's return would have to be shocking." The boy crossed his arms. "The image of Adrien Agreste at the bottom of the well, being the first to be published in the press, to pave the case against Gabriel and Lila."

Tim winced at the harsh words.

“Wow, wasn't that a little too much? Expose Adrien like this...”

"It was his idea, actually."

"... Despite everything that's going on, Adrien manages to keep his head cool enough to think that way." Tim murmured. “I am amazed and proud. I don't know which one stands out the most.”

▫▪▪

The disclosure that Adrien had appeared was not just to spread the boy's defeated image. Of course not. Marinette would not be insensitive to such a way of letting Adrien expose himself as harshly as if he were on a freak show.

No. That had also been bait.

They knew that as soon as Gabriel found out that Adrien was back and accompanied by Marinette’s parents, it wouldn’t take long for him to break into Dupain-Cheng bakery and distribute threats about what he could or couldn’t do if they didn’t hand Adrien back to him.

Which didn't take long to happen.

After the news that Adrien had left the police station without giving a statement of what had happened, Gabriel didn't take long to appear at Sabine and Tom's door. Natalie, Gorilla - who had an expression of sadness - and two men who were supposed to be for frighten Marinette's family, but that did not have the expected effect.

“Good evening, M. Agreste. To what do I owe the honor of this most dignified visit?” Sabine asked. The mocking tone of her voice did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Man, he had the guts. The bakery was surrounded by journalists and he still had the audacity to appear as if he were the queen of England.

"Where is my son?" Gabriel asked, his entire posture showing contempt. “I hope you are aware that I will be filing a complaint for kidnapping and private imprisonment. Your daughter lied to two policemen and you and your husband covered it up.”

Tom, who was comfortably seated on the sofa, looked up. The expression on his face was very different from what he normally had.

"Kidnapping? Are you sure about that, Gabriel?” Tom asked. "I want you to think very carefully about your next words."

Gabriel snorted in offense.

"What else would it be when my son goes missing for a week and your daughter lies saying she doesn't know his whereabouts?"

“How about: harassment, attempted rape, cover-up, exploitation of child labor, neglect, gaslighting...? There are a number of things I could also suggest here, but it is better to leave that for trial day.” Marinette finally spoke, rising from the sofa and approaching the door. Approaching Gabriel.

Natalie gasped, fury shining in her eyes. "What are you talking about you-"

“If I were you, I would keep the poisonous tongue in my mouth if I don't want to lose it, Mlle. Sancoeur. I personally don't like violence, but if it's necessary I wouldn't mind teaching you some good lessons.” Sabine said, there was a sweet smile on the woman's face.

"What is this story about trial?" Gabriel demanded.

That was when Katherine Spencer, one of the lawyers Bruce had made available to defend Adrien, rose from the dinner table. She had insisted on staying at the Dupain-Cheng house, since the likelihood of Gabriel showing up to take Adrien and threatening them, was high.

"M. Agreste?” She asked. "I have some documents that should be of interest to you."

"And who would you be?" Gabriel raised his eyebrow, snobbish.

"Oh, sorry for my lack of manners." Katherine opened the leather briefcase and took a business card out of one of the smaller pockets, before handing it to Gabriel. "I'm Katherine Spencer, one of Adrien's lawyers."

Gabriel looked at Katherine and the paper, disbelieving what he read and heard.

"It says here that you are part of the Wayne conglomerate...?" He said, bewildered.

Katherine smiled, probably enjoying the effect it had on Gabriel.

"Yes, Marinette and Adrien are very close to the Wayne family, so when Mr. Wayne heard about Adrien's situation, he sent three of his best lawyers to help." She replied, the smile never failing.

With that, she opened the leather briefcase again, taking a wad of papers from the largest pocket, before handing them out to Natalie, who took more by reflex. And then she handed Gabriel a single paper.

The man's eyes grew a few inches after reading the biggest words on the paper and Katherine used this as permission to continue her speech.

"As you can see, this is an immediate restraining order." She nodded. “You and any Gabriel employee, whether personal or from your brand, including models, may not contact Adrien Agreste by any means possible. Otherwise, the police may be called.”

“But-but Adrien is Gabriel's face! My main model!”

Katherine nodded as if she understood the man's indignation.

"As you can see a little further down in that document, Adrien is indefinitely prohibited from working under the Gabriel brand until the investigation and trial are over."

"Investigation? Trial? What the hell are you talking about?” Natalie asked, looking more and more irritated.

Katherine stared at the woman without reaction.

“Adrien, Mlle. Sancoeur, was sexually harassed and nearly raped by a classmate who coincidentally also works for Gabriel.” Natalie gasped in horror. "All of this under the roof of his own home, with the permission of his own father."

"That- no-" Natalie babbled. Behind her, Gorilla had his hand over his mouth, a greenish tinge to his skin.

“I'm afraid it's true, Mlle. Sancoeur. There is testimony and evidence about it. " Katherine sighed heavily. “Today Adrien went to give his testimony again, so that there would be no reasonable doubts and then we got the restraining order. Now you must go.” She waved her hands. "There can be no contact between Agreste and Adrien."

▫▪▪

Not surprisingly, when Lila received her restraining order, she freaked out.

The girl tried with all her strength to make herself a victim, even going so far as to give an interview to a local TV channel - less famous than Nadja's, but which attracted everyone's attention because Adrien's name was involved - telling what supposedly happened.

Madam Rossi was next to her daughter, both sitting on a sofa in what should have been Lila's house, while the girl cried copiously in a false way, telling how Adrien Agreste had attacked her at a business dinner. That he just didn't go any further because they heard a strange noise coming from the main floor, so Adrien ran for fear of being caught.

▫▪▪

Adrien's fans ate Lila for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

▫▪▪

It wasn't long before she also showed up at the bakery with the mask of a good girl being wronged. Demanding that Adrien withdraw the restraining order because it was destroying their relationship.

She looked more and more insane.

When Sabine took the girl upstairs to their home, Lila thought she had finally managed to get away with it. Only to come face to face with Marinette Dupain-Cheng and another frankly scary boy - he had a horrible scowl and a murderous look - sitting as if they were waiting for her.

Lila looked around expecting to see Adrien, but there were only the two of them there. Sabine soon returned to the lower floor.

“Hello, Lila. What are you doing here?" Marinette asked curiously, a cup of tea in hand.

"Where is he, Dupain-Cheng?" She spat, not bothering to act. Marinette wouldn't believe a word she said.

Marinette raised her eyebrow in surprise.

"He?"

“Don't be stupid, Marinette. Everyone knows that Adrien is hiding here like a coward after he ran away from home.”

"Don't you mean after you tried to rape him?" The scary boy asked. That was when Lila noticed the oriental sword leaning against the side of his chair. Unsheathed.

“I didn't do that! He's just confused!” She stammered.

"I don't know Lila..." Marinette tilted her head innocently. "Blackmailing someone for... sex, also falls into the category of rape."

Lila swallowed a sigh, surprised that Marinette knew the details. She believed that Adrien had told only the basics, trying to keep his furry secret out of the spotlight. Lila had plans to use this surprise factor to her advantage, but apparently Adrien was playing to win.

"Don't be surprised, Rossi." The boy said again. "Don't think you're the hunter here."

"What-"

"With that, I want you to meet someone formally." Marinette said nonchalantly. "Plagg."

And Adrien's kwamii appeared, incredibly scary for such a small and generally cute, creature.

“Hello sausage. We have a matter to discuss.” He said, his voice resonating on the walls of Marinette's house and Lila backed away in alarm.

She needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

▫▪▪

“There, pigtails! Her memory of me is erased, but I haven't erased the attempt to... Anyway! I'm going back to the house of your murderous boyfriend, Adrien promised to watch the lion king with me with a lot of camembert.”

"Thank you, Plagg."

▫▪▪

For the interview with Nadja Chamack, Adrien decided that the best place for this interview would be in the place where he felt most secure. The Dupain-Cheng house, on Marinette's balcony.

There were only Nadja and Adrien in the camera frame, but Tom, Sabine, Luka and Marinette were in the background, along with the cameraman, in the form of support.

"Thank you for granting us this exclusive, Adrien." Nadja smiled. "I know it shouldn't be easy to sit here and relive everything, especially now with Lila Rossi's recent interview."

Adrien nodded, he looked more composed than the first time he appeared on cameras at the police station, but it was still possible to see how puffy his eyes were and how thin he had become.

He was having a hard time keeping food in his stomach.

“Thank you, Nadja. It has been a difficult time for me, but with the support that I have received from my family, I remain strong on this journey.”

"This is very good to hear Adrien." Nadja nodded before speaking again. “Could you tell us what actually happened? Many of your fans believe that Lila's statements were false. What's your version of it all?”

"Well..."

▫▪▪

This time the witch hunt version Gabriel Agreste and Lila Rossi had tripled in strength, because in addition to Adrien's fans, parents who were outraged by Gabriel's behavior and artists who knew Adrien for the sweet and kind boy he was, protested.

They demanded that Gabriel and Lila to be thrown in jail and the key forgotten at the bottom of the seine.

▫▪▪

Both were arrested the day after the interview.

Gabriel got provisional release, of course. Such a rich man would not be arrested if he could do something about it.

Lila, on the other hand, had to wait for the trial in a juvenile detention center, even though Madam Rossi had tried everything she could to keep the girl from being taken away.

▫▪▪

On the day of Gabriel's trial, the press was in full force in front of the Palace of Justice, wanting an exclusive or some pronouncement from Gabriel, because since Adrien's interview, the man has remained strangely quiet.

The court was packed. The Mlle. Bustier’s class by weight had attended the man's trial. They were all sitting in the right hall, behind where Gabriel's group of lawyers was sitting.

Only Nino and Sabrina who were on the left. Nino was sitting in the front, as close to Adrien as possible.

He was happy that Gabriel was finally getting what he deserved, but also sad that Adrien had to go through hell for this to finally happen.

Sabrina was content to sit next to Chloe and Kagami.

The Wayne family had also attended, all wanting to show support for Adrien in this difficult time. Leaving the Super family to look after Gotham while they were away.

There were also curious people, some people from Adrien's fan club, some parents of Mlle. Bustier's students and accredited reporters like Nadja.

The stage was set and Gabriel was the main character.

The defense attorney had taken the route of trying to turn Gabriel into a victim of Lila's manipulations, which might have been true to some extent, but that made no difference when Gabriel was a terrible father. And such awful person.

He had no excuse for that, because it was obvious that Emillie was the only one of the two who really took care of her son and that it ended when she died.

To say that it was satisfactory when Katherine tore him up in front of the audience, jury and judge Lahiffe - Nino's mother - did not come close to the real feeling that the miraculous team felt.

When Gabriel was found guilty... Well, it wasn't Marinette's fault the shout of celebration they let out.

Thirty years in prison and a ban on any attempt to contact Adrien.

▫▪▪

Adrien later that day, discovered that the Dupain-Cheng were officially applying for guardianship.

He still had two years to reach legal age and as Gabriel and neither Emillie had close family, Adrien would enter the system. What Sabine and Tom Dupain-Cheng would not admit.

Adrien was already part of the family.

▫▪▪

The miraculous team was amused to realize that every time someone called Adrien Agreste, he would correct it by saying it was Adrien Dupain-Cheng now. With his chest puffed out like a peacock spreading feathers.

▫▪▪

Mlle. Bustier's class and even the teacher herself tried to contact Adrien or any of the three - Adrien, Marinette and Chloe -, but every attempt was thwarted by Tom.

Adrien needed time and he couldn't do that with a group of curious and insensitive teenagers buzzing in his ear.

▫▪▪

Lila's trial had been less of a show and more of a funeral.

She appeared in court accompanied by prison guards, her hands and feet handcuffed and typical prisoner clothing, but what attracted the most attention about the girl was her short hair. Navigating between a pixie and a mullet.

Adrien shifted uncomfortably in his chair next to Katherine, looking confusedly at Marinette.

He knew that Marinette was watching every step Lila took, even in the detention center, so she was probably aware of this sudden change in Lila's appearance. But she never said anything to him.

(Of course Marinette said nothing. She knew that if she told Adrien that other girls in the detention center - his fans - had taken revenge on the Italian girl for what she did, Adrien would feel guilty. Even if Lila deserved a lot worse than a simple bad haircut.)

As the trial passed, everyone there was certain that Lila was being judged just because she was a terrible human being who doesn't know how to hear no; but when Katherine was getting more and more evidence out of her briefcase, everyone started to understand that Lila was much worse than they thought.

Madam Rossi had hyperventilated three times before the big revelation that Lila helped Bob put terror in Paris. So, when the man came in as a witness against Lila and told the whole truth, the woman fell hard against the wooden bench.

She had to be carried out of court.

▫▪▪

There was no deliberation.

Lila was immediately found guilty.

She got a life sentence with no chance of parole.

▫▪▪

"How are you feeling, chaton?" Marinette asked, fingers dancing over his blond hair.

“Relieved, sad and tired. And also happy.” Adrien replied, his face buried in the girl's neck.

The two had built a fort on Marinette's balcony, enjoying the clear skies and warm night. Trying to disconnect from everything and everyone.

Adrien was curled over Marinette's body, grabbing the girl as if she were his lifeline and Marinette had her arms around him, her fingers playing with the blond hair on the back of his neck.

“I know it has been difficult, that it is a lot to assimilate, but I want you to know that I will always be here for you. Always." Marinette whispered. "I will never let my kitten suffer again."

Adrien sniffed, arms tightening Marinette even more.

“Thank you, Mari. I'm very lucky to have met you.”

BONUS #1:

"I was thinking here..." Adrien looked up from where he was kneading the dough, drawing Marinette's attention across the table decorating cupcakes.

"Yes?" She murmured, the tip of her tongue dangling in concentration.

"If you're going to pursue a career in the fashion world, who's going to take care of the bakery business?" He looked away, his cheek starting to turn a lovely red. "Sabi-Mom and dad won't have a lifelong willingness to take care of the business, so who's going to do it for them?"

Marinette placed the cupcake on the table, looking at Adrien seriously.

"Adrien, be direct and say what you are thinking."

"I-"

"I think Adrien is trying to say that he wants to become a full-time baker, isn't that cupcake?" Luka asked, appearing out of nowhere behind the blond boy and kissing the reddened cheek.

Adrien squeaked in surprise, almost dropping the dough off the counter.

"Luka!" He scolded. “Don't scare me like that! And don't call me a cupcake!”

"Sweetie?"

"Sweetie either!"

Marinette rolled her eyes at them both.

Luka, after he started his relationship with Adrien, seemed to discover new parts of himself that he was previously unaware of.

Like being hopelessly in love and endless flirting.

It was disgusting.

"Okay, you two stop." She got attention. “The two of you flirting is disgusting. Too much sugar for my system.”

Adrien snorted, offended, Luka just winked boldly.

Marinette ignored them both.

"But if that's the case, I don't think dad would mind Adrien." She continued. “He will probably be very happy, actually. God knows how that man tried with all his might to develop my interest in baking full-time, but he never succeeded.”

Adrien smiled, lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Do you really think?!"

"Of course." She nods. "Best of all, we have some of the best pastry schools here in Paris, in case you don't want to leave."

"Who's leaving?" Damian came into the kitchen looking like he was still asleep.

He and Luka had spent the night at the Dupain-Cheng house after a double date for horror movies with lots of buttered popcorn and sugary drinks.

It was supposed to be a slumber party with everyone, but Kagami had taken Chloe and Sabrina on a date; Nino was on Chris' nanny duty and Damian's brothers, who had arrived in Paris that night, preferred to stay home to recover from the jetlag.

So, it was just the four of them. And they managed to get to half of Annabelle before they passed out in the dreamland.

Marinette and Adrien just waking up when Tom passed the room to go down to the bakery, Luka and Damian sleeping heavily.

"No one. Mari was explaining to Adrien that he is more than welcome to continue the family business while she reigns in the fashion world.” Luka handed him the coffee mug.

"Amen." Damian murmured, planting a kiss on the girl's forehead before swallowing half of the black coffee at once.

"He looks so much like his brother when he does that." Said Adrien, remembering the time he had slept on the sofas at Wayne Manor and woken up with Tim sipping a huge mug of black coffee as if he were drinking water.

Marinette snorts with amusement.

"I always say that, but he never takes me seriously."

Damian frowned unhappy with the comments, but said nothing, seeing Sabine open the door with a tray of cookies in her hand.

"Look what just came out of the warm oven!"

Marinette smiled, her eyes on Adrien who had run to the woman, trying to help her with the tray even though she didn't need to. He was blushing adorably for the attention Sabine was giving him.

She was happy that Adrien was finally getting the attention and love he deserved.

BONUS #2:

Marinette was sitting in a small, but wonderful, restaurant with Leon.

Leon whom Adrien affectionately called Gorilla and who of everyone in that house, took care of Adrien as much as he could.

He was also the only one to respect the restraining order - since he still worked for the Gabriel and Gabriel brand - when others believed it was just a means of scaring.

Marinette knew that the man was a good person, that he really liked Adrien and that he had been blaming himself for a while now, for what had happened.

"How's he doing?" Leon asked, his voice disproportionately small for such a large body.

Marinette smiled; the pasta dish forgotten in favor of the man.

“Getting better." She answered sincerely. “There are more good days than bad, there are words that we have to avoid at all costs because of the trigger, but Adrien is doing well. Therapy is helping a lot.”

Leon looked down, a shy smile on his face.

“Is he still going to school? I know how much he enjoyed having a normal life. Or as normal as possible.”

"Yes, mom and dad transferred him to the lycée that I'm attending with Chloe and Kagami." Marinette nodded. "Things at Dupont were inconceivable to him."

Leon looked at her again. “I'm glad he found people he could trust, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette snorted, amused. “Please, Leon. Just Marinette.” She stared at the man, holding his gaze. "He misses you, you know?"

Leon's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Don't be so surprised!" She laughed. "It is true. You were the only person he really felt close to in that place and who never hurt him.”

"Oh..." Leon looked away.

"You should come to dinner with us sometime." Marinette continued. "Now that you no longer work for Gabriel, there is no restraining order to stop you."

"I-"

"Not to mention that we need someone trained to help us when Adrien's fans and journalists get really aggressive." She said innocently before drinking water.

Leon froze in surprise, incredulous at what he heard. Until a sincere smile opened on the man's face.

"Okay."

"Yea?" Marinette asked hopefully.

"Yes."

Leon watched the tiny girl wave her arms happily, not caring about the amused looks and laughter she attracted.

Maybe it was a good start for him too.

#lukadrien #maribat #daminette #kagami x chloe x sabrina #ml salt #lila rossi salt #lila bashing #gabriel agreste salt #gabriel bashing #potentially triggering #miraculous ladybug

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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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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

jealous

wordcount: 3k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

______

After a little bit of bribery, Rafe convinced Sophie to come with him to a charity event he was representing his dad at in Columbus. Once Rafe had committed to Ohio State, Ward immediately began making contacts in Ohio and broadening his impact, putting Rafe to work - and still keeping him tied to the family business as much as he could. To convince Sophie just a little bit more (even though it wasn’t necessary, she’d stand by his side no matter what), he got the help of Allie and Julia to pick out a new dress for her and surprise her with it the morning of the event.

Once she learned that Ward wouldn’t be attending, she was a lot more excited for the event. Rafe made a show out of picking her up, coming to the door with flowers in hand. Word moved fast in the sorority house and by the time Sophie made it downstairs, there was a whole discussion in the groupchat about who the cute boy was wearing the suit and waiting outside their door. When she came down in the dress, red lipstick and all, he whistled, motioning for her to twirl.

Sophie grinned and rolled her eyes but spun for him. “Are those for me?”

He handed her the flowers, beaming. “Yes they are. You look incredible, baby.”

She blushed, shaking her head. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Here, I’ll be right back, let me run these up to my room.” She accepted the flowers and turned on her heel, striding upstairs.

Allie and Julia came back downstairs with Sophie, wearing matching grins. “Clean up nice, Cameron!” Julia called out with a smirk. “Yeah, do you have friends that'll buy us nice dresses and take us to galas?” Allie chimed in, laughing when Sophie gave her a shove on the way past.

“Ah, this one already tried that. Didn’t end well.” Rafe teased, sending a pointed glance to Julia. Julia’s cheeks heated almost instantly and she flipped him off, shaking her head. “You said we’d never speak of it again.”

“Pretty sure that was my rule.” Sophie interrupted, taking Rafe’s arm. “Leave my boyfriend -”

“Sugar daddy -”

“Oh my god, I told you to quit that -”

Allie cut both the girls off with a pointed “hey!” and Sophie rolled her eyes. “Julia, hush, Sophie, you go have fun. Snag us a bottle of fancy alc.”

Rafe laughed and waved goodbye to the girls, escorting Sophie out. “They’re fun. I’m glad they’re your friends.” She shook her head, laughing. “Sometimes I am not. Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You did a good job on the dress, I’m impressed.”

He smirked and helped her into the car, then ran one hand up her thigh. “I have to admit, I picked it out more for the slit up the leg than anything.” Sophie giggled and tugged on his tie to pull him in for a kiss. “Think we can sneak away early tonight?”

“We have my room available from...” He paused, thinking. “Eleven to midnight. The gala ends at ten thirty.”

She laughed, messing with the radio once he got in to drive. “We’re really scheduling sex like an old married couple?”

“We won’t have to when we’re old and married.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, then instantly realized and blushed, fumbling with his words. “Uh, I mean. Um. Yes, uh, but only because we have the roommates - I mean, next year, we’ll both have our own rooms, so -”

She cut him off, amused by his embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you. Besides, that’ll give you more than enough time to finish.”

“Sophie! Take it back. You know that’s not true.” He pushed her shoulder playfully, shaking his head.

“It was true after your formal.” She smirked, loving the way he squirmed when she teased him. The rest of the short ride was spent like that, with mindless flirting and teasing about sex, until he had to make her find directions to the venue.

When he parked, she moved to get out right away, but he reached over and grabbed her hand before she could get out of the car. “Hey, wait. Uh, I should maybe warn you -”

She raised her eyebrows. “Now you decide to warn me about something? Right before we’re going in?”

Rafe winced. “I love you?”

“Uh huh. Not the time. What do I need to know?”

He spoke quickly, knowing he was in trouble. “My ex will be there and she’s liked every picture of us together on Instagram and texted me that she was excited to see me this weekend.”

Sophie sat back in the seat, taking a deep breath as she processed the information. “Who? And you didn’t tell me this, why?”

“Brooklyn. And, uh...that’s a good question, Sophie. You know, I really appreciate your critical thinking skills, have I ever told you that?” He gave her a half-smile, trying to cheer her up without success.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and got out with him, taking his arm when he offered it as they walked inside. Sophie didn’t ask much about his previous relationships, just noted when he brought it up infrequently and tried to reassure him that whatever his ex had told him, they were wrong and he was a great boyfriend. She only regretted not pushing more about it now, when she was about to meet the girl.

It was almost amusing watching him go into entertaining mode the second they stepped in and the first person came over to greet him - it was the same presence he commanded at parties, just remarkably more professional in that environment. After a solid hour of Sophie just standing by while Rafe made polite small talk, dinner was announced and they glanced over the table arrangements to find their spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, spying his ex’s name featured right next to his and Sophie’s. She noticed her name was written as Sophie Cameron, but decided to hold her tongue on the mix up.

She furrowed her brow, taking his hand. “It’s a minor thing, Rafe, I’m sure it was a simple mistake -”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head and pointed to the name Brooklyn Rowley at the head of the table. She nodded once in recognition, pretty sure her heart was sinking to her stomach at the moment. “Oh.”

“You know what? It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, we won’t even have to talk to her, there’s fourteen people at the table. It’ll be fine.” He repeated, trying to reassure himself more than Sophie.

She let him lead her to the table - that was already full except for their two seats. Brooklyn practically jumped up out of her seat when she saw Rafe, grinning ear to ear. “Oh my god, Rafe, hi! Here, come sit next to me.”

Rafe gave Brooklyn an awkward side hug in response to her attempted bear hug, pulling out Sophie’s chair before taking his seat. “Brooklyn, this is my -”

“I’m Sophie.” She interrupted, giving the girl one of the fakest smiles Rafe had ever seen. “His girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” She reached across Rafe, extending her arm to shake Brooklyn’s hand.

Brooklyn pretended to be surprised as she shook Sophie’s hand. “Oh!” She elbowed Rafe teasingly. “She’s cute, Rafe. Didn’t think you’d jump into a relationship again, after.” She gave him a sly smile and touched his arm. “Well, you know.”

Sophie steeled herself, pouring herself a generous glass of wine from the table. Rafe gave a nervous chuckle and nudged his foot against Sophie’s under the table. “We’ve been together for four months now, there’s no jumping into anything. I’ve known Sophie since we were at least fourteen.”

“So you didn’t meet at school? Sophia, do you go to Ohio State with us too?” Brooklyn’s eyes flitted to Sophie’s fingers curled tight around the wine glass, asking the question right when she took a sip.

“No, we met in high school. We’re both from the Outer Banks.” Sophie explained, ultra-polite. “But I go to Ohio State, we just happened to end up here together.”

“Right, right. So you’ve met the family and everything. Has he taken you to the Bahamas house yet? The view is gorgeous.” Brooklyn grinned, touching Rafe’s hand again.

Sophie resisted from gritting her teeth as Rafe gave her a pained glance. “Um, no. I haven’t been.” She tried racking her brain and vaguely remembered a brief mention of the Bahamas from Sarah talking about their summers, but didn’t realize there was a whole vacation home involved.

“Oh! That’s funny. He took me after, like, two months.” She paused for a second to look Sophie over, pleased her words were clearly taking effect. “But it’s like, more of a summer house anyways, so the timing must not have worked out with you two yet. I mean, we went over Christmas break that one time, but -”

“We stayed home for Christmas this year.” Rafe interrupted, resting his hand on Sophie’s thigh under the table, but in clear view of Brooklyn’s line of sight.

Brooklyn nodded, not backing down. “So, Sophia -”

“It’s Sophie. But go on.” Sophie shot back an equally tense smile, feigning interest.

“Right, sorry, Sophie. There’s this gorgeous little private beach you can go to, you should go. If he ever takes you.” She touched Rafe’s shoulder and Sophie bit the inside of her cheek hard, feeling ready to snap. “Oh my god, Rafe, remember when we were drunk and we almost got caught on the beach?” She giggled. “Good thing we weren’t actually making love that time, but my top was off and everything, it was so embarrassing.”

“Sounds like it.” Sophie replied dryly, stepping on Rafe’s foot with her heel under the table. As much as she wanted to gag hearing about the two of them ‘making love,’ she just swallowed another big sip of wine instead. He let out a pained, quiet groan and Brooklyn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh,” he gestured to their empty plates as they waited to be served. “Hungry, I guess. Hey, you’ve been to Barcelona, right? Sophie’s studying abroad there this summer, I’m really proud of her.” Rafe squeezed her thigh under the table, and Sophie relaxed a tiny bit.

Brooklyn shook her head. “No, I’ve been to Madrid. Spain is like, so much better in the off season. But that’s so exciting! What are you doing, how long will you be gone for?”

“It’s through my architecture major. I’m sure I’ll visit Madrid too at one point.” Sophie reached out and straightened Rafe’s collar, just for an excuse to touch him and stake some possession. “It’s for three months.”

“Three months...” She repeated, turning her attention to Rafe. “Are you going to be able to handle that?” Brooklyn laughed, glancing back at Sophie. “He was always so needy, isn’t he?”

“No. I haven’t noticed. We have a healthy relationship.” Sophie replied pointedly before Rafe could open his mouth.

“Right, of course.” Brooklyn gave her a grin, like she was sharing a secret with Sophie and Rafe wasn’t literally in between them. “Give him time, it’ll show. You said you’ve only been together for four months, right? That’s like, so soon in the relationship. Like, Rafe and I -”

Thankfully, the servers came to their table and interrupted them just as she was about to finish her sentence, and Sophie visibly relaxed as the speaker for the night started talking. Rafe leaned over and murmured in her ear. “I’m sorry, Soph.”

She just gave him a tight smile in response and turned her head, kissing his cheek chastely. Thankfully, the rest of the dinner was occupied by the guest speakers and left little room for side conversation, until the dance floor was opened up after the dessert. Sophie had limited herself to the single heavy pour of wine, while Brooklyn hadn’t held back and was clearly tipsy.

When the three stood after the last guest speaker, Brooklyn leaned into Rafe, giggling as she steadied herself on his extended arm. “Oops! Sorry. I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“Oh, I used to not be able to hold my liquor. In high school, I think.” Sophie couldn’t resist the dig and Rafe sent her a warning glance, taking her hand once Brooklyn was upright.

“Not all of us got blacked out at high school parties, Sophia, some of us had priorities.” Brooklyn told her pointedly, and Sophie only rolled her eyes. “But you’re in one of those trashy sororities, right? So I guess it makes sense.”

“Brooklyn, watch it.” Rafe cut in, sliding his arm protectively around Sophie’s waist. Sophie shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on Brooklyn’s. “It’s fine.”

“You could at least not be so obvious.” Brooklyn stated, taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry, it’s just.” Brooklyn gestured to Sophie, to her dress and shoes, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “There’s more to like about him than just the money, you know? Open your eyes, Rafe, you’re being used.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped and she took a quick step forward without even processing all the words that Brooklyn had said. “I can’t believe -” Rafe grabbed her around the waist and stepped in front of her, in between her and Brooklyn. “Sophie, don’t.”

She glanced over Rafe’s shoulder at Brooklyn and her smug smile, then looked back to him with a pleading look. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Meet me out in the hallway?”

She only relented when he kissed her quickly, trying to calm her down more. Sophie reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out the keys, placing a possessive hand on his chest for a steadying breath. “Fine. I’ll be in the car.”

“Aw, you’re leaving? It was nice to meet you, Sophia!” Brooklyn shot her a grin and Sophie grit her teeth, giving Rafe another look again, but he turned her away with both hands on her shoulders. “Ignore her. I’ll talk to her. Go.”

He kept his eyes trained on her until she left the dining room, then turned to Brooklyn, his tone icy but quiet so they didn’t make a scene. “What the fuck was that?”

“Come on, Rafe.” Brooklyn shrunk back a little, pouting. “You’re telling me that’s all real? Seriously? She’s so stiff.”

“Yeah, because she was trying to be polite while you were nothing but rude all evening.” He shot back, arms folded. “I thought you could be civil and finally mature about this. I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re not serious.” She rolled her eyes and reached out for Rafe, only for him to flinch away from her touch. “I mean, look at her. You think she compares to me?”

“No. She’s miles beyond you. She’s so damn clever, she’s fucking gorgeous and she’s loyal as hell.” He paused, a wave of hurt flashing across his face. “Unlike you.”

That seemed to break Brooklyn and her shoulders slumped, face dropping. “Rafe, I...I didn’t mean to hurt you -”

“Am I wrong?”

“He initiated it -”

“Am. I. Wrong.” He spoke evenly, nose flaring.

She sighed quietly. “No.”

“Goddamn it.” Rafe exhaled, nodding once. “Okay. That’s all I needed. Don’t text me again.” He turned sharply on his heel, ignoring her call after him. He strode out to the parking lot and got in his car where Sophie waited in the passenger seat, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Sophie was about to start on an impassioned rant until she noticed his set jaw and tense shoulders, and she reached over, combing one hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You alright?”

“I love you. So fucking much. You know that?” He asked after a moment, pressing his head back into her palm.

“I do. I love you too.” She hesitated. “You don’t believe any of that, what she said. Right?”

“No, god, of course not.” He cracked a grin at her. “If you were with me for my money you’d have let me pay for your jewelry tonight.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, tugging teasingly on his hair. “I have perfectly fine jewelry, it’s ridiculous, not to mention unethical, for you to buy me a new something for every event -”

“I know, I know.” He laughed and leaned over to catch her lips in a kiss. “I’m kidding, baby. You look stunning, no matter what you’re in.”

“I could have taken her, you know.” She squared up in her seat and pretended to punch the air. “Two hits and she’d be out.”

Rafe shook his head, grinning. “I know, that’s exactly why I held you back. Remind me to not get on your bad side.”

“You’ve already been on my bad side.” She informed him, lightly punching his arm. “I think you’re in the clear for a while.”

“Just a while?”

“Yeah, I gotta keep you on your toes.” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “Is she - um, can I - do you have her blocked? I don’t want to overstep, but -”

“No, that’s a good idea. Go ahead.” He handed her his phone once it was unlocked, starting the car and backing out. “All of that was so fucked up, what she said.” He scowled. “And I promise I’ll take you to the Bahamas, it just felt early - I mean, I was nervous to even bring you to the Christmas party, much less family vacation, that’s unnecessary pressure for you -”

“You’re fine, Rafe.” She rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I promise. I don’t care about that. She was just trying to get under my skin.”

“I’m really sorry, I promise. I didn’t think she’d be that way or I would have just gone and switched tables with someone.” He frowned and stretched his arm out, resting it across the back of her seat. “She was so touchy.“

“I would have done something if she touched you again.” Sophie scowled, letting her head fall back against his arm. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah? You jealous?” He resisted a grin, loving the way her nose scrunched up in the scowl.

“No, I know you’re mine.” She slid her hand up his thigh, squeezing once. “I just don’t like other girls flirting with you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re the only one I want flirting with me for a long time.” He reassured her, sending her a smile.

Sophie shoved his shoulder with a grin, shaking her head. “Cheesy.”

“Yeah, and you love it.”

“You know I do.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

#rafe x sophie #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe cameron x oc #college rafe #frat rafe #mine #WHY CAN I NEVER END MY FICS COHERENTLY #fuck that #whatever the rest is good

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

I really love soulmate first word AUs and wonder if you could do a Tarlos one of them meeting? Hope you enjoy your break!

hey lovely! thanks for the prompt, i hope you enjoy it!

*cw for references to a drug overdose and an implied suicide attempt*

ao3

TK hasn’t believed in soulmates for a long time.

He does as a kid, because don’t all kids like the idea of a perfect romance, ready and waiting for them to fall into? He hangs onto his parents’ every word when they relate how they found each other, the moment they realised their Soul Marks matched. TK believes in their story, and he wants something just like what they have.

Then, too quickly, he grows up.

He hears stories of soulmates who never meet, doomed to live life without their pre-ordained other half. Some find happiness anyway; others don’t, too caught up in the fantasy of perfection to settle.

He hears about soulmates who do meet, and then don’t end up working out. His parents fall into this category, their marriage falling apart even before TK learns that soulmates aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. He wonders, sometimes, if they were lying about being soulmates, because his mom seems so much happier with Enzo, and his dad… Well, his dad moves on. He knows, logically, that it’s not true, but the thought is there anyway.

Worst of all, he hears that soulmates aren’t meant for people like him, people who love the wrong way. These tales usually come in the form of insults, and TK learns to disregard them. Even so, the idea sticks in his head for longer than he wants it to, sending a panicked bolt through him despite his disdain for the whole soulmate business.

He almost doesn’t look at his Mark when it shows up on his eighteenth birthday. He stubbornly averts his eyes until his arm is fully covered up, telling himself that it’s better this way. But his resolve weakens as the day wears on, and TK eventually finds himself shoving his sleeve up, looking down before he can second-guess himself.

He’s an impressive guy.

TK stares down at the writing, sitting heavily on the end of his bed as a shard of hope he didn’t even know he had left breaks and vanishes. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting, but words that show his so-called soulmate openly declaring affection for another man aren’t it.

TK tells himself that he doesn’t care. He probably won’t ever meet this guy, and, if he does, he supposes they can still be friends. Or they can ignore each other. That sort of thing happens, he hears. This means nothing to him; it never did, and it never will.

(He pretends to believe it)

At twenty-three, he meets Alex. TK has fallen far since eighteen, hospital trips and rehab facilities becoming staples in his life for several years. He’s been sober for a while now, but sometimes the emptiness inside him is so crushing that he wants nothing more than to give up again.

But Alex is a good guy - the best, really - and TK decides that the universe got it wrong with him. Alex’s first words to him were nothing more than a simple, “Hey”, but TK knows that they’re meant to be together. He even tells people that they’re soulmates when they ask, and because Alex shares his jaded view, he never tries to correct him.

It’s the happiest TK has ever been, and it refuses to throw it all away just because of four meaningless words on his arm.

Their relationship isn’t perfect, but whose is? Even soulmates argue, so he and Alex are completely fine. Better than fine. His dad - the only person besides Alex who knows about TK’s Mark - disagrees, repeatedly telling him that they’re not good for each other. TK doesn’t listen, rolling his eyes the first few times before tuning his dad out altogether.

He regrets that decision when, months later, he finds himself in his front room, engagement ring traded for oxy. A rip-off, really, but it’s not like he’ll be around long enough to care too much.

“I found him, TK,” Alex had said, his voice now echoing in TK’s head. “My soulmate.”

“But… You don’t believe in any of that crap.”

“I didn’t. But Mitchell is incredible, and I want to be with him. Properly, that is. I’m sorry, TK.”

Somehow, TK survives. He’s dragged to Austin, forced into a new city, a new team, a new life. He goes along with it, trying to find something beyond the grey, if only to make his dad happy. It’s an impossible task, but he’s good at faking smiles, so no-one needs to know.

Love and soulmates are the furthest things from his mind, because TK knows now. It’s not that the system is broken, it’s that he is. Those people from years ago were right all along; maybe soulmates do exist, just not for someone like him, who’s so irredeemably fucked up that no-one could possibly love them.

He refuses to waste any time thinking about his Mark, which is why he’s so caught off guard one rainy night when his dad rescues a baby from a tree, and a beautiful police officer approaches him.

“He’s an impressive guy.”

“He’s my dad,” TK responds unthinkingly. The officer’s words take a few seconds to sink in, and he almost gives himself whiplash from the speed at which he turns to look at him. “What did you say?”

The officer is wearing an identical look of shock, eyes wide as he stares at TK. “I…” He grins and shakes his head. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Despite himself, TK’s heart begins to beat that bit faster and he can’t help the slow smile that spreads across his face. “Easy there, cowboy,” he jokes. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“How about a drink? I’ll be at the bar tonight.”

TK freezes, backing up a step or two. He’s been avoiding bars like the plague since New York; beside which, this whole thing is dangerous. If this really is his soulmate, then the universe has shitty timing, because the last thing he wants right now is someone else breaking his already ruined heart. TK carefully studies the guy, cataloguing his kind eyes, his open face, his body, obviously gorgeous despite being hidden under his uniform and raincoat.

He’s the kind of guy TK could easily fall for, which is exactly why he should be running right now. And yet.

“Sure,” he says, smiling. “I’ll see you there, Officer…”

“Reyes.” The officer leans in, so his breath tickles TK’s ear. “But you can call me Carlos.”

“TK.”

They shake hands, both laughing at the absurdity of the gesture. TK’s half sure he imagined the spark that passed between them at the contact, but he knows for certain that he wants - needs - Carlos in his life.

Standing there in the rain, looking into his soulmate’s eyes, TK tentatively starts to believe again.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #twinkleballa #tw: overdose #tw: suicide attempt

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

To marry a Vigilante: Part 1

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

------

When they finally pulled apart, Marinette needed a moment for her brain to restart. She was sure she would melt right then and there. At the same time, she wanted to jump and scream from sheer ecstasy. It was all she ever wanted and now she had it.

Damian stared at her empty expression.

“I think you broke her.” Plagg suddenly zoomed out of her pocket, followed by Tikki who tried (and failed) to catch him.

This was enough for Mari to finally start thinking coherently. “Um… Yeah… I… Maybe…” Or mostly coherently at least.

“Habibti. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.” Damian guided her. Slowly, Mari returned to her senses.

“Thank you… I think I might have kinda lost my breath there.” She gave him an apologetic smile.

“Nothing happened. Now I think I need to leave or my brothers will get some stupid idea and I will have to practice my skill with a sword.” Damian deadpanned.

“Since I know I can’t stop you, please at least don’t kill them until I get to know them better?”

“I can try, but no promises.” He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand.

“Oh! Wait!” She fumbled through her pocket for a moment before pulling out a small box. Plagg immediately was pulled inside it (much to Tikki’s amusement). “Damian Wayne. As Guardian of the Miraculous, I give you the miraculous of the Black Cat, which gives you the power of destruction. I trust you to protect it and use it to help others.”

Damian was stunned only for a short moment and definitely didn’t move his mouth like a fish. Definitely. “I accept that honor and thank you for your trust.”

“There is no one I would trust more than you with this. If not for your and your family’s help, I would’ve never caught Hawkmoth or the Cat.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re brilliant and it was only a matter of time.”

“Time I might’ve not had. Chat was working with Hawkmoth. Who knows when I would’ve fallen into a trap…”

“It’s all over now, Habibti.” He grabbed her hand. “Everything is going to be better now.” When she smiled he let go and opened the box. Plagg appeared in a flash.

“For the record, I hate these boxes.”

“Stop complaining. If you stayed there it wouldn’t have been so bad.” Tikki scolded him.

Marinette giggled at the interaction of the two little gods. Damian just shook his head and donned the ring.

“Can I see how you’ll look?” She asked before her smile took a more grin-like look. “I want to see if you’ll have a cute cat-ears.”

“Maybe when you are in Gotham.” He scoffed. “Thank you, angel. It’s the best Christmas gift you could’ve given me. Your trust means more than gold to me.”

“But Christmas is still a long way away…” Mari tried to dismiss him, but seeing his expression she doubled back. He looked almost scared. Almost, since Damian Wayne did not get scared.

“Angel… Christmas Eve is tomorrow. That’s why your class is leaving on Monday. You are all going to be attending the Wayne New Year Gala next Friday.”

“But… But… Wouldn’t there be decorations in stores? And Santa Clauses on the street? Or at least…”

“There were. Mostly Miraculous themed though. I can’t believe you didn’t notice.” He said with a bit too much amusement slipping into his voice.

“Kwami! Kwami! Kwami!” She started to pace. “I completely forgot! How could I have forgotten Christmas!?” She was close to collapsing. Damian was quickly by her, holding her wrists together to not accidentally get slapped by her flailing arms.

“Habibti. There is nothing to worry about. You already gave everyone the greatest gift possible by ridding them of that terrorist. I admit I regret that we will not be able to spend our first Christmas together as a family, but the last several months were the best of my life already. You don’t need to give me anything more.”

“But… But…” She was at the edge of crying.

“Marinette. Don’t worry. I have an idea.” Tikki reassured her Chosen. “Go tell your parents to pack everything.”

“But… Maman and I must be here at six on Monday” She tried to argue.

“You will be. Kaalki owes me a favor.” The kwami dismissed her.

“But… But I can’t just abuse the miraculous.”

“Marinette. All Kwami love you. They would be happy to help you if the need arose.” Tikki nuzzled into her cheek. Mari finally relented.

“Fine… But I’m buying her three boxes of sugar cubes,” she said with conviction.

The two kwami giggled and Damian cracked a smile.

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

Adrien cursed loudly. He barely managed to escape those damn heroes. And to think that his Lady marries some American ragtag instead of him? That’s how she repaid him for his loyalty? For all of his sacrifices? That was just a travesty.

But it didn’t matter in the end. She didn’t deserve to be Ladybug anyway and now finally, the world could be free from her. Of course, heroes could try to save her. They could even succeed. But he made a point. He severed all the ties with that cursed bitch. Now he could focus on his true soulmate: Marinette. She was the real Ladybug. She was loyal, honest, brave, kind, selfless, beautiful. They’re made for each other. In a perfect world, they would be with one another if he was not blinded by the imposter. She had a crush on him in the past, but he ruined it. Now he had to work trice as hard to get her to join him.

“Don’t worry mother. We will have our family again.” He said, looking at the stasis chamber.

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

When Marinette and her parents exited the portal in Wayne Manor, they were greeted by Alfred the Butler and Alfred the Cat.

“Ah. Young Madame Marinette, Madame Cheng, Master Dupain. It is my pleasure to welcome you. I was told you would be arriving through… extraordinary means.” He greeted them.

“We’re sorry for all the trouble we’re causing you on such short notice.” Marinette immediately started to apologize.

“You are no trouble at all. Definitely not compared to the usual Christmas mess.” He dismissed her apology. She wanted to protest, but the cat jumped onto her and she instinctively grabbed him and hugged.

“I see Alfred the Cat likes you, Angel.” Damian’s voice came from behind. Immediately, Marinette whirled around, only to stare into a pair of green eyes.

“Damian!” She wanted to hug him, but the cat was a bit in the way. Instead, she just leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. They both smiled.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sabine spoke. “Is Cassandra home? I would like to meet my niece. We spoke several times over the phone, but meeting in person is…”

“She is in the gym, practicing ballet,” Alfred informed her.

“Thank you. Tom, be a kind husband, and carry my things to our room. And don’t forget the bag.” She patted Tom’s cheek before leaving.

“Come, Habibti. I will show you the garden.” Damian grabbed her waiting hand.

“Take my bags too, dad? Thanks!” Mari shouted without looking back before she, Damian, and the cat left the room, leaving Tom with half the house packed into bags.

“Why do women carry so much with them…?” He sighed.

“It’s a mystery of the world that we, mere mortals, will never know, Sir,” Alfred answered in his usual tone.

---------

“Cassandra?” Sabine asked, leaning through the doors leading to the gym. The mats that would usually cover the ground were all rolled in the corner to make space. A large mirror covered the entire right wall. A lone girl in a white ballet outfit danced to Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet music.

The girl did not answer or break her dance, but Sabine noted that her gaze shifted toward doors in the mirror. It was just a short moment to assess the threat without breaking concentration on whatever one did. It was the same as she often did. It was an instinct learned through years of training. David Cain better stayed in that cell or else.

When the song ended, Cass turned the music off and walked closer to Sabine until they were standing about a foot apart.

“You’re a great dancer.” The woman started. Cass only nodded in response.

“Practice.” She said. There was more awkward silence where the two measured each other.

“I’m sorry sweetie. For what happened to you. If I knew, I would’ve searched for you and gave you a proper home.” A tear appeared in Sabine’s eye. When they spoke through video, it was mostly about meaningless things to get used to one another or neutral subjects. Now, in person, Sabine wanted to get all regret off her heart.

“No… fault.” The girl answered. “All… good.”

“Can I… Hug you?” Sabine asked, fully aware that not everyone liked physical contact.

“Hug?” Cass asked. To this day, only Dick or Tim wanted to give her hugs and it was rare. “Okay?” She more asked than agreed, but her aunt responded by slowly pulling the girl to her heart.

“I’m still sorry. If I see my sister, she is gonna get her ear screamed off.” She assured the girl. “How could she… You’re such a sweet girl.”

Cassandra Cain smiled. She liked being hugged by that woman. And the image of her mother cowering before her older sister was too funny.

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

“Damian!” Marinette shouted as he dragged her through the garden. It was much colder in Gotham than in Paris. And it was still only late morning here while she left Paris in the afternoon. She was a bit tired.

“I want to show you something, Angel. Come on! Before my brothers find us and drag me into their ‘Christmas spirit’ stuff.” He groaned at the thought.

“Christmas is important!” She argued.

“Definitely when you are here.” He answered easily. It was lucky he was too focused on the road to look back because she blushed… hard.

They walked through the forest that was on the manor grounds until they entered a small clearing. In the center, there was a stone garden gazebo with the fire burning in the center. It definitely gave heat, but little smoke dispersed in the air before it could alert anyone to that location. There were several stone benches inside.

“I found it during one of my… escape attempts when I was younger.” He admitted. “Now I use it as a retreat from my brothers. The herb mixture I use as fuel gives no smoke.”

“Why bring me here?” She asked.

“I just thought that we should enjoy the peace before the hurricane that my brothers become washes over us.”

Mari giggled. “I met your brothers.”

“No. You saw them. I had to live with them for the last five years. They are crazy.”

“It can’t be that bad… right?”

“Last year Todd set the Christmas Tree on fire.” He deadpanned.

“Okay, that might’ve been an accident.” She tried to argue.

“Four years ago Grayson decided to show his acrobatic skill to put a star on the top of the tree. He ended up crashing it on us and the dinner table.”

“It… happens?” She said, but with less conviction.

“Two years ago, Drake decided to surprise Brown and bought her a life-sized statue of them made out of chocolate.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad…”

“Except that insomniac idiot accidentally ordered it made out of chocolate ice cream!”

“Oh…” Marinette didn’t have an answer for that.

“So as I said, they can be a bit much.”

“Don’t worry. I still think it could be worse. My Nona once gave my parents a motorbike with two sidecars as a Christmas gift.”

“Tt. That sounds normal.”

“Except one of them was made as a crib for me. I was one at the time.”

Damian cracked a smile.

“I still think you will thank me for showing you this place.”

“May I remind you that you will all be stuck with my mom for the better part of the exchange. She will keep them in check.” Mari huffed.

“I don’t doubt that.” He pulled his phone and showed her a photo of Sabine standing over Talia. The next one was of unconscious Talia with Tom standing over her with the broken chair.

Mari giggled and she would later swear that Damian laughed a bit. Not that anyone saw them. Well, no human. Alfred the Cat could hardly testify.

------

Masterlist // Next

#arranged marriage AU #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #marinette x damian #maridami #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #guardian!marinette #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #maribat au #miraculous lb #tiger miraculous #miraculous sabine

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ghostfacesvalentine · 4 years

Text

It’s my dad - Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some mention of abuse/overprotective father, some cursing.

Type: One shot

Request: N/A

Word Count: 1538

Prompt: Billy Hargrove helps fen!reader escape home and she ends up being his girl

Notes: I kind of feel like I'm slacking in my writing a lot, but this just kinda popped into my head on the drive home so I hope you enjoy it. It was going to end in smut but maybe another time or a part two maybe??? idk

"I'm not scared of him Y/N" Billy protested as he slung his keys onto the nightstand, you tossed your tattered backpack onto the floor next to the bed and fell back into it. Relief overcame your joints as you looked up to see Billy, his messy hair, chest heaving from the adrenaline rush of your recent escape. "I know you're not, but if he finds me, I don't really know what'll happen." You admitted, you were sick of living at home with your father. There had been so many failed attempts in running away and far too many plans in the making. You tried everything, bus, trains, cars, even an airplane, but nothing was successful to your luck. Your father would always find you and it wasn't even like he had to try hard, you weren't the best at planning.

Each time you were caught, you were defeated more and more each day. He took away all your privileges, it was so frustrating. You were never walking to school with bruises or cuts, but this was all psychological. Your dad would tell you he's just looking out for you, or he's protecting you, but this wasn't normal and it was getting hard to breathe. This was your junior year of high school and you had absolutely no freedom. It was all helpless until a shiny blue camero revved up into the Hawkings high school parking lot. There was no way you stood a chance, there just wasn't. Still, you had Billy in history class and you caught his attention fast. After only a few weeks of hanging out you were making out under the stairwell, skipping class with him, mostly in his car. You didn't make much mention of your dad and he didn't really ask. It didn't come up until a few months into this little fling, he said he'd pick you up at eight. You would always put him off, using lame excuses about school work or that you weren't feeling well, eventually you said you just weren't feeling like it. Billy wasn't used to rejection and he didn't take to this kindly. "Alright so what the fuck is it? What's the deal? I'm just wasting my time or what." He sneered as you jolted when he slammed his car door shut. In defeat you looked down, hugging your books, pursing your lips you avoided his eyes. "Earth to Y/N." He snapped, visibly frustrated. "It's my dad Billy." You explained to him everything, absolutely everything. You didn't have many close friends to unravel in front of and so this all just poured out of you. Before you knew it tears were rushing out of your eyes, hot streams flowed through your cheeks as you took everything out of your chest. You didn't think Billy would care, but at least he'd know why you were putting him off. Rubbing the back of your hand across your cheeks, still avoiding eye contact, you could feel Billy just staring at you. Through the blurry vision, you could make out a frown, the bell had rung some time ago, the parking lot was empty, the cool breeze hit your exposed skin. You wanted to run and hide, but where to. Billy pulled you into a hug when you fell silent, trying to steady your breathing, he didn't let you pull away until you eased. "So your dad's a dick. You could've told me this before." He uttered, looking down to you, cradling your face between his hands, your eyes red and puffy as they looked up to him.

Now you were in a hotel room, in the same position, cradled between Billy's hands. "He's not going to come get you, he'll be dead before he takes a step into the room." It seemed like he almost promised. You were still taken aback as to how far Billy had gone for you. It had been weeks you were planning this with him. You packed up all your valuables, anything that could be replaced was left behind. Traveling lightly was key according to Billy. He parked at the end of your street at two a.m flickering the lights of his car four times. The week before he had snuck over to pry the screen off the outside of your window for tonight. He struggled a bit, but it came off, making it easier to slide out onto the lawn. When you plopped onto the dewy grass you stood still for a second, waiting for your dad's shadow to appear and your heart to fall to your stomach, but there was nothing. So you made a run for it.

You ran like you never have before, you almost slipped a few times but eventually made it into the car, Billy didn't take long to speed off.

"Thank you for helping me Billy." You winced as he pressed his lips down onto yours, walking you back slowly. The back of your knees hit the bed, causing you to fall back. Billy held himself up on top of you, pressing his lips against yours over and over. His lips tasted like peppermint gum and cigarettes, he smelt like cologne and smoke. You were intoxicated by his warmth.

You were still paranoid your door would come flying down, but you knew you could hide behind Billy. He pulled his head up to look down at you, his eyes meeting yours, noses barely touching

"What?" You whispered, frowning gently as he took a moment. He shook his head slightly, kissing your nose. He was progressively gentler, opening up slowly, you never expected this from him, only thinking yourself to be another girl of his, but it wasn't like he's done anything like this for anyone else no?

"You're safe Y/N. I promise. If we gotta keep running, then we will, but I'm not letting you out of my sight." He comforted as he kissed the top of your head. He slid onto the side of the bed, rolling you over onto his arms which you happily snuggled into. His hands flowed down to your sides, pulling you closer to him.

"Billy." You whispered again.

"Yeah?" He responded.

Your eyes opened and stared into his shirt "Why are you doing this, you could get in trouble you know." You wondered out loud. It was a real question. You liked Billy, you liked him a lot, but you were never sure if he felt the same way, not to the extent you did at least.

There was some silence for a second, you began to regret speaking until Billy interrupted your thoughts.

"I've never felt more at home with anyone, you know you started to push me away, find every excuse known to man to avoid seeing me, I thought you were seeing someone else for a while... or maybe that I wasn't good enough for you.. and that crushed me."

You could feel his chest tense up at the last pair of words.

Pulling your head out of the embrace to look at him, you frowned staring at him "No BIlly, it's not like that at all. I never knew if you were serious about, whatever this is, I don't know. Every girl in Hawkins has been all over you since you stepped foot in this town, I thought I was just another girl but, I haven't really seen you do anything this... crazy for anyone. Not that I know of."

You kind of regretted saying that, he could've of course replied by mentioning things he's done for other girls, but he didn't. Instead he took your head into his hands and pulled you in for a kiss, then another one and another one. Once you were out of breath, dazed and mesmerized, your eyes met him.

"Y/N. I've never done anything like this for anyone. I care for you, I want you to be my girl, I don't wanna see you hurt in the hands of anyone." He admitted with a soothing sleepy voice. "I mean it." You could only stare at him for a moment, it could be sudden, a few months in, but you didn't have this kind of softness or care from any of your exes, much less your dad.

"Do you wanna be my girl Y/N? Sweet face don't leave me hanging."

That cracked a smile in your face, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly. "Of course Billy I'd like to be your girl." A smile swooshed across both of your faces, laying there for a few seconds before BIlly broke the embrace and sat up "Come on sweetheart we gotta get ready for bed, I'm beat."

You sat up after him, he began to slide his clothing off, grabbing the tv remote and turning the box on. You scrambled through your bag looking for a tank top and some shorts to slide on. "Look at that, movie night." He grinned as he slid the remote onto the nightstand.

You smiled wide as you climbed back into his arms under the covers, you were exhausted and all you really wanted was to sleep and what better sleep than in Billy Hargrove's arms.

#Billy Hargrove #Stranger Things #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billy Hargrove one shot

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nolaimagines · 4 years

Text

Invisible

Request: I’m a sucker for a neglected child of one of the Mikaelsons. If you feel like it, would you be able to write something where no one really pays attention to the reader and doesn’t notice when they go out and one day the parent goes out with one of the other Mikaelsons around the town and sees the reader playing music with her friends/band outside and the parent realizes how little they know about their kid and tries to do better? You don’t have to. That was quite a lot so I get it

Notes// Hope you enjoy it! I am a little rusty in the writing skills.

“So does anyone want to go to this jazz concert tonight at Rosseau’s?” You asked, scrolling through your phone.

Your parents, Aunts and Uncles looked at each other.

“No love, I have better things to do like keeping this family alive.” Klaus retorted.

Elijah sighed fixing his suit and following your Dad, “And I need to ensure Niklaus doesn’t go to the unknown extremes. How about you, Rebekah?”

Rebekah scrunched up her nose, “No, not my taste.”

“You know what? Forget it. I will go by myself!” You let out a sarcastic laugh, grabbed your jacket and walked out the door, shoving your Dad out of the way.

You tapped the glass continuously with your nails, as you sat at the bar downing what must be your third drink.

“You might want to slow down, love.” A voice came from beside you.

You looked to your left and came into contact with probably the most gorgeous man you ever laid eyes on, “I…probably should but who is here to stop me?” You smirked and downed the rest of the drink, and signalling the bartender for your fourth drink.

The man chuckled, “Well…let me at least buy you a drink. I promise I am not a creep and I have no other intention other than enjoying the music…with you if that’s okay?”

You smiled, finally pleased that someone was taking an interest in you. Even if he turned out to want to kill you, you knew how to look after yourself, “That sounds perfect.” You signalled the bartender for a drink for your new friend, “What’s your name?”

“Aiden.” He smiled.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled before seeing his face change, “What is it?”

“It’s just…I know of your family. Will they be okay with you hanging out with me?” Aiden took a small sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, “They don’t care what I do, and if they by chance start caring now, I won’t let them hurt you.”

Aiden frowned, “Why don’t they care-“

“Touchy subject, let’s enjoy the music and dance the night away.” You smiled and held out your hand.

Aiden smiled and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.

You smiled and laughed to yourself, hugging your jacket to yourself as you closed the front door to your house. You glanced at your family as you went into the kitchen to get yourself some water. They hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge you were home. You let out a sad sigh before heading up to your bedroom, changing and getting into bed.

“Thank you for a lovely night. I had the best time. Hope we can do this again sometime soon. Xx” – Aiden

You smile grew bigger reading the text. You had the best night of your life, and you felt seen. It was just unfortunate it wasn’t by your family.

“I know another small Jazz event happening outside of town at the weekend. We can even learn to play the saxophone! I’ll call you tomorrow, goodnight xx”

--At the weekend—

You threw another dress on the bed, frustrated you couldn’t find the perfect dress. You pushed each garment across the rail before coming across the perfect dress. It was knee length, floral print with a sweetheart neckline. Perfect you thought to yourself. Loosely brushing out your blonde curls, you grabbed your purse and went downstairs.

“Byeg guys, I’ll see you on Sunday evening…” You started to explain your plans but quickly realised that no one was listening.

You rushed out the door, to Aiden who was waiting in his car for you.

You couldn’t help but smile. You have only known this guy 4 days and yet you felt like best friends.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Elijah’s voice called out from behind you.

You waved your arms and laughed as you got into the car, “Bye Elijah!”

Elijah frowned as you and Aiden drove off before grabbing his own car keys.

You through your head back in laughter, “I can’t do it. I don’t have the strength!”

Aiden smiled, and gave the Saxophone back to the musician, “It’ll come with practice. We’ll be here all weekend anyway. Just let her catch her breath for a second.”

You took a deep breath in an attempt to pull yourself together, “That was hilarious.”

Aiden laughed with you and handed you your drink, “It was quite entertaining watching you try.” He teased.

You fake pouted, and took a sip of your drink, “No need to show off.”

Aiden smiled, “This might be too forward but may I kiss you?”

You looked at Aiden in complete surprise, “I…yes you may.”

Aiden smiled before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You kissed back, placing your hand on his neck, deepening the kiss before pulling away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ You started but Aiden cut you off with a kiss, more passionate than the first.

You moaned into the kiss tugging at his shirt by the collar. Aiden chuckled, “Slow down, we have the whole weekend.”

“And more…it’s not like I can play the saxophone after that kiss.” You were completely breathless.

Aiden smiled, “One more dance, and then we can go elsewhere.”

You nodded and took his hand, once again following him to the dancefloor.

You opened the door to your home, after waving goodbye to Aiden.

“Who was that?” Elijah’s voice broke your thoughts.

You rolled your eyes and closed the door, “My boyfriend. You dare even think about hurting him, and I will dagger you myself.”

“That’s my threat love, though it’s good to see you’re taking after me.” Klaus appeared from behind.

“What’s going on?” You crossed your arms across your chest.

“We wanted to know where you were.” Klaus responded, “You can’t just disappear like that.”

“Yes I can. Since when did you care anyway? Everything I do, you don’t want to know about it! Everyday I tell you my plans, but all of you ignore me. It’s like you don’t care. Am I even part of this family?!” You were so upset by the accusations, let alone being forgotten about by your own family.

“Of course you are! You are my daughter. I care about your whereabouts, and what you are doing.”

“Okay, fine. If you care about me, tell me where I was every day of this week.” You leant back on the door.

Klaus sighed, “You…you were with your friends at school…studying as you always do.”

Even this made Elijah frown.

You groaned, “I graduated last year, I haven’t been to school over a year! You don’t care! You never do, and you never will. But it’s okay, because I am used to it! If you must know, I was at Jazz festivals all this week with my boyfriend Aiden. If any of you even lay a finger on him, I will make you all regret it!”

You push yourself off the door, before Klaus grabbed your arm, “Love…I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you feel not a part of this family…I care about you more than anyone in this house. I will make more effort to know what you are doing and what you like. I don’t want you feeling anything different.”

You sighed, “I’d like to see that happen before I believe it entirely.”

#klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson imagine #klaus x reader #Elijah x reader #the originals imagine #the originals #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine

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dhundertale · 2 years

Text

Best Friends for Lonely Times

Authors note: MK uses they/he pronouns in DH. Usually they/them, but he/him on occasion.

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

Frisk was known for asking too many questions. The questions weren’t typically educational, either. They were usually personal or even philosophical.

“If atoms make up everything, does that mean they make up hopes and dreams?”

“If God is real, how did He come to exist?”

“Do I have any grandparents, Papa Asgore?”

“How long did the previous humans stay with you, Mama?”

The questions were next-to-never-ending. The fourteen-year-old seemed to never be satisfied with the knowledge they had. They were known to eavesdrop, snoop around people’s things, ask so many questions ones brain would begin to melt.

Most people tried to gently push them to find answers elsewhere. Sometimes, when their questions got a little too invasive, they got a gentle scolding.

One person, however, never seemed to have an issue with their questioning. In fact, he would sit with them for hours upon hours, asking questions back and forth, and both trying their best to answer one another.

His name? MK. Also known by many as “Monster Kid,” though Frisk knew their true full name is “Mikid” or “Mike.” But they were best known as MK, by friends and family alike.

One day, while having a question-session (as MK had lovingly decided to title it), Frisk slipped out with a question they immediately regretted.

“Why don’t I ever see your parents?”

Frisk didn’t even want to ask it, honestly. They were scared of the answer they may have received; scared that, like them, MK also lived a life of fear under their parents’ shadows.

But he didn’t miss a beat, answering as soon as the question came off Frisk’s lips. Their voice was a bit sad with the answer, though.

“My parents are like, way busy, yo! They’d love to meet you though, haha!”

And that’s when the topic became main conversation.

“Where are they? Why are they busy?” Frisk followed up, leaning in on MK’s shoulder, in an attempt to lessen their sadness, to which he leaned against them in return. Both the kids blushed at the contact, and MK cleared their throat before their next answer.

“My dad is like, super cool! He’s a doctor, haha!”

Frisk couldn’t help the smile that swept over their face at that response. Being a doctor was something Celest proudly announced she wanted to do when she was a kid. Frisk still hoped, that somewhere in Celest’s mind, that dream wasn’t forgotten.

“That’s really cool!”

“Yo, I know! And my mom, she does construction! Shes been even more busy than we were underground! Way more houses to make, haha!”

“They both sound really nice!” Frisk exclaimed, pulling MK into a tight hug, “Are you cool cuz you got their cool-genes, or is that all you?

MK turned bright red, their tail furiously flicking around in excitement and flusterment, “Haha, yooo, its all me!! I’m way cooler than my parents! No offense to them, haha!”

Frisk laughed and planted kisses all over his face, avoiding only his lips, as they responded heartily “Hell yeah! You’re a cool little dracan, always protecting lil-ol-princess me~!”

They growled in response, huffing out a little bit of fire, “Yeah!! I’ll protect ya from anything, dude!”

They both laughed, collapsing into the grass together. His tail wrapped around their waist, and Frisk settled their head into MK’s chest.

“Do you wish they were around more?”

MK sighed, shrugging, “Yo, I don’t know. I just miss em sometimes. They used to be around a lot, now they just aren’t, y’know?”

Frisk understood that feeling. They could still remember when Celest was home on a daily basis, always to watch over them, day and night, protecting them from all dangers…and they could remember the day she began to fade away at night, little by little, until Frisk was left hopeless in the dark hours, prey to the predators roaming the place they were supposed to see as “home.”

“Yeah…I think I understand. If you’re ever feeling lonely at home, you can come stay at mine, okay? You’re always welcome to come hang with me.”

MK blushed and looked aside, “Yo, that’s really uh, cool. I’ll definitely do that, haha. Make sure Mrs Toriel has enough pie for me, alright?”

Frisk chuckled, “Of course! I’ve always got your back, dude.”

“Haha, yeah! We’re like, a duo!”

‘A couple,’ Frisk wanted to say, but they didn’t have the confidence to say it yet. They didn’t want to risk the rejection that so often tagged along with a statement like that. Besides, MK as a friend was more than they felt they deserved anyways. He was just…so cool. Too cool for them.

Silence fell between the two, as the sky turned orange, and the sun grew low. It wasn’t until

Frisk was about to ask MK if they had to go home, that they realized he had fallen asleep. Of course, Frisk wouldn’t wake them. Frisk simply stood up, before gently lifting them into their arms, and beginning the walk to his house.

They would always carry him home, if they so needed it.

Always.

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years

Note

To the anon who requested the school prompts; I attempted to write something about a parent-teacher meeting, but I couldn’t come up with a believable way for both Freddie and Jim to attend, given that Freddie would draw way too much attention. I hope you don’t mind if I skip that one. Here’s your request for Freddie picking up Khaleel from school!

Part 36 of Jimercury Kid series

‘Fucking vultures.’ Freddie muttered under his breath, as he sat with Kashmira in her car and observed the small group of journalists who had gathered at the corner of the street opposite Khaleel’s school.

They always hung around there, holding out hope that the little boy might walk through the gates, and they would finally be able to snap a picture of his face to put on the front page of their shitty tabloids. But they were wasting their time. Special arrangements had been made to ensure that Khaleel always exited the school from the back of the building, where Jim or Terry would be waiting to pick him up. By the time the vermin from News of the World had set up their cameras, their target was long gone.

The school run was something that Freddie had always longed to be involved in. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he just couldn’t help it. He wanted to be able to sit in the car and wait for his little boy to come bouncing through the back doors and into his arms. He wanted to help Khaleel put his seatbelt on and laugh when the child insisted he was a big boy and could do it himself. He wanted to sit in the passenger seat, Khaleel’s bookbag and lunchbox balanced on his lap while his bijou excitedly chatted away about what he got up to in class that day, while Jim turned on the radio and made faces at their son through the rear-view mirror.

He wanted to do what every other parent did. But he couldn’t, because he knew wherever he went the paparazzi would be hot on his tail. All sorts of rumours were still circulating in the press about Kenny’s origins. Some still believed he was the secret lovechild of Freddie and Mary, others reported that he was the result of a one-night stand with a fan and perhaps the worst was a statement made by an anonymous “inside source,” who claimed Freddie had purchased him from the Middle East for over fifty million Indian rupees.

He had resigned himself to the reality that there were some things in Khaleel’s life that he would just have to miss out on. Like end-of-year plays, and parent-teacher meetings, and taking the boy to and from school.

That was until Kash had came up with a rather genius idea.

Freddie’s private car would be easily noticed by the paparazzi. But hers wouldn’t.

‘There he goes.’ Freddie said as the Volvo in front of them pulled away from the pavement and began driving towards the back entrance of the school. ‘Be ready, Kash.’

‘Feels like bloody Mission Impossible.’ Kash laughed, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. ‘I don’t know how you put up with this every day. Why didn’t you just save yourself the trouble and stick to painting?’

Freddie chuckled despite himself. ‘Sometimes I wonder.’

He was glad they could still have conversations like this. They had briefly fallen out of contact after the whole ordeal with social services, but Freddie quickly realised that Kashmira wasn’t the one at fault and she had proved her loyalty to him by telling the truth. Even if they weren’t children anymore, defying their parents was no easy feat and poor Kash was withstanding the worst of the fallout.

‘How are they?’ Freddie asked quietly, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear him. But he should have known better; nothing got past his sister.

‘Not good.’ She replied, still looking out towards the road. ‘They keep asking after you, wanting to know if you’re alright. They ask about Khaleel a lot as well. I never know what to say.’

Freddie felt his jaw clench instinctively. ‘Tell them the truth. It’s been two years and he still has nightmares about what happened. He’s still scared to be left alone and can’t stand to be away from us for too long. It was months before he would go into school without clinging to Jim and begging him not to leave. Dr Atkinson says it may affect him for the rest of his life. You tell them that next time they have the nerve to ask you how Khaleel is doing.’

Kash sighed, glancing down at her hands which were gripping the steering wheel. ‘They really regret what they did, Freddie.’

Freddie rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t start, Kash. If you expect me to forgive them-’

‘No, I don’t.’ His sister cut in, her voice eerily calm. ‘If they had done that to Nathalie and Jamal, I wouldn’t forgive them either. I’m not questioning your decision. I just…’ her hands tightened around the wheel a moment as she lost herself in thought, ‘…I need you to know that they’re truly sorry. I know their apologies mean nothing at this point, but they’re not trying to justify their decisions anymore. They’ve accepted that they did a terrible thing and brought everything that’s happened upon themselves. They’re not asking for forgiveness; they just need you to know that they realise they were wrong.’

Freddie hadn’t anticipated such an answer. He was dumbstruck for a moment, tongue retreating behind his teeth as he allowed her words to sink in. As much as he would deny it, there was still a part of him that longed for the company of his mother and father again; he still found himself lingering by the phone on occasion, half hoping they might call or listening for the buzz of the intercom in case they decided to drop by. Knowing that they were truly sorry didn’t make the pain go away but it did give him an odd sense of comfort.

Before he could respond, he saw the Volvo pulling out onto the road ahead, slowly turning the corner until it was out of sight.

‘Here we go.’ A grin spread across Kash’s face as she belted herself in. ‘Keep your head down.’

Freddie ducked out of view as they passed the huddle of reporters, raising his hand to flip them off before sitting up straight in his seat while Kash cackled like a hyena. They drove up the street and turned the corner where the Volvo was sitting waiting for them.

‘Thank you, Kash.’ Freddie said gently, knowing they only had a limited amount of time before the rest of the students came pouring out onto the street. The last thing he needed was to be chased by a gang of schoolchildren at his age. ‘For this, and for telling me how Mama and Papa are. I appreciate it.’

Kashmira smiled at him, though it looked rather strained. ‘You’re welcome.’ Then she added, almost nervously. ‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Yes.’ Freddie replied, voice almost catching in his throat. ‘I know. I love you too.’

He opened the car door and went to step out, glancing over at the Volvo where Khaleel was sitting in the backseat, bouncing excitedly at the sight of his Baba. Freddie hesitated a moment, before turning to Kash again. ‘Why don’t you and Roger come over for dinner tonight? Bring the kids with you?’

Kashmira’s dark eyes batted in surprise, but she didn’t look displeased. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Jim’s making shepherd's pie tonight and he always makes too much, so…’ He shrugged in a rather lukewarm effort to display indifference, when in fact his heart was hammering painfully. To his relief, Kash smiled.

‘That sounds perfect. I’d love to come.’

‘About six ’clock?’

‘We’ll be there.’

Freddie nodded, the tightness in his chest finally ceasing to be. He wandered if he should embrace her, but decided he wasn’t quite ready for that step and simply said, ‘see you later,’ before shutting the door and making his way over to the Volvo.

‘Baba!’ Khaleel cried as soon as Freddie was near, and he rolled his window down so Freddie could poke his head through and start covering him in kisses. ‘You came, you came!’

‘Yes, I did!’ Freddie blew a raspberry into the child’s neck, making him squeal. ‘We better take you home and get your homework finished – Auntie Kash and your cousins are coming over for dinner.’

Khaleel’s blue-green eyes went wide with joy. ‘Are Dādī and Dādā coming too?’

Freddie’s smile disappeared and he briefly made eye contact with Jim, before saying, ‘I’m sorry, darling. Dādī and Dādā are very busy.’

Khaleel crossed his arms and pouted, ‘they’re always busy.’

‘I know…’ That familiar tightness returned to Freddie's chest, squeezing until it almost hurt to breathe. ‘But let’s not think about that now. Daddy’s making shepherd’s pie, and if you finish your homework on time, you can help him stir the pot.’

This seemed to put the boy in good spirits again and he spent the majority of the car ride chatting away to Freddie about his day as Jim drove them home, careful to keep themselves scarce from any prying eyes. When Khaleel eventually trailed off and turned his attention to the contents of his bookbag, Jim glanced at his husband in the passenger seat and murmured, ‘are you sure you’re okay having Kash over tonight?’

Freddie took a deep breath, staring out the window at the people passing by, not really caring if he was recognised. ‘I can hardly go about the rest of my life pretending she doesn’t exist.’

When this didn’t earn the chuckle he had anticipated, he sighed. ‘None of this is Kash's fault. I know she could have told me sooner about Mama and Papa calling social services, but what matters is that she did tell me. She chose me over them, which must have been the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. I’ve already lost most of my family, I don’t need to lose anymore. It's time to make peace.’

Jim nodded wordlessly, reaching over and gently grasping Freddie’s hand. ‘I’m really proud of you, sweetheart.’

Freddie lifted the Irishman's hand to kiss his knuckles. ‘Thank God somebody is, darling.’

This was a perfect mix of sweet and angsty. Lol at the beginning I thought it'll be about our dads picking their baby up from school and being all cute and adorable, then BAM, came the angst. But I absolutely loved it!

Someone recently asked in the notes of one your drabbles about any lingering trauma that Khaleel feels at this point in the series. I think they've got their answer now. It's plausible really, for a child to experience the after-effects of being so harshly separated from his parents. I can only imagine how painful it must've been for the real Freddie to be isolated from his parents at such a young age. Poor baby.

I am glad Kash and Freddie are mending their relationship. I often get the feeling that Kash was never too involved in Freddie's life, but had Freddie survived his illness, it's possible that they may have grown closer. In the context of what has happened in this universe specifically, it'll be a while before they're completely comfortable with each other. But I am glad that Freddie is making an effort.

The end was so sweet, my heart. The perfect end to all the angst💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #anon writing #freddie and jim and their baby

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badbhye · 5 years

Text

feels like summer (m)

You only have one question on your mind this summer: when did Jeon Jungkook get abs?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: neighbor au, smut, fluff, angst (if u squint)

warnings: alcohol mention, drinking, explicit sexual content; voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, dom/sub-themes, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (m/f receiving), throat fucking, cum play, grinding, gagging, oc has a muscle kink, jungkook’s character doing a whole 180 halfway through the plot

word count: 16.6k

A/N: This was originally written for the BSC Drabble Exchange and obviously I’m two months late...but also....this spiraled out of drabble territory so fast. But to the person who originally requested this, I hope you see it and enjoy it! Please don’t forget to send in some feedback, and I apologize for any mistakes!

"You're drooling a little there," Yoongi mumbles, nudging your arm.

"Will you shut up," you glare, trying to focus on the article you're supposed to be reviewing but it's difficult. How can you focus on Market Upheavals when Jeon Jungkook is doing pull-ups in his backyard.

You don't know how it happened but when you came back home from college one fine day, Jungkook had just changed. He wasn't just the kid who stuck to your brother like a second skin, following him around like a lost puppy anymore. He had grown up. A little too much, you think to yourself when he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat that had collected on his forehead. You think you're mistaken, but you catch him looking right where you're sitting, and when he does, you have to hold back the jolt of shivers that threaten to go down your spine.

"Hey, hyung," he calls, waving his hand to Yoongi before making his way over the short fence. "I wanted to ask if I could go over some of my compositions with you later."

"Yeah, stop by sometime before 8, my shift starts at 11," Yoongi responds without looking up from his phone. Jungkook lets out a non-committal hum in acknowledgment before he leans over to you, invading your personal space so all you can see is his sweaty torso. Your eyes budge at the way his muscles flex and follow the way a drop of sweat trails down the side of his jaw, down to his neck. He's so close you can feel his breath on your skin, his eyes noting your reactions and you swear you see a corner of his lips twitch. "Noona," he says, voice lower than normal. Your eyes jolt to meet his own, mouth suddenly very dry.

"You're sitting on my towel," he points towards the offending cloth placed snugly between the dock chair and your thighs.

"Oh," you let out, voice uncharacteristically weak but you comply nonetheless, moving so he can slide it out from under you. He grazes the skin of your thigh lightly, and you know he's doing it on purpose. You don't know when he got so bold, last time you were home he'd barely even look at you for more than a minute before he was reduced to a blushing, stuttering mess.

But that was two summers ago and the scrawny, awkward boy you used to know is no longer there.

All too soon, he shuffles back as if the interaction never happened. You're ashamed enough to peek a glance at Yoongi, who is still focused on his phone. If he noticed anything, he's feigning ignorance which you're thankful for. When Jungkook's done obnoxiously drying off the sweat off his body, going as far as to take off his shirt completely and flinging the flimsy cloth on his shoulder as he finishes drying his hair. You're left in utter shock, shamelessly ogling his movements, especially the way his shoulder blades flex with every shift of his arms. When he bids goodbye to Yoongi with a promise to meet up later, he turns once more to catch your gaze. His expression dancing with playful mirth, "Bye, noona!" He calls, almost sweetly, and you gulp. When he's gone, you feel like you can finally breathe again, you turn towards the dreaded article you should have been done analyzing by now when you notice Yoongi's eyes on you.

"What do you want?" You say, not sparing him a glance.

"You know..." he yawns a little, almost bored. "I really didn't need to see you and Jeon eye-fucking each other like that," moving to leave his spot on the adjacent dock chair.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you try to busy yourself once again but the flush of your cheeks gives you away. Plus, it's Yoongi. You could never hide anything from him, even if you wanted to.

"Please," he rolls his eyes. "Cut the crap, you think I don't know about your little crush on him?"

You can't help but sputter at his blunt words though it shouldn't be surprising to you anymore. He doesn't wait on you to answer him before he makes his way back inside and you try to focus on your work again — the keyword being try.

The list of work you'd made when you were feeling especially productive glares at you from your desk. Clearly, the thought of being ahead in your classes, or even catching up to your current courses was not something you'd be able to pull off this time. The reason for this belated realization: Jeon Jungkook. It wasn't as if you weren't used to him being at your house all the time, you'd practically grown up together. Well, in the neighborly sense. He never spent too much time with you, opting to accompany Yoongi instead. You always wondered whether the boy had an issue with you, maybe he just didn’t like you. It never bothered you too much, you had eventually brushed it off because you had your own thing going on. It wasn't until high school that you and Yoongi's social circles merged but Jungkook still kept his distance.

But now, it's like he's always there. Always in your field of vision. It's not like you try to seek him out (you tell yourself) but it's like he knows where you'll be. It's almost domestic seeing him help your mother bring in the groceries or mowing the yard for your father. And when you pass by him, he always makes sure to acknowledge you, and boy, do you. Ever since he's grown out of his lanky body and filled out a bit more, he's started wearing more form-fitting clothes. Like the white shirt, he's wearing right now. He's been watering the plants in his backyard and because of the heat today washed himself off too. You're conveniently sitting on your porch, laptop in tow but you're not working. How can you when you have the perfect view of how the material of his shirt sticks to his abdomen. The only question in your mind right now is when did Jungkook get abs? You haven't been away from home for that long... or maybe you just didn't notice before. Just then, he lifts his wet shirt over his head and you find it impossible that you couldn't have noticed. And you swear he maintains eye contact with you when he does it, the fucker even has the audacity to smirk.

The silent staring contest is shattered when Yoongi comes out, probably trying to sneak a smoke before your mom gets home.

"I really can't get a moment of peace, can I?" He settles against the porch railing, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

You and me both, you begrudgingly think but you keep that thought to yourself, forcing your eyes away from Jungkook to look at Yoongi instead.

"What's up?" You ask, concern evident in your voice. Yoongi wasn't one to complain.

He takes a long drag. "They're giving me overtime for the entire week...won't have time to compose."

You frown, Yoongi barely had any free time on his hands. He worked at the local radio station during the dead hours of the night along with helping out your mom with any housework and composing music whenever he could on top of it all. You feel terrible because you're barely home because of college and you know that's affected Yoongi. You're aware that he most likely regrets dropping out but you know it wasn't his calling. He was wasting his talents by sticking to studying business so you still support his decision. But, maybe staying home wasn't as good as you thought it would be for him. If you could take his place, you would in a heartbeat but you know he'd never let you. He was always like that.

"If you need any help..." You offer, but you know your attempt is futile, "I can take mom out for errands when I'm here."

"Do you think she'll let you drive Petunia?" He laughs, putting out the cigarette before he's even done smoking half of it.

"I'm good at driving," you defend yourself. You admit you were never the best driver but you had gotten your license fair and square.

"I'm happy you want to help," your mother says placing heaps of food onto a plate she especially prepared for Jungkook. "But I'd rather you not drive my car."

You glare at Yoongi when he laughs at your expense.

"I have a license," you remind them quickly but all it does is give a non-committal hum from your mother. It’s rather embarrassing to have your family ridicule your driving skills, especially when Jungkook’s joined you for dinner tonight.

“I’m happy to help out,” Jungkook meekly pipes in. “I drive my dad’s truck for errands all the time, so it won’t be an issue.”

“You’re such a helpful young boy, any girl would be lucky to snatch you up,” your mother coos, ruffling his hair causing him to let out a small laugh, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s too busy trying to keep your mother from adding even more food onto his plate.

The subject on your part, unfortunately, is dropped for the moment and you angrily eat the rest of your dinner.

A couple of days go by and you've forgotten about the whole thing altogether. You find yourself busy with yet another reading you had until you hear your mom come through the front door.

"Just set these here, sweetie," she motions towards the counter in the kitchen. And in tow, you see none other than Jungkook carrying three big bags of groceries with such ease. You don't know if you're jealous that he can carry that much in one go when it probably would take you two trips, but you can't lie and say you didn't just ogle at the way the muscles of his arms flex.

"So, they said the shipment of those Torx screwdrivers were coming in at 4, so they should have them by now," your mother informs him while she's unloading the fresh produce.

"Ah, I can go now then," Jungkook responds, putting the cereal away. By spending so much time here, he'd become to familiarise himself with how things were in your house. He probably had a whole system set up by the way he was moving so quickly. You manage to bring your focus back to your work successfully, although it proves to be a difficult feat. It isn't until you hear your mother call out your name that your focus breaks once more.

"___," she repeats, coming into the living room where you're seated. "I need you to go run some errands with Jungkook."

Your head whips up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. "H-huh? Didn't you just get the groceries?"

Your mother pins you with a look that indicates not to ask questions. "You said you wanted to help out around the house."

The complaint that threatens to spill out is quickly stopped in its tracks when you see the expectant look on Jungkook's face when he peeks in from the kitchen. Your resolve is so easy to break. You huff, roughly putting away your books before you go to put on some shoes — you can't look too eager now.

It's silent in the car for a couple of minutes, but it's a long drive. Leave it to your mom to stay loyal to the hardware store that's all the way across town. It's a little awkward sitting in close quarters with Jungkook after the way you've been thinking about him these days...you almost feel guilty. So, you focus on the radio instead, listening to whatever mindless pop song that plays next. It's when Jungkook clears his throat when he's stopped at the red light, slowly lowering the volume of the radio that you're reminded of your situation. You're alone with Jungkook.

"So," he begins, eyeing you briefly, "How have you been, noona?"

You peer over at him, "Oh...um same old, I guess."

He hums, "...Are you still seeing uh, Joonho?"

"Junho," you correct him. "And no, we split after he graduated."

"Oh good," he mumbles under his breath but backtracks immediately when he realizes you heard him. "Ah, I mean I hope you're doing good after the split..."

"Nice save," you chuckle as he rubs the shell of his ears nervously. "I'm fine," you clarify, eyeing the radio. "It was a mutual decision."

When he doesn't respond, you sigh, moving to turn up the volume again so you don't have to deal with the silence. Jungkook's just doing your mom a favor anyway, it's not like he wants to be alone with you.

Soon enough, you become hyper-aware of the fact that Jungkook is in the car with you and god, why did the hardware store have to be all the way across town? You stare at him from the corner of your eye but have to stop yourself when your thoughts start going south once again.

"So," you clear your throat, talking loud enough so he can hear you over the radio. "How have you been?" You redirect his question back to him. "How's college been?"

"Oh, um," Jungkook stammers a bit as if he's embarrassed. "I'm thinking of dropping out..."

You shut the radio at that and turn to face him completely, "Why?"

He looks over to you at your bluntness. "Huh?"

"Jeon Jungkook, please don't tell me you're dropping out because Yoongi did," you accuse, sounding almost angry.

"Noona, how could you think so lowly of me?" He pouts. "It was just something I was thinking about," he admits, turning to park the car.

"This isn't something you can just do, Jungkook," you explain. "It's a big decision that has real consequences...have you talked to anyone about this?"

"No..." he mumbles, "You're the first one to know."

You sigh, putting a hand on his knee. Immediately, he stiffens under your hold so you begin to move away but he quickly takes a hold of your hand before you can. There's silence for a minute until you very awkwardly clear your throat.

"Jungkook," you begin, "Are you happy?"

"What do you mean?" His eyes widen at your very personal question.

"I mean...are you happy with what you're doing, is it your own decision or did something happen?" You switch your words around because you realize Jungkook probably wouldn't want to tell you something as personal as this.

He stays silent for a while, contemplating what to say, his eyes not leaving your hands, he intertwines his fingers with yours without thought. Your breath hitches but you don't pull away...it feels nice.

"I don't know," he admits, a little wistfully.

You frown and wait for him to continue, thumb rubbing soothing circles on his hand.

"I just think I'm doing something wrong, wasting my father's money...especially after-" he catches himself before he can tell you the extent of his problems. Clearing his throat, he looks away but doesn't let go of your hand. "It's nothing," he concludes.

"It isn't nothing," you defend him. "Jungkook, I understand if you're uncomfortable with me because we've never been close, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?" You pass a reassuring smile at him. "I care about you a lot, you're like a...brother to me."

You feel gross lying to him like that but you need to put your needs aside, Jungkook's wellbeing is way more important than some sexual fantasy. But to your surprise, he doesn't respond the way you thought he would, at most you expected him to shyly laugh. Instead, his brows furrow, and he frowns. He doesn't say anything, just lets go of your hand and moves to get out of the car. You don't dwell on it too much because just then you receive a text from your mother.

Honey, I forgot the coffee your brother likes, would you please grab it on your way back?

"Hey, I'm going next door," you call out to Jungkook as you get out of the car. You're a little thankful that you don't have to be next to Jungkook because, right now, all you can think of the way he reacted. It was probably the most aggravated you'd seen him react in such close quarters. You quickly grab the brand of coffee Yoongi prefers and continue to browse the aisles of the store, not really paying attention to what you're looking at.

"Can't decide between boxers or briefs?" Jungkook chuckles and you flush a deep crimson.

You hadn't realized you were staring at men's underwear.

"...It's for Yoongi?" You grimace, already regretting your words as you're saying them.

Jungkook bursts into loud laughter, nose scrunching and all. You can't help but smile at that, glad that the tension has ebbed away.

"Okay, the jig is up!" You raise your hands in surrender. "...I wear men's underwear."

"That's sexy, noona," Jungkook grins leaning down so the two of you are eye to eye.

Your laugh dies in your throat because, once again, you find Jungkook in your personal space. You can't stop the way you inhale sharply, eyeing at how close his lips are to your own. He's so close, you can feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours on his too. It feels like forever before he moves back, but not before his own eyes fall down to your lips. The corners of his lips lightly lift in a smile smiles before he breaks the moment and walks towards the counter. You meekly follow behind, clutching the coffee tightly in your grasp, mind still reeling from what just happened.

You're dazed. The ride back doesn't even seem that long compared to the ride there. You lean back on your seat, head leaning against the window, focusing on the low hum of the music.

"You're wrong, noona," Jungkook says after a couple of silent minutes go by. You peer at him in question, silently urging him to continue.

"I'm not uncomfortable with you," he turns to look at you before eyeing the road again. You hum in acknowledgment, "That's nice to hear, Kook."

It's silent again but you hear Jungkook mumble something so softly you think you might've been mistaken.

"I care a lot about you too."

After the whole grocery store ordeal, you notice Jungkook begins to spend a little more time with you. He still retreats to Yoongi like before, but it's still progress in your books.

You're lounging around when Jungkook comes by and takes a seat close to you, he doesn't say anything but smiles in lieu of a greeting.

"What's up?" You ask, eyes not leaving your phone. Not that you're doing much on it anyway, you'd just gotten done feeding your virtual cats. "If you're waiting on Yoongi, he's out...probably with Namjoon," you continue.

"I wanted to spend time with you," Jungkook admits, a shy smile playing on his lips.

That's one thing you appreciate, as much as Jungkook has weakened your resolve a significant amount, there are still moments where you see the same lanky, shy boy you admire so much. Or maybe you just like to see him squirm.

"Sure, what do you wanna do?" You look away from your phone to smile at him. The two of you had hung out a handful of times after the car ride, and it ended up being quite nice. You realized that you two had a lot more in common than you originally thought.

"It's nice out today so why don't we go out for a walk?" He suggests.

"You trying to get me to exercise more, Jeon?" You tease, peering out the window to assess the damage you'll be suspecting yourself to.

“Come on, noona, you've been cooped up in here ever since you've come home,” Jungkook whines, poking at your side. “You're getting lazy.”

“Hey, I am not cooped up in here, and this is my vacation, I deserve to be lazy,” you playfully glare from your spot on the couch, laying back further so your legs are spread on his thighs.

He laughs but doesn't make you move your legs off him. Instead, he places his hands on your knees and slowly begins to massage them. You try to feign ignorance to his touch, to keep your eyes glued to anything but him or his hands but it becomes so difficult when one of his hands moves up to your thighs, fingers putting light pressure on the muscle as they slowly begin trailing up your legs.

You don't move, eyes transfixed to the way his fingers ghost the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Even though you try to act like his touch doesn't affect you, your body immediately betrays you when a shudder wracks through you. And you swear you see the corners of Jungkook's mouth lift a little before you awkwardly cough, disrupting the moment.

"The only way you'll have me outside is if you carry me the whole way," you decide.

"I'll happily carry you, noona!" Jungkook laughs, grabbing your hand to pull you up. You greatly misjudge his strength and in a blink of an eye, he has you sitting up and trapped in his grasp. Your eyes widen in shock at your sudden close proximity and you nervously clear your throat before scampering to your feet.

"Let's go then," you briskly walk towards the entrance to put on your shoes.

Once you're standing on the street you grew up in, you turn back to Jungkook who had wordlessly followed your lead. "So, where are you taking me?"

Jungkook laughs nervously before taking ahold of your hand and dragging you towards the park at the end of the street.

"Are you seriously taking me to the park," you laugh as you let him drag you. His pace is faster than yours so you have to move quickly to keep up with his long legs.

"Jungkook! Hold on," you pant, pulling at his wrist to make him stop in his tracks. He looks back and flushes. “Sorry noona,” he responds, slowing his pace to walk in sync next to you but not letting go of your hand.

It’s when you reach the middle of the park that you let go and take a seat on one of the swings.

“God, I haven’t been here in so long,” you say, sitting limply on the swing.

“You haven’t been back in so long,” Jungkook says, taking a seat on the swing next to yours.

“Okay, that’s fair,” you quip, giving him a side-eye before smiling. “I had different plans for the future back then.”

“With Junho?” Jungkook asks, a little cautious when you don’t respond immediately.

“...Yeah,” you say, kicking your legs so you start swinging slowly.

“What happened between the two of you?” He asks, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me unless you want to,” he stammers, backpedaling a little.

“It’s okay, Kook,” you reassure him. “We just grew apart. Fell out of love, I guess,” you try to explain. “It was a good relationship but we were in different places in our lives, so we decided to break up. Simple,” you shrug.

“What about you, though,” you peer over to him. “You got stuff out of me, it’s your turn now.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, kicking his legs so he’s swinging too. “What do you want to know?”

“Why are you considering dropping out?” You turn to face him once the swing stops.

“Wow… you’re blunt, noona.”

“I don’t beat around the bush,” you sniff and wait for him to continue.

Jungkook chuckles, ruffling his hair, “I think I’m gonna end up being a disappointment.”

“Jungkook…” you begin, actually surprised to hear those words from him. “I don’t think you can be more wrong, you know Yoongi’s been telling me just how talented you are for years. He barely calls or texts when I’m not home and when he does, it’s always to tell me how proud he is of you.”

He’s silent for a while, letting the swing stop on its own before he looks up at you again. “Have you heard any of it?”

“I haven’t,” you respond, moving to get off the swing. “Come on, there’s a place I want to go to.”

You two walk towards the trees that line one side of the park, leading to a clearing surrounded by a thicker layer of foliage. It’s a comfortable sort of silence that sits between you as you make your way through the path. When you reach the familiar tree, you smile, moving to sit where you used to spend most of your evenings as a child, Jungkook gingerly taking a seat next to you.

“You remember this place,” he says after a few moments.

“Uh, this is my spot,” you clarify, pointing towards the tree bark where fourteen year old you had carved out your initials.

“Sorry to say, noona, but you’ve been gone too long,” Jungkook sniffs, motioning towards another carving on the tree trunk. You follow his movements and see another dull indentation of the initials “JK”, not far from your own.

“Jungkook, how could you!” You say trying to sound angry, even though the telltale signs of a smile started ghosting your lips. “How dare you not follow the sacred rules of finders keepers losers weepers!”

Jungkook laughs, shrugging. “It’s free real estate, plus I hung out here just as often as you did.”

“Oh yeah, this is where you’d follow me to and then ignore me all day,” you laugh, remembering all the times you’d sit by the tree to read whatever trashy romance novel you’d stolen from your friend’s mom’s closet and he’d come by, sitting on the opposite end, doing whatever he always did. You’d barely talk, you’d sometimes offer him a juice box and he’d sometimes place a peanut butter sandwich next to you before scurrying off. The both of you chuckle together, reminding each other of memories you’d shared there until you fall into another comfortable silence.

“I want to, by the way,” you say, when the sun starts to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. “Listen to your music,” you clarify when he raises a brow in question. “I know it’s a very personal thing to ask for, and even Yoongi barely lets me listen to his pieces, but I’d like to,” you smile, resting your hand on the plush grass, watching the way your fingers are swallowed by the long blades. “If you’d let me.”

Jungkook smiles, cheeks dusting a light pink before he places his hand on yours. “I’d like that.”

It's dark out by the time you get home but it feels like barely any time had passed. You're fairly certain that nobody's home but that doesn't stop you from calling out when you slip off your shoes.

"In here," you hear Yoongi's voice from the living room.

"Don't you have work tonight?" You ask when you spot him lounging on the sofa. You stop in your tracks when you notice Hoseok's presence.

"When did you get here?" You gush, running to crush him in a hug.

"Picked him up an hour ago," Yoongi responds before Hoseok can answer you, though you doubt he'd be able to because you still have him tight in your grasp.

"If you missed me this much, babe, why don't we take this to the bedroom?" Hoseok chuckles, swiftly dodging the pillow Yoongi throws his way. You laugh, used to Hoseok's incessant flirting, almost missing it.

"Why don't you take me right here, right now," you challenge, taking a seat.

"God, if you guys were gonna be fucking gross, I wouldn't have brought him here," Yoongi groans, grimacing at your shameless flirting.

"It's been a while, hyung," another voice calls, and that's when you remember Jungkook was here too. He's still standing in the doorway, face impassive, a clear contrast to how he was smiling at you just moments ago.

"Jungkook! How've you been?" Hoseok goes to give him a hug, you don't miss the way Jungkook's eyes meet yours in their embrace.

Hoseok promptly takes a seat next to you, grabbing your ankles so your legs rest over his lap.

"How long are you here for, Hobi?" You stretch your legs a little more.

"Hmm, probably for two weeks? I'm giving a class in the studio, also have to visit my sister."

"Oh, is Jiwoo still married?"

"Thankfully," he huffs, "Otherwise she'd be stuck up my ass all the time."

"That's a shame," you hum, "Let her know whenever she's ready to leave that husband of hers, I'll be waiting."

"So, you're gonna cheat on me...with my own sister?" He jokingly accuses, already closing the distance between the two of you.

“How else will I bring drama into my life?” You justify as he pulls you closer to grab hold of your waist and begin his attack.

Your cries are violent as you immediately thrash in his hold, tears streaming down your face as you can't hold back your laughter. In the midst of all the chaos, nobody notices Jungkook leave.

A couple of days go by and you don't see Jungkook as often anymore. Sure, you catch him doing some chores here and there but it's not the same. Shockingly, you've been significantly more productive these days with most of the list crossed out already. So, there's not much left to do. So you decide to do the first thing that comes to mind — barge into Yoongi's room. Surprisingly, he's awake and flinches when he hears the door burst open. You ignore his curses and ungracefully flop down on his bed.

"What do you want?" He sneers from his place on the desk, headphones propped away from his ears so he can hear you.

"I'm bored," you sniff, turning to face him.

"The fuck should I do then?"

"When did you get so boring?" You whine. "Let's get drunk or something...since Hoseok's here too," you reason.

"Yeah, we could..." he says, eyes going back to his laptop screen. "But I think I've seen you and Jung hook up enough to last me a lifetime."

"You know he'd blow you before he'd as much as kiss me," you challenge, laughing when he bristles at your words.

"Get the fuck out of my room!"

You easily dodge the balls of dirty socks he flings your way, laughing as you make your way out of his room.

It's a pleasant night and you find yourself sitting in your backyard once again, drinking wine you swiped from your mother's stash. It's quiet, and you're humming to yourself, enjoying the buzz of alcohol in your veins. That's when you see Jungkook in his own backyard and you wave him over, showcasing the bottle of wine as temptingly as you can.

"You know I got that for your mom," Jungkook takes a seat next to you, but still takes the bottle from you.

"Are you trying to woo my mother?" You raise an eyebrow, trying to bite back a smile.

"I plan on becoming your second dad by the end of the year," he takes a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Well, I'd suggest you get Pinot Noir and I guarantee you'll have her by the end of the month," you wink, taking the bottle back.

He laughs and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it's half empty. The headiness of the wine finally gets to you and you begin to sway a little.

"Where were you?" You ask rather bluntly.

"I was here," he responds, confused at your sudden question.

"No," you sigh, pushing the stray hair out of your face. "I mean...were you avoiding me or something?"

"N-no," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Okay, maybe a little."

You scoff, appalled at his answer. "You know you could have just lied so I wouldn't feel bad," You sniff, turning away from him. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, I just..." he clears his throat, and it feels like you're back at square one when he couldn't hold a conversation with you for the life of him. "I just needed some time."

"Oh," you respond, taking his words a little differently. "I get it, Kook, everyone needs time."

"Noona, I don't think you do," he sighs, not looking at you. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you for a while...I just-" He pauses when you put a reassuring hand on his knee, you would've aimed for his shoulder but you're practically slumped in your chair. He pauses, staring at your hand for a moment before he threads his fingers with yours, soothingly rubbing patterns on the back of your palm. You take the time to look at his face then, the way his hair bounces over his eyes, you can't help but follow the slope of his nose and direct your attention to his lips. You must be blatantly staring because he notices when you begin to sit up straight. You can't help yourself when your drunken mind can only focus on how beautiful he looks in the moonlight. His eyes also soften looking at you and you swear you catch his gaze drop to your lips.

"Noona," he whispers, "I-"

You swear he's moving closer and you can't help but lean in until you're only inches apart. Your breath hitches. "Yeah?" you ask, peering up at him. He gulps at your sudden close proximity, his eyes falling down to your lips before he catches your gaze once again.

"Noona, I-" He begins again but he's cut off by your blaring ringtone which somehow is still Apple Bottom Jeans like it's been for the past eight years. You almost fall back trying to answer the call, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"H-Hoseok!" you shout. "Shit, I was gonna call you later, wait, Jungkook's here too let me put you on speaker!"

"Kook! Where've you been?" Hoseok's voice drifts over, a little static from the signal.

"Ah, just busy, hyung," Jungkook meekly replies.

"Don't work yourself too hard, kid," Hoseok chuckles, "Enjoy your youth!"

"Stop talking like you're an old man, it makes me feel old," you tease, "Jungkook's a good kid so the last thing he needs is you to influence him." You reach out to ruffle Jungkook's hair affectionately but he doesn't return your affection with a smile as you expected, instead, you see his jaw clench before he lets go of your hand.

"Oh, so you think I'm a bad influence?" Hoseok asks, trying to sound appalled. "When you sound drunk, ___, did you give the kid alcohol?"

"No," you hiccup. "Technically he gave it to my mom and I stole it from her!"

"Who's really the bad influence then, babe," Hoseok laughs.

You lean back in your chair, drunkenly laughing.

“But listen,” Hoseok continues once you've calmed down. “I’m calling because I heard someone can't get enough alcohol in her system.”

“So drinking my problems away is wrong when I do it?”

“Aw, you can drink as much as you want, babe,” Hoseok chuckles. “Namjoon and I are throwing a party at your request.”

“Wait,” you jolt up. “You got Namjoon to agree? Mr. I have a 9 to 5 job and too many Bonsai tree children to feed.”

“Well...it’s more of a hangout,” his voice changing in pitch at the last word. “But I’m sure I can pull some strings for you...I can do anything for you, babe,” Hoseok adds, still laughing at your Namjoon impression

“Mm, that sounds hot Jung,” you coolly respond, moving to take another swig of wine but you can't find the bottle. When you turn to ask Jungkook, you see him taking a long swig, finishing off the remaining wine.

“Jungkook that doesn’t come cheap, you know?” You berate, frowning at the lack of wine in the bottle.

“I know,” he huffs, leaning back on the dock chair. “I am the one who bought it."

"Will I be expecting to see you there, kid?" Hoseok's voice calls out. "Because it seems like you need a drink too."

"Yeah, sure," Jungkook responds. "See you later, hyung, I'm heading out."

"Wait, Jungkook," you call out with a playful lilt to your tone. "You're leaving after you buy a girl a drink? That's not how it goes!"

To your dismay, Jungkook doesn't turn back or even acknowledge you as he walks back to his side of the fence.

"Don't tease him, ___," you hear Hoseok's laugh from the static of your phone, making you flinch at your forgotten company.

"So it's okay when you do it but not when I do it?" You repeat your earlier words. "You know what they call that, Jung? Sexism."

"No, you dumbass," Hoseok groans. "I mean don't lead him on."

"Wait what?" You sputter. "How are you calling me a dumbass when you're the one saying something like that!"

"Come on, ___," Hoseok sighs. "The kid literally wears his heart on his sleeve, it's harder not to notice."

"Why do I feel too drunk for this but also in need of a drink after hearing this," you groan, leaning back. "Don't play tricks on a woman when she's drunk, Hoseok. You should know this."

"That's called alcoholism," Hoseok easily responds. "And ___, trust me, everyone can see it. But I guess you're just not ready to have that conversation."

You're at a loss for words after hearing that. What the fuck? You're brought out of your panicked thoughts when your phone vibrates in your hand, only then realizing that Hoseok had hung up on you.

"That damn Aquarius," you mumble to yourself as you scroll through your phone to check the aforementioned text message.

Hoseok [23:18]: Everyone can see you too, but you aren't ready for that conversation either.

“___,” you hear your mother call. “Can you give this to Jungkook before he leaves?”

"He's here?" You peer over your mother's shoulder as she packs dinner for him inside some tupperware. "I haven't seen him around."

"Oh he mentioned coming by to see Yoongi, as usual, he should be in his room I suppose," she hands you the box before making her way out of the kitchen. "And remind Yoongi to eat something, he's been cooped up in his room all day!"

You begrudgingly make your way to Yoongi's bedroom, knowing well that he dislikes it when you barge in when he's working so you decide to do the decent thing, and barge in.

"What the fuck do you want now?" He seethes, whipping his head around to glare at you. You mindlessly peer around his room and huff. "Jungkook's not here?"

"No," Yoongi says, turning back to face the glowing screen of his computer once more. "He didn't show today."

"Huh," you hum. "Well, don't rot away in front of your computer screen, take a shower," you scrunch your nose in disgust. "And eat something so you don't die before you get to drunkenly make out with Hoseok."

You're quick to make your exit before you can hear Yoongi's retort. You end up busying yourself in your room for the next couple of hours, humming the tune you've heard come out of Yoongi's room for the past two days as you work, happy that you're actually getting something done for a change. It's when you lean back to stretch your stiff back that you realize that the sun is close to setting.

"So you showered," you grin at Yoongi when you enter the kitchen. Leaning down next to him, you steal some food off his plate. He passes you a glare before shoveling more into his mouth. "Jungkook still not here?" You ask, looking for the tupperware your mom had given you earlier.

It's Yoongi's turn to smirk now. "Why do you care so much?"

You snort at his words, "I'm just asking because mom told me to give him some dinner. Guess I'll have to go next door."

"Yeah the only dinner you'll be serving him is your —"

You've shut the door before Yoongi can finish that sentence, grateful that he doesn't get to see the growing blush on your cheeks.

You peer over to Jungkook's backyard, hoping to see him outside but it's empty. Huffing about the fact that you'll have to go to his house, the conversation you had with Hoseok still running in the back of your mind.

Shaking yourself out of it, you trudge your way across the fence but you once again find yourself nervous. Nervous that you're going to be seeing him.

You hadn't seen Jungkook much after the night you'd gotten drunk together. You'd think he was purposefully avoiding you, but you also know that he'd been helping his father with work for the past few days and had seen him through the window once or twice. Other than that, you'd had no contact with him.

You frown, standing outside the back entrance of the house, unsure of what you should do.

Confused about whether you should go to the front door and ring the doorbell or just go through the backdoor, leave the food in the kitchen and make a prompt exit. You snort, what the hell were you doing? This nervousness was so unlike you, you're always the one with the upper hand, you're an adult for god's sake, and you're far above this coy behavior. With a sudden burst of confidence, you push back your doubts and quickly find yourself inside the kitchen. Peering around, you don't spot Jungkook anywhere, not even his parents but that's not out of the ordinary, they're usually not home around this time anyway. You decide to leave the food out in the living room instead, where he'll spot it quicker. Deciding to send a quick text letting him know that you stopped by, you're about to leave until you're stopped in your tracks.

It's a dull thump that causes you to pause, making you peer in the direction of the noise in confusion. It's repetitive, coming from down the hall. Jungkook's probably working out, you think to yourself. His muscles didn't just pop out of nowhere after all. Deciding to walk further, you're met with a sliver of light falling on the floor, faintly lighting up the otherwise dark hallway.

That's when you hear it.

You're far too close when you realize — you would have never come if you had known (you tell yourself). Though you don't stop walking until you see the girl who's caught your attention. Her wails much clearer now that you're closer. "F-fuuuck, Jungkook," she cries, voice breaking at every syllable.

Jungkook is towering over her form, legs propped on his shoulder as he pushes into her. His occasional grunts taking away your focus, his voice reverberating through the walls and sending shivers down your spine. It takes all of your strength to keep standing at the scene, your mind screaming at you to make a move, to leave but your body stays rooted in place, taking in every detail of the scene in front of you. You're too shocked to take a breath as you see the way his muscles flex at every movement he makes, the way he so easily contorts the girl's body, drilling into her as she shrieks in pleasure. Soon enough, he has her flipped over on all fours with great ease, her head pushing down into the mattress. Your eyes barely rest on her until your eyes find their way back to him. A wrack of shivers goes down your spine once again when you notice the way begins plowing into her, with even more vigor than before. The way his jaw is clenched, letting out a grunt every time his cock is deeply lodged into her. Your eyes follow the sweat dripping down his forehead, down to his neck, following down until you see the ridges of his built form. When you look up to him again, it takes all your power not to fall down to your knees when you realize that he's looking right at you.

You gasp when he pushes her head further down into the mattress, her moans now muffled by the linen underneath. His grunts are the only thing you can hear now, sounding deep and guttural every time he pushes back in. His pace is faster, stronger and it feels like you can feel the way his cock pushes in. The way he's looking at you, it's like he's fucking you and not the girl who's currently blubbering underneath him.

Your thighs rub together at the sudden need for friction. Jungkook's eyes follow your movements, a smirk filling his features. "You like the way I'm fucking you?" He asks through clenched teeth, pushing into the hilt and pressing his pelvis into the back of her thighs.

"Mmf, yes," the girl grits out. "I love the way your cock is fucking me!"

Although she's the one answering him, you know the question was directed to you as his eyes haven't left you yet, even for a second. His hum of approval has your knees shaking and you swear your panties are sticking to you uncomfortably. You're shocked you haven't made a sound even though your breathing is labored, heart-rate accelerated. You must have gone completely insane to still be standing here when you know Jungkook is aware of your presence.

"Jungkook!" The girl cries, her legs shaking. "I'm gonna cum!"

"Come on, baby girl," Jungkook grunts, pushing into her even further. "Cum all over my cock."

It's like you're in a trance, following the way he moves his hands between her legs, making her cries get louder and shakier. At this point, its Jungkook holding the poor girl up as he drills into her. Her moans increase in pitch and it would honestly bother you but you're far too distracted looking at Jungkook that you don't even notice her cum. It's only when his own hips stutter and his head falls back that you get ahold of yourself.

As quietly as you can, with shaky knees, you make it out of his house and back to your room. Your heart hammering in your chest because you just saw Jungkook fuck the life out of some girl. Oh my god, you just saw Jungkook fuck the life out of some girl! Jungkook, your neighbour, the kid who idolizes your brother. Jungkook, who was always too shy to talk to you, who'd always get red-faced when you were around. Jungkook, who works out in his backyard. Jungkook, who sometimes holds your hand. Jungkook, who apparently can fuck the soul out of you. You shudder at that thought, your mind reeling from what you just witnessed, the wetness between your thighs still evident. You shake yourself away from wandering thoughts, you can't, you chastise yourself as you bury your face into your pillow. But the image of him doesn't stray from your mind and you feel like your body is working on overdrive, your nerves so sensitive that you can't help but shakily place a hand between your thighs.

"Yoongi's been complaining that you've been inside more than usual," Hoseok takes a seat next to you when you find yourself lounging around your house yet again.

"I've been busy," you quip, eyes not leaving the textbook in your lap.

"Come on!" Hoseok laughs, "Your lack of flirting is worrying, what's up?"

At your non-committal hum of acknowledgment, he yanks the textbook, prying it away from your grabby hands.

"If it takes me longer to graduate, it's going to be your fault, Hoseok," you groan, folding your arms across your chest after a feeble attempt to get your book back.

"___, why are you studying when you're on vacation," he raises an eyebrow. "More importantly, when I'm here?"

"Clearly, you've mistaken me for someone who gives a shit about you, Jung," you retort, "I've been using you to get to your sister this whole time."

Hoseok scoffs at your refusal to comply before bringing a backpack to his lap. That piques your interest as you raise your eyebrow expectantly.

"What's in there?"

"I was going to give this to you as a peace offering, but you're being a little bitch," Hoseok sniffs, taking out a bottle of vodka from the bag.

"I think you're the one pushing me towards alcoholism, Jung," you snort but pause when he takes out a carton of cranberry juice.

"Don't act like you're not the one who got us all booze with your fake ID in high school," he laughs, raising the bottle in his hand. "So let's commemorate and drink cranberry vodka like a bunch of freshmen."

You stare him down for a while before a smile slowly creeps up on your lips.

"God, I really need to stop using alcohol as a crutch," you grin before taking the bottle from his hand.

It's after you've drunk almost half the bottle between the two of you that Yoongi comes home, groaning as he takes off his shoes to announce his arrival.

"Get in here, you toad," you drunkenly giggle, almost sliding off your couch in between. "I have two surprises for you!"

Yoongi slowly makes his way into the living room, a scowl on his face at your obvious inebriated state.

"I'm here. Now give me a drink," he says, making you move so he can wedge himself between you and Hoseok.

"Surprise number one!" You say, handing him a haphazard mixture of vodka and cranberry juice. "And surprise number two!" You shove him lightly so he's even closer to Hoseok. You giggle as he nudges you with his elbow.

"Hoseok's helping me drink my problems away," you say, moving to the adjacent couch when Yoongi won't let you drape your legs across his.

"What problems, noona?" You hear from the doorway and immediately stiffen.

There is none other than Jungkook, standing at the entrance, innocently smiling at you before he makes his way into the living room.

"Oh yeah, Jungkook's here too," Yoongi says, sipping on his drink and grimacing before shooting you a nasty glare for not putting in enough juice.

"I hope you guys don't mind," Jungkook says before sitting on the couch you're on, a little too close for comfort.

"What were you guys doing?" Hoseok asks, taking Jungkook's attention away from you.

"Yoongi hyung was treating me to dinner for finishing a song," Jungkook says, showcasing his teeth while smiling.

At that moment, you decide that Jungkook is the devil incarnate. He has the audacity to look like the sweet, innocent, helpful Jungkook you've known your whole life. But you know the truth, you know how he is anything but that. You can see through his facade easily, how he has everyone fooled.

He shifts in his spot, causing him to bump his thigh with yours and you immediately clamp your legs shut and move away from him, leaning as close to the corner of the sofa as you can get. You hear him huff but he maintains his distance. Even though there’s about a person’s gap between the two of you, you can still feel the heat radiating from his body.

"You know glaring at your empty cup won't put more alcohol in it," Yoongi says, finishing his own drink before moving to make himself another.

"Uh, yeah," you say, distracted still as you pour a hefty amount of vodka in your cup.

"Slow down, babe," Hoseok snorts at your antics. "What's got your panties in a twist."

"Please don't talk about my sister's panties when I'm here," Yoongi groans.

"He means don't talk about my panties when you can talk about his panties," you smirk, settling back down on the sofa.

"What if I want to talk about your panties, ___?" Comes Jungkook's whispered voice next to you, his breath hitting your neck and you almost choke on your drink, coughing loudly.

"Are you okay, noona?" Jugkook asks, loud enough for everyone to hear this time. "Here, drink some water."

You begrudgingly accept the offered cup and gulp it down so you don't have to look at his face and just recall the way he was looking at you the other night.

"Look at Jungkookie taking care of his noona!" Hoseok drunkenly giggles, slapping Yoongi's arm to get his attention. Hoseok's intentions are as clear as day and you're not amused. You feel even more on edge now, knowing that even Yoongi was in on it — if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

You hear Jungkook laugh beside you and put an arm around your waist. You jolt up at the contact, feeling extremely sober suddenly.

"Uh...I'm going to the kitchen. Bye," you stammer and run towards your safe haven.

He's the devil, you can't believe you hadn't noticed it before.

"It really is all men," you mutter to yourself, pacing in the kitchen.

"I take it either you and Jungkook finally fucked or that you and Yoongi are fighting...which isn't new or exciting so please tell me you and Jungkook finally fucked," Hoseok says casually as he leans onto the kitchen island.

"No we did not...and will you keep your voice down?" You whisper-shout, peeking into the living room to make sure nobody heard him.

"Then why are you here talking to yourself like a madwoman, are you trying to prove that there are ghosts in this house again because that's not funny and I will scream."

"God, I wish my ghost boyfriend was still here...I miss Taemin," you groan, taking Hoseok's cup and downing it in one go. "He wouldn't torture me like this...why did he have to cross over?"

"You really need to get laid," Hoseok dryly comments. "Especially if you're pining over a clearly non-existent boyfriend."

"Oh my god, Hoseok!" You say, eyes wide as you quickly turn to face him. He flinches ready to get hit with the plastic cup in your hand but instead, you grab both of his shoulders and pull him closer.

"You're right! I do need to get laid...that explains everything," you let go of him and start pacing again. "But the question now is...who?"

"That's easy-"

"Don't you fucking dare, Jung Hoseok," you interrupt, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Don't even try."

"I'm just stating the viable options here."

"I would take this from you any other day, but right now, I need you to help me set up a dick appointment."

"God, we're both not drunk enough for this conversation...and I'm pretty sure I'm seeing double right now," Hoseok slurs a little to accentuate his drunken state.

"It can't be you...because Yoongi would annihilate me," you begin to mutter your thoughts out loud, "Obviously Jungkook is a no go, that's just my sex-deprived brain malfunctioning."

"So you admit it!" Hoseok excitedly shouts, pointing at you with his eyes wide.

"No, shut up!" You gape, pausing in your tracks.

"Something happened, you don't do that weird saying your thoughts out loud thing unless something happened," Hoseok grins. "And don't think I didn't hear that little panties comment he made."

Fuck, it really be your own that betray you, and for you, it's your stupid inebriated self.

"Okay, if I tell you what happened," you begin, inching closer to him. "You have to promise not to laugh at me."

"You know I'm a whore for gossip," he smiles, leaning back to the counter.

"Okay..." You begin, nervously peering at the entrance to make sure that you're both alone. "I may have seen..." You purposefully keep your voice as low as a whisper, as a further precaution. "Jungkook...fucking a girl... and I can't stop thinking about it Hoseok, so you understand the severity of the situation."

He stares at you blankly as his drunken mind processes what you had said to him before, his eyes comically wide, and he barks out a loud laugh.

"Hoseok you promised you wouldn't laugh!" You sniff, looking at him with pleading eyes in hopes that he'll take pity on you.

He doesn't.

"Okay, you can't tell me something like that and not give me details... How much did you see? Did you see his dick? What's he like in bed?"

Hoseok's busy listing out detailing questions but you can't hear him anymore as your cheeks heat up at a significant pace when your mind starts to wander...

"Oh my god!" Hoseok balks at you. "You saw all of it didn't you!"

You don't respond, only gulp nervously when your mouth gets too dry.

"Shit, ___, not gonna lie... That's so hot." You see his eyes beginning to crinkle and scamper to shut him up before the man in question hears that you're currently talking about him getting his dick wet in front of you.

Unfortunately, luck hasn't been on your side for the past couple of days.

"What's hot?" Jungkook says as he peeks his head in the entrance before making his way to where you are awkwardly holding onto Hoseok.

"Kim Taehyung!" You shout the name abruptly before you can even think of an excuse.

"Huh?" Jungkook tilts his head and you have to inhale deeply at the way his hair flops with his movement. Demon, you remind yourself.

"I invited Taehyung to the party this weekend, ___ thinks he's hot," Hoseok winks at you before looking back at Jungkook.

You look between the two of them before quickly stammering, "Uh, yeah! He's really hot... totally fuckable!"

Jungkook looks at you, his face blank before he hums. "I see," he says, before turning to Hoseok. "Yoongi hyung was calling you."

Hoseok passes you an apologetic look before grinning wildly and making his exit — effectively leaving you alone with Jungkook. Fucking Aquarius bastard.

You awkwardly clear your throat when you notice Jungkook silently looking at you.

"So, Kim Taehyung?" He asks, slowly stepping closer to you.

"Yeah," you stutter, "...Kim Taehyung," backing away from him until the back of your legs hit the counter.

"What about him?" He smirks, eyeing you down and you have to peer up at him to maintain eye contact. Fuck when did he get so tall?

"You know..." you begin, "he's a good looking guy...what can a girl do?" You grimace at your words as they leave your lips but Jungkook doesn't react, just keeps his lazy smirk.

"Hmm… what can a girl do?" He grins, leaning down so he's face to face with you, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes widen before they fall to his lips and your mouth goes dry. You subconsciously lick your lips and his own eyes follow your movements before he moves towards the left to grab a spare mug that was sitting behind you on the counter.

He doesn't wait for your response before he's making his way out of the kitchen and back to the living room to Yoongi and Hoseok... and alcohol. God, you need more alcohol but you really can't make yourself sit in his presence anymore.

"Fuck Jungkook," you angrily mutter as you make your way back to your bedroom before groaning at the choice of words. You slam the door in the midst of your frustrations before launching yourself on the bed.

"I can't believe booze has failed me," you mumble into your pillow before falling into an alcohol-induced sleep.

"You can cancel your party," you say over the phone, in lieu of a greeting right as Hoseok picks up. "I'm quitting alcohol."

"I'm guessing you didn't hydrate last night," Hoseok responds, sounding much better than you.

"I couldn't and you know it!" You seethe, soothing your aching head after downing two pills of aspirin. "Anyway, how do you sound okay, I'm sure you drank way more than me."

"I may or may not have puked my guts out an hour after you left," Hoseok admits, sounding a little ashamed.

"It's what you deserve," you remark blandly, making your way out to the backyard where the warm sun welcomed you. You groan in appreciation of the warm dock chair as you get comfortable. It's only when you open your eyes again, you see Jungkook working out in his backyard once again.

"If there's a god," you mutter to yourself, "When will you let me catch a break?"

"What's up?" you hear Hoseok ask over some crackling, probably making himself breakfast.

"The bane of my existence this summer..." you whisper just in case Jungkook doesn't over-hear even though he's clearly out of earshot — but you can never be too cautious.

"Our little Jungkookie's working out isn't he," Hoseok snickers, "Why don't you just sit back and enjoy the show?"

You hum, "You know what, Hoseok?" you say thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right... maybe I can get some sort of sexual gratification by just staring at him... doing those pull-ups... and then I'll get it out of my system" You silently watch the way his muscles flex every time he does one, getting a full view of those godly pectoral muscles because he decided to forgo a shirt today.

"Clearly, it’s working," Hoseok snorts.

You groan loudly, "It's not fair Hoseok! When did he get the upper hand, how did I let this happen?"

"Come on, ___, you seriously thought Jungkook was gonna stay coy this whole time? The kid's got game, you'd know if you’d come home more often."

"Don't say that! Don't call him a kid when I saw what I saw!" You angrily whisper into the phone.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy the show." You can practically hear the god-awful smirk accompanying Hoseok's tone.

"This is why men don't deserve rights," you mutter, still angrily staring at Jungkook finishing up his work-out. "Anyway," you sniff, "you owe me a favor."

"And what is that?" He chuckles.

"Call Taehyung to the party for me."

"Oh? So now you're coming to the party?" Hoseok asks. "I thought you swore off alcohol...well you lasted ten minutes, I'm proud of you."

"Just invite him, will you?"

You’ve managed to successfully avoid Jungkook, occasionally seeing him around the house but your plan was foolproof: flee. But it’s the day of the party and your otherwise foolproof plan is going to fail, because he’ll be there, and you’ll be there, in the same space.

Hoseok [9:45]: I won’t let u in unless u have at least one bottle of booze with u.

Hoseok [9:57]: That was Namjoon but yeah, the rule still stands.

“I thought this party was for me,” you mutter to yourself as you make your way up the stairs, pulling on your dress nervously after every couple of steps.

You pause when you reach the apartment, a dull throb of music cascading through the walls, staying still for a while before kicking the door once to announce your arrival.

A few seconds go by and you’re ready to kick again but the door swings open to a clearly drunk Namjoon, cradling a bonsai tree close to his chest.

“___!” He grins, pulling you into a tight hug but he misjudges and proceeds to stuff your face in his pit. You awkwardly stand in his grip, letting him hug it out because it’s been a while since you’ve seen him

“Thank god you shower regularly,” you grin at him when he lets you go. “I come bearing gifts,” you hold up the lone bottle in your hand. “So, please put my coat in Hoseok’s room for me.”

“Tequila...” Hoseok slithers his way in at the mention of alcohol. “Someone’s here to make regrets!”

“It’s silver so you better have lemons in your kitchen,” you push past him and are met with enough people to be considered a party and not the hang-out Namjoon had planned.

“So I take it your persuasion worked,” you look at Hoseok as you make your way into the kitchen.

“I told you I’d do anything for you, babe, do I ever disappoint?”

“Okay, get off your high horse,” you jab, rolling your eyes. “Alcohol please,” you cup your palms in front of your chest.

“___,” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “It’s like one foot away from you. Make your own drink.”

“I don’t have my research on me right now but I have proven that your drinks get me drunk faster,” you sniff. “So, alcohol please.”

Once you’ve downed two shots of tequila and now nurse once of Hoseok’s special drinks, you happily stroll to the living room where you’re met with Yoongi and Namjoon, bonsai plant still in hand.

“What is he doing?” You ask Yoongi in lieu of a greeting as you wedge your way between the two of them on the sofa.

“I’m cradling my daughter,” Namjoon sniffs, gripping the plant closer to his chest. “She can’t fall asleep otherwise.”

You pass Yoongi a look who just shrugs. “I think you have more pressing matters at hand, ___,” he says cocking his head to the side. You follow his line of sight and curse under your breath.

Lo and behold, Jungkook is already there, surrounded by a bunch of people you recognize as his friends, not like you could recognise anyone besides Park Jimin...and the girl you saw him fucking who is busy clinging onto his arm and laughing at something he just said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say taking a large gulp of your drink. “Anyway, is Taehyung here?”

“Oh god,” Yoongi groans. “Don’t tell me you got Namjoon to agree to a party just so you could schedule a booty call with Taehyung, you know you could just text him instead of orchestrating a giant ruse.”

“Hey, this ruse is for you and Hoseok to get down and dirty too, I’m doing you a service,” you sniff, downing the rest of your drink. At the rate you’re going, you’re pretty sure you’ll blackout but sneaking a glance at Jungkook again, makes you forgo your concerns and move to get yourself another drink.

“Long Island iced tea?” You hear and turn around, drink sloshing in your cup. “You haven’t changed,” Taehyung smiles, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“Kim Taehyung!” You smile, tipsy already, and move to hug him, burying your head in his neck. “Why did everyone go through a growth spurt and not tell me,” you sniff when you fall back onto the heels of your feet.

“I like towering over you though,” he easily says, taking ahold of your waist and pulling you towards him. “Come dance with me.”

You easily agree, letting him move you to the living room where a couple of people were dancing to the music. You’ve never been a good dancer, always the one with two left feet but get some alcohol in you and suddenly your body just knows. Sure, you can’t call what you’re doing dancing, moving more towards fucking with your clothes on, if the thigh Taehyung has wedged between your legs and the way he’s gliding you on it has anything to go by.

You thank alcohol for giving you the confidence that surges through your body when you feel a twitch against your own thigh, making you smirk. The two of you dance to the music for a couple more minutes until he bends down, lips touching the shell of your ear. “Meet me on the balcony in five, yeah?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Kim,” you pull away. “Let me go grab my coat.”

You’re quick to whirl around, moving towards Hoseok’s room, giggling to yourself at the prospect of your plan coming to fruition. Maybe this will let you see clearly and not drool thinking about Jungkook anymore. Clearly, you just need to get a good dicking down and Jungkook will be Jungkook again.

Thankfully Hoseok’s room is unlocked and empty, you peer around the dark in search of your coat.

A hoe never gets cold but she does need her jacket when she has to make a quick run for it, just in case.

You aren’t there for long when you hear the door open again.

“I thought you said to meet on the balcony,” you laugh, turning around but your laughter dies in your throat when you realise it’s not Taehyung standing behind you.

“Jungkook?” You stutter, “what are you doing here?”

“You know, ___,” Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek as he stalks his way towards you. “Hoseok I kind of understood… but Kim Taehyung?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” You stutter, all the alcohol running through your veins suddenly evaporating.

“I’m tired of playing games, ___,” Jungkook responds, ignoring your question. “I don’t want to hear any excuses anymore.”

“What do you mean, Jungkook?” You shrink under his gaze. He looks so different right now like a whole different person.

“I mean,” Jungkook chuckles, stepping closer as you inch back, the back of your thighs hit Hoseok’s desk. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Jungkook!” You shriek, “Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t want to f-fuck me.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and immediately bends down so his face is a mere inch away from your own. “Oh, you have no idea just how much I want you, ___,” Jungkook says, his eyes falling to your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you. And I know you want me too.”

In a blink of an eye, he’s lifted you up and seated you on Hoseok’s desk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you let out, eyes wide when you see the look in his eyes, the way his eyes roam your body with this innate hunger.

“Stop kidding yourself, ___. Don’t pretend like you didn’t see anything,” he says, leaning so close to you that he’s all you can see. Everything about him is so different now, it’s surprising that you just recently noticed the raw sexual appeal Jungkook exuded. You nervously lick your lips when you find his gaze drifting down once again, trailing your body with hunger you now recognize as the look he gave you when you found him fucking that girl a couple of days ago.

“It’s okay, noona,” he chuckles, the word sounding nothing but condescending coming out of his mouth this time. “I like being watched.”

"J-Jungook!" you gasp, shocked at his obscene words. He's so close to your vicinity that you're unable to think straight.

“And it looks like you like to watch, don’t you noona?” He teases, his hand gripping your waist to hold you into place.

“Tell me, noona,” he asks, licking his lips and you shudder when you see the wet sheen of saliva coat his lips. “Did you touch yourself that night? Did you get off to me fucking her?”

Without thinking, you find yourself nodding to his words, eyes wide, breathing hard and shallow. He groans, separating your legs to wedge himself between your thighs. He’s so close, pressing his body into yours, and you let him, gripping his shoulders to press him even closer to you.

“Do you even know what you do to me, ___?” He groans into your neck. He presses his hips into your stomach. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?”

You whimper, feeling the thick shaft of his dick pressing into your skin. All too soon, the feeling is gone and he’s standing back looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Take off your clothes.”

You don’t even hesitate and slip your dress off, left only in a pair of lace panties. Jungkook groans at the sight, palming himself through his jeans. His eyes roaming your body, from the swell of your breasts down to the lacy material of your panties.

“Didn’t even wear a bra, you’re so naughty noona,” Jungkook smirks, shamelessly eyeing your breasts.

“I want to know what you did.”

“W-what?” You ask, peering up at him with confusion.

“I want to see how you touched yourself thinking about me.”

You shudder under his watchful gaze and you let out a shaky breath.

“Go on then.”

You slowly inch your hands down your body, sliding down your panties gently enough that they stick to the wetness of your core. You hear Jungkook curse under his breath at the sight.

“So wet, and I haven't even touched you,” he looks entranced, the way his eyes widen at the scene between your legs.

“You did this,” you mumble, swirling the wetness of your folds and spreading it across the expanse of your pussy. Biting your lips when your finger grazes your clit.

Jungkook moves to take a seat on the chair, getting a better view of your fingers working on yourself.

You ghost your fingers across your clit, breath shuddering every time the movement sends small a small wave of shock through your body. You should feel embarrassed, being watched so closely but the fact that Jungkook is here, watching you so intently just eggs you on. You circle your finger along your entrance as another gush of arousal flows through, glistening the tips of your fingers, and you gather the wetness, shoving it back in. A small moan leaves your lips when you curl a finger inside yourself.

"You're doing so well, noona," Jungkook whispers. His jeans are unbuttoned but he doesn't bother touching himself, too busy watching you. And you're in awe of him yourself, biting your lips as you slowly begin to grind onto your finger, slowly adding another digit. You shudder when you scissor them inside of yourself, your legs beginning to close into themselves but Jungkook pushes them apart, so he doesn't miss a single movement.

"Fuck, fuck! Jungkook," you gasp, "It feels so good!"

Your movements begin to get more erratic, faster as you start to lose yourself to the pleasure. Your thighs twitching when you press onto your clit. You sputter when you add another finger, slowing down your movements to get used to the pleasant feeling of feeling so full.

"J-Jungkook!" You moan out, your other hand reaching to grab ahold of the one that's grabbing your thigh, "I'm gonna-"

"Are you cumming already, ___?" He tilts his head, looking at you with a teasing smirk. "Did you enjoy the show that much?"

"Yes!" You grit out, biting your lips as you fuck yourself. "Wanna feel you so bad!"

You groan, hips lifting off the desk when you crook all three fingers inside of you, thumb rubbing against your clit. "Jungk- fuck, I'm cumming!" You cry out before your words taper off to strangled moans. You keep fucking yourself until you've ridden out the waves of your orgasm, panting by the time you come down from your high.

When you lazily open your eyes, you find Jungkook's eyes wide, staring between your legs.

"Fuck," he says before he peers up at you. "That was the hottest thing I've seen in my whole life." Before you can respond he's shoving his head between your legs and licking a long stripe up your slit before he latches onto your clit and begins to suck gently.

"Ah, Jungkook," you groan, head falling back and hitting the wall behind you. "It's too much Jungkook," you whimper, feeling oversensitive from your orgasm but he doesn't listen, eagerly lapping up your release like a man starved. He groans when his tongue probes at your hole, fucking it with shallow thrusts, sucking up the wetness. "Noona, you taste so good," he groans before diving back in. The oversensitivity has you sobbing, tears falling down your cheeks but you still find yourself pressing yourself against his tongue as hard as you can. The fact that it's Jungkook’s head between your legs has you tumbling towards a second orgasm at an embarrassingly fast pace. Without warning, the tight coil snaps once more and you're coming undone, grinding yourself onto his tongue, moaning out his name. This only spurs him further as he licks into you with even more vigor, lapping up whatever dribbles out of you like it's his only life source.

When the waves of pleasure settle down, you slump against the wall, utterly spent. Your thighs still twitching at the intensity of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Jungkook mutters, looking up at you, his breath hitched. You gasp when you notice his lips, cheeks, and chin dripping with your release. "You're so fucking hot," he mutters before moving to stand up. He strips himself of his shirt quickly, and your eyes widen once more over how toned his body is. You shamelessly ogle his body, eyes following the ridges of his muscles.

"When did you turn into such a muscle pig," you scoff when he flexes.

"Feels good when you cream yourself watching me work out in the backyard," Jungkook chuckles. You bristle at his words, flushing a deep crimson.

"You noticed?"

"Why do you think I put on such a show, noona?" He winks before he's standing close to you once again. "Now be a good girl, and suck me off."

You're quick to pull his jeans down, grateful that he had undone the button earlier, you're sure you would have fumbled with it the way your hands are shaking in anticipation.

The moment his cock is free from its confines, your eyes widen. It's a mouth-watering sight. His cock beautifully glistens as precum leaks out of the tip, sliding down the curved shaft and you lick your lips, following the trail with your eyes. Gingerly, you grab the shaft, spreading the wetness on the head and he hisses when your thumb digs into the slit. At his reaction you grow more bold, kissing a line on the side of his length, licking his skin more and more after each kiss. When you reach the head, you press another kiss on the tip before encasing it between your lips, swirling your tongue before you suckle on it lightly.

"F-fuck, ___!" Jungkook hisses. "Be a good girl and take it all in, okay?"

You easily comply, slowly sinking on his length, inch by inch you swallow his length as far as you can go before going back up to catch your breath. Once you get used to the length and the thick girth, you loosen your jaw and eagerly stuff him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you take him in.

"Oh god, you're doing so well, baby," Jungkook grits, taking a hold of the hair that falls onto your face. His praise just makes you more eager and you go even further until your nose touches his pelvis. You stay in that position, nose hitting the base of his cock, and you inhale deeply, groaning when the heady scent invades your senses. Tears stream down your face as your throat constricts, jaw aching from the girth but feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue makes you moan. Jungkook's head falls back when he feels you moan around his cock, and when he finds you peering up at him with wide eyes, teary from the abuse of his dick, his cock twitches in your mouth.

"I'm gonna fuck your face now, can you take it?" He asks, pulling your face back by your hair and you nod eagerly.

"I didn't know you were such a cockslut, noona," Jungkook grins before he shoves his length down your throat. You immediately choke but he doesn't relent, shoving it down until you're pressed against him. You swallow wildly around his length, making him groan.

"Fuck, you're such a sight, noona,” he rasps, “With my cock stuffed down your throat."

He pulls out a little before thrusting back in, abusing your throat and you enjoy every minute of it. You gag every time he has you pressed against him, your eyes trained on the way his muscles go rigid.

"Look at you, getting your throat fucked like a whore," Jungkook says, enthralled by the way you swallow around his cock. "You're gonna have me cum before I've even fucked your pussy."

You hum, hips beginning to grind on the desk at the prospect of Jungkook fucking you.

Jungkook pushes his entire length into your mouth once more, letting it sit there as you sputter, the sides of your mouth dribbling with a mixture of your spit and his precum, before he pulls you off completely, his hand replacing your mouth as he slowly fists his cock.

You're breathing hard, gasping to catch your breath but your eyes don't leave how he's slowly working his shaft, hissing when squeezes at the base. You eye the way his abdominal muscles clench every time he thrusts into his hand.

"Can I-" You begin but stop, a surge of shyness falling over you and you avert your eyes.

"Hmm? What was that?" Jungkook asks, bending down so he's in your field of vision.

"I...I've been fantasizing," you explain, turning towards him again, slowly lifting your hand to have it trail down his chest. "About riding your abs... can I?" You ask, peering at him with your eyes wide.

"And you ask me why I work out so much when you have such a muscle kink, noona," Jungkook teases but moves to make you stand on your feet. You wobble on your feet a little but catch your balance quickly when Jungkook takes your seat on the desk, leaning back against the wall.

You quickly scamper to straddle him, his face so close to yours. Without thinking, you close the distance between the two of you and catch his lips with your own. He moans into your mouth, grabbing ahold of your waist to push you onto him, tilting your head to lick into your mouth. You start slowly, experimentally rubbing your abused pussy on the hot skin of his abdomen. You moan loudly when your clit rubs against the flexed ridges of his muscles.

"Mmm, as much as I love the sounds coming out of your mouth, ___, you have to be quiet," Jungkook says, kissing down your neck. "Unless you want the whole party to hear what you're doing."

You nod eagerly, biting your lips to muffle the sounds of your moans but the idea that anyone outside could figure out what the two of you doing sends a jolt of excitement down your spine and only make you move faster against him.

"You're so dirty noona," Jungkook bites your neck, making you whimper. "You want everyone to hear you, right, you want them to watch me fuck you."

You shiver when he slides a hand down your back and whine when he makes you sit up. At your dejected expression he chuckles, "Noona, do you want me to stuff you full of my cock or not?"

At his words, you move at lightning speed, standing on your shaky legs in anticipation. He's quick to stand up, moving behind you. You watch him sift through his jeans until he brings out a condom but you shake your head. "I-I'm on the pill," you clarify. "Want to feel you inside me."

“Fuck,” He groans, fisting his cock, "I can't believe how perfect you are, ___."

He moves behind you again, grabbing you until he's had you bent over the desk. "Now, you have to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?" He says, smoothing a hand on your back and you eagerly nod, spreading your legs so he can stand between them. He drags his cock over your entrance, slowly sliding it down without adding any pressure so it slips down your entrance and nudges your sensitive clit. You yelp as streams of pleasure zap down your legs.

"I thought I told you to be quiet, noona," Jungkook chastises, "I bet you want Taehyung to walk in and see, don't you? Or is it Hoseok hyung, want him to see me fucking you in his room?"

You moan loudly at his words, eyes falling towards the door, where anyone could walk in an see the state you're in.

"Or should I stuff your panties in your mouth if you can't listen."

Unable to answer, you let out a breathy moan when his cock slides down your slit again, biting your lips to hold it back but ultimately fail.

"Guess, I have no choice," Jungkook says before stuffing the black lace into your mouth.

"Can you taste yourself, ___?" He asks, nudging your entrance with the head of his dick and you let out a muffled moan, nodding when your flavor hits your tongue.

"Do you taste how sweet you are, noona?" He pushes the head in and you groan, your walls clenching down, making Jungkook hiss.

"Fuck you're so tight, noona or is my cock just too big for your tiny pussy," Jungkook grits out, pushing in until half of his dick is lodged inside of you. Your legs are shaking at this point, walls convulsing at the intrusion but it feels so good to have a cock — Jungkook's cock — inside of you. There's no guilt to the realization like you had been expecting, it feels nothing but right, like you were meant to have him filling you to the hilt. The sudden realization has you pushing back on his length, silently asking him to stuff you full, and he easily complies, pushing in until his length seated completely inside of you. Both of you still for a moment, you're left a whimpering mess, feeling so utterly full that you could just snap in half. Jungkook is no better, he shudders when he feels you convulse around him, cock twitching inside of you.

"F-fuck," he grits out, voice wavering. "You don't know how long I've wanted this for," he groans, leaning against you until his body is molded perfectly above yours.

You peer up at him and are shocked to see how fucked out he is, sweat beads his forehead, slowly sliding down the side of his face as he bites his lips raw.

"Noona," he groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "I can't believe I'm inside of you."

You shudder when he presses himself even further inside of you, and you feel like you might explode when he hasn't even started moving yet. You clench down on his length once more that has him break out of his thoughts and he pulls out before he's slamming into you again. You shriek into the lace at the brute force of the pace Jungkook's fucking into you. He's relentless with his thrusts, his thick cock filling you to the hilt before he's pulling out again. It's obscene, the way he's grunting and the way the slap of skin against skin reverberates through the room. You're lucky that the music is loud enough that nobody can be privy to what's going on inside.

You moan and drool against the fabric, hands desperately finding purchase onto the desk. You feel like the whole table might break apart against Jungkook's monstrous pace. His hold on your hips is so strong that you're sure he's leaving bruises on your skin, and that only makes you groan in delight at the prospect of having his marks branded on your skin.

"I won't last long," he grits out, voice deep and tinged with a guttural groan. You nod against the wood, eyes watering, letting him know that you're in the same state. Even if you didn't have your mouth stuffed full, you're sure you wouldn't be able to make a coherent word leave your lips. It's like every cell in your body is on fire, igniting every time Jungkook furiously fucks into you. Even after having this on your mind all summer, nothing could have prepared you for the sheer pleasure of actually feeling his cock inside of you, the way pushes into you. Without even having the realization of your impending release, the coil snaps and you're hurtling headfirst towards the strongest orgasm you've ever had in your life. Every muscle in your body goes rigid as you clench down onto his length with all the strength you have, stars glittering behind your eyelids as your walls flutter and convulse relentlessly around his cock. The feeling has Jungkook moaning, his forehead resting on your neck before spurts of hot cum begin to fill you up even more. He fucks you with even more vigor until you've milked out everything from him. He fucks his cum back into you one last time before he stops in his stuttering pace and collapses on top of you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, catching your breath. His body encases you in a sweltering heat, crushing you but you relish in the feeling of the sticky heat between the two of you. He presses chaste kisses on the base of your neck, his breath still heavy. It's silent but you feel complete, like a part of you had been missing and you just found it. You feel perfect.

Before he moves to get off you, he takes the lace out of your mouth and meets your lips in a deep kiss. Helping you stand up, his eyes follow the way his cum dribbles out of your pussy before he's quickly stuffing it back inside.

"Keep that in there, okay?" He says before he's kissing you again.

Both of you change quickly and in silence, you tie your hair back haphazardly, hoping you can play it off as being far too drunk to care about your appearance.

When you look back at Jungkook, you notice him shoving the ruined pair of panties in his back pocket. Raising an eyebrow in question, he chuckles. "It's my souvenir for waiting this long to get to fuck you."

You scoff, looking back at your reflection to look at your ensemble once more before you're heading towards the door. Jungkook stays back so you can make your exit first. The music is still loud, even though the crowd has thinned out since you were last out there. You move towards the kitchen and grab yourself whatever cup you see to make your lie more believable. Peering out into the living room, you don't spot Hoseok or Yoongi anywhere, though you do notice a passed out Namjoon, bonsai tree still clutched tightly against his chest.

You don't move from your spot, even when you see Jungkook emerge from Hoseok's room, and he doesn't come to you either, opting to move back to his group of friends where the girl he was with eagerly clings onto him again.

You frown, even though it hadn't bothered you before, seeing her with him leaves a heavy feeling in your chest. You watch on as he easily laughs and blends into the crowd once more until you can't ignore the feeling anymore. Shaking your head, you're quick to move towards the entrance, suddenly feeling the telltale signs of an oncoming headache.

The following day, least to say, goes by seemingly uneventfully. Unless you count the fact that you catch Yoongi and Hoseok sitting in the kitchen when you make your way down the stairs. He’s quick to greet you with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

“What?” You squint, taking a seat next to him on the kitchen island.

“So you and Jeon finally get to do the nasty or what?”

“W-what?” You blanch at his words, choking at the piece of toast you'd stolen from his plate.

“Come on, don’t even try to hide it, I saw him go into my room after you, gotta admit, I really thought you'd end up with Taehyung last night but I guess I was wrong,” Hoseok shrugs, taking the stolen piece of toast back from you.

“If you thought she’d end up with Taehyung, why'd you bet on Jeon?” Yoongi grumbles, shoving a couple of bills in Hoseok’s open palm.

“Wait!” You snap, “you guys actually bet on it?”

Hoseok completely ignores your dramatic exclamation and turns to Yoongi. “Call it my own personal spidey sense, I can sense when people fuck…like I sensed that you were getting fucked yesterday.”

Yoongi’s quick to smack Hoseok across the back of his head.

“So… my grand plan worked out,” you pass a smirk to Hoseok, and hold out your palm.

“Wait you guys bet on me?” Yoongi looks between the two of you, eyes wide.

“Hey, gotta make a living and stay jobless at the same time somehow,” you shrug, counting the bills in your hand.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about you and Jungkook,” Hoseok points his fork towards you. “You still have to tell me the gruesome details.”

“I’m not telling you any details, that ship sailed when you started bumping uglies with my brother.”

“Hey, I’m willing to spill, you’re the one who was so against it,” Hoseok shrugs, “Plus, I need to know if I have to burn my sheets or not.”

You pause, giving him the side-eye before you smirk. “Not your sheets… but you may want to get yourself a new desk.”

The next few days followed by slowly. You find yourself finishing off all your assignments with little to no distractions — unless you call watching the entirety of Instant Hotel a distraction. By the third day, you’re back to your normal routine and you decide that the whole thing with Jungkook was the cause of your lack of sexual gratification, and you’re totally over it. It kind of sucks that you had to literally fuck it out of your system to stop lusting over your dongsaeng, but it happened and there’s nothing you can change about it. That’s what you decide — that you were completely okay.

Except that, you’re not. On the fifth day, you have a meltdown over the whole ordeal, and even Hoseok can’t make your anxieties go away. You avoid the backyard at all costs and don’t even turn to steal any more alcohol from your mother’s stash because, just as you blame your lack of a sex life that landed you in this situation, you also blame alcohol. This time, though, you’ve truly quit alcohol.

It’s on the seventh day that you actually see Jungkook, he doesn’t see you but that’s mostly because you duck out of sight before he gets the chance. It’s not like he was on his way to seek you out either, you see him jogging towards his dad’s truck, probably out on his way to run some errands. At least he hasn’t been hanging around your house these days, which makes the whole thing less awkward. Now, all you have to do is go through two more months just like this and you’ll be back in college, far, far away from here.

A week. It’s been a week and approximately three hours since you had gotten a glance at Jungkook. With your more recent research, you declare that you are indeed not okay. And to your luck, you have no effective distractions — Yoongi — to your disposal. You’re home alone, having exhausted your last remaining brain cells by watching reality tv for seven hours straight. You’re casually perusing through Netflix once more because one more episode couldn’t hurt, when the doorbell rings.

You huff, wondering if you’d ordered a pizza and had forgotten about it, which seems quite impossible, but still, you don’t cancel it out completely. But what you find after opening the door is even more shocking than a forgotten pizza delivery. None other than Jeon Jungkook stands outside your front door, sheepishly smiling at you.

“Yoongi’s not home,” you say, immediately grimacing at your harsh tone, not expecting it to hold that much malice.

Jungkook’s eyes dart to the side before he nods, “Uh, yeah I know,” he clears his throat before looking back at you. “I came here to see you.”

“Okay...” you say, moving to the side so he can walk in. You make your way into the living room without waiting for him, trying really hard to appear casual but end up standing in the middle of the room with your arms crossed. “Why’d you ring the bell?” You ask once he’s inside, “And why’d you come through the front door?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I-it’s because I wanted to do things properly,” he shifts on his feet, “And I don’t think barging into the room will do us any good.”

It’s not difficult to understand what he’s referring to, making you frown at his choice of words. “Listen, if this is about that night, it’s all good okay? You don’t need to worry about that, we were drunk and these things can happen to anyone so you don’t need to bother yourself over something like that. I don’t expect you to do anything about it, I’m a big girl and I can take it,” you ramble on even though your mind is screaming at you to shut up!

“It’s not about that!” Jungkook blurts out, “Uh, I mean, is it technically about that but not what you think,” he reassures right after.

The two of you stare at each other in awkward silence for a few seconds before he breaks. “Listen, ___,” he begins, sighing. “I just wanted to apologise—”

“Like I said Jungkook, you don’t need to,” you interrupt him.

“Will you let me finish, ___?” Jungkook asks, smiling at you and the look alone has you shutting up. “As I was saying, I’m sorry for how I left things last time. I should have been more clear about my feelings.” The more he talks, the more he flushes. It’s so strange seeing Jungkook stammer around you now as if he didn’t stuff your own panties in your mouth a week ago to get you to shut up. But you can’t complain, you’ve always loved to watch him squirm.

“What I mean to say is, noona... I meant what I said that night,” he continues, “About how long I’ve waited to-” He clears his throat awkwardly. “How long I’ve waited for you.”

You still blankly stare at him, not sure where this is going at all. Was he trying to have another round? He’s probably figured out that no one was home, and honestly speaking you wouldn’t be opposed to it either…

“I like you, ___,” he blurts out. “I’ve always liked you but I never thought you even saw me as a... man… until recently. And I know we, uh, have done it, but I still wanted to formally tell you.”

A smile starts lighting up your face as he continues to stutter and stammer out a confession.

“Jeon Jungkook!” You exclaim, “Are you… asking me out?” You ask, fully grinning at him now, even though you know the answer already.

He’s bashful under your gaze, moving to rub at his red ears, “Um, yeah I am,” he says before handing you a paper bag you hadn’t noticed before. “It’s the end of the month, after all, so I guessed might as well shoot my shot.”

You take the bag, peering at it curiously until you take out what’s inside: a bottle of Pinot Noir.

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