#(edgy and owning it over here!!!!)

[randomnameless]

Why do we still have in 2024 stupid takes like Rhea created and enforces the crest system?

Bcs Rhea BaD anon.

More seriously,

FE Fodlan is one of one of the most divorced FE verses from its fantasy elements (see : Nabateans being as important as Ignatz's leather shoes) : Tellius has the Laguz existing, Archanea/Ylisse has manaketes hanging around and being a core point in FE Archanea, Elibe has its entire history involving dragons and the best ending finally be about acceptance between the two races, Magvel has zombies, Valentia has terrors and in SoV we have dragons and magic dragon blood, Fates has dragons (and laguz-like!) and even Jugdral have people with magic dragon blood.

(i ranted and ranted and ranted under the cut, so it's a bit long)

Unlike Fodlan, Jugdral's "people with magic dragon blood" are a key element to the story told at large, and it bleeds through the mechanics used to tell that story. FE4 wise, toddler!Seliph has a S rank in swords when Beowulf, even if he trains his entire life, will never achieve A rank in swords. Base!Julia with her holy weapon can smack Loptyr, when max!invested (at least lore wise) Forseti!Ced will never be able to kill him.

It's unfair for Beo and Ced, but that is how the verse works because, in that verse, some people are mc guffins or "the only ones" who are able to do something, or even, straight out, stronger/have more talent than others.

In traditional fantasy settings we have the "same" sort of rules, you have elves who do X and Y, humans won't can't, dwarves who can't either but they can do W, orc who can do J, etc etc.

Even for all of the "deconstruction of the genre!" gimmick ASOIAF has, according to some people, Dany is fire-proof and Jon most likely survives after being assassinated because he is a Stark and can use his doggo as a back up save, both things Edmure Tully will never be able to achieve.

Tolkien has Numenoreans being straight up blessed by the Valar/stronger/longer lived/etc etc than middle-earth humans, on top of also having elves, dwarves and ents.

Ergo : power inbalance is baked in the fantasy genre.

And yet, the writers often manage to tell some version of "the ones who have less power are no less important", like with Tolkien, it's a bunch of hobbits who manage to take down the greatest "evil" of their era, or some message like "having more power/being more important means you are bound to help the ones who have none" thingie.

In Fodlan, the "beings who have more power" than humans are the Nabateans (+ Sothis herself!). Sothis can create life, her daughter - through unknown means - can create artifical beings, one her children can control weather (the one who was turned in a milkshake for Charon!), one of them has monstruous strength (the one turned in a milkshake for Blaiddyd), one of them could communicate with animals (Timotheos iirc - if we assume he was a Nabatean or got his powers from his crest), her granddaughter can set up an AOE to heal what would otherwise be fatal wounds (it's heavily implied this is what Flayn did when she overused her power and went comatose) etc etc.

This is the original power inbalance in Fodlan.

Then some humans "stole" this power from Nabateans, and got a share of it themselves, which is what is later called "crest" : aka, some humans got a part of the super/magic powers that Nabateans originally had and thus, because, for all intents and purposes, "super-humans".

Now, Fodlan discourse started with FE16 being released in 2019, not that long after GoT's ending - which was trash - and in an era where fandom turned from "harmless fun" to "something that looks like activism and earns you point if you manage to use it to express your real life opinions".

In 2019, after Dumb and Dumber tanked GoT and removed most of ASOIAF fantasy parts to deliver "sex that sells" with a moldy plot, some part of the fandom started to conflate and harass people over what they like, and how it, apparently, reflected on their real life opinions ("if you hate this female character it means you hate women!"/"if you think X becoming king is a good ending, you don't value democracy!").

So, we have this fantasy setting with its inherent power inbalance... that quickly became something that is/was unacceptable, because IRL, power inbalance is based on bullshit and something everyone decries - so if your beloved media reflects on what you like IRL, you can't like a setting with an objective power inbalance, even if is justified by magic which doesn't exist irl like shooting eyebeams or some people being more "special than others" who can live up to 1500 years old.

Fodlan's power inbalance, for some parts of the fandom 2019, cannot be justified by traditional fantasy settings so, those settings/fantasy elements are straight out ignored.

Thus the "crests"' magic effects/powers are ignored, and dumbed down to, roughly, what a middle school student would think "nobility" is/was in the Middle Ages/Renaissance.

Jean-François Marie Pierre de Bourbon isn't inherently better at smashing things with a sword than Bob, or at healing than Roger, any "advantage" Jean-François Marie Pierre de Bourbon has over them is, maybe, that he started training earlier.

In Fodlan?

If Jean-François Marie Pierre de Charon has a major Charon crest, he can dance and clap in his hands to summon rain. Bob and Roger, no matter how hard they train, will never be able to do that. Jean-François Marie Pierre de Charon will thus be seen as having higher "value" or being straight up "better" than Bob or Roger, because as long as he is here, your crops will never suffer from drought.

But... we can't have that, because if you confuse fandom and real life opinions and aspirations, you cannot admit that some people in Fodlan are inherently "better" at something, only because of their blood, otherwise, what would it translate to IRL?

This is why, imo, part of the fandom (and the game sure doesn't help! Fodlan is no Jugdral and its gameplay lacks coherence regarding the in-game lore! Remember how Raphael can use a relic and only loses 10HP, when Miklan, plot wise, was turned in a demonic beast?) that loves this take, arguably, reduces crests to a title and family name.

Why should the Bourbon family rule over us, when they're no better than Roger or Bob? Isn't it unfair the Bourbons are still valued nowadays when the only thing to their fame is their name, and not what they are actually doing?

The game plays coy about crests - we know each of them has a specific power - but it never reveals what are those powers (lore wise!) save for 2 of them. So are crests superpowers, or just a family name with a particle, or both? Is the "system" (a friend made a post debunking any idea of "systemic" application of this notion in the three countries) based on bullshit, or on, objective superpowers?

Dimitri tries to tackle the issue, but only around relic usage : the Gautiers are valued if they have a crest because they can use their superweapon to protect the border. But what about valuing House Charon's ability to bring rain and guarantee good harvests? What is the other superpower tied to the crest of Gautier that isn't "use a femur and wreck havoc with it"?

If Marianne's ability to talk to animals is tied to her crest, why isn't it more developed? Instead of having useless shit like talking and befriending horses like a Disney princess, we could have Maurice-blooded people be masters of counter-intelligence, imagine if they can talk to birds/rodents and ask them to scout various areas or spy/ask them what they saw ! Hell, we could have had a situation where in a fog of war map, where Marianne, if, idk, through Billy fed enough animals in the monastery, would have a better field of vision than anyone else, with some blurb/one-line about her relying on the animals around to know and see what is going on! Alas, it wasn't meant to be.

FE16 eludes the question, because the character who "questions" a world centered around "crests" is the marketable asset of the game, and cannot be challenged in any meaningful capacity v- she feels it's unfair that her crest seemingly dictate her life, and only in the gacha game with ery serious writing like the Heavy Plate Corps or Sniddies, does she get a modicum of self-reflection - or at least someone challenging her - where she is told that she could use the superpowers she has to help people instead of blaming the world for getting one.

In a traditional FE setting, where some Lords question why they were born with power/or are in powerful positions, the answer is always that no matter what they were born with (or without in Leif's case!) what is more important is what they decide to do with that power. Elincia never wanted to become Queen? She will still fight and protect Crimea and its people. Marth is the last hope of Altea, even if it means leaving Elice behind. Seliph doesn't want to fight in Thracia anymore or feels like he's a fraud? He can turn tail and return home, while the world around him falls apart. Leif also feels like a fraud because he doesn't have superpowers like his cousin? Does that mean he should turn his thumbs and watch as his people are being caught/enslaved/sacrificed?

In Fodlan you have no reflection like this : Linhardt is, imo, the best example.

Dude hates blood and has a crest (aka magic powers) geared towards healing, you could make a case that for someone who has hematophobia, being a healer is difficult and this would be the reason why he refuses to heal/use his powers to help people around him... but no. Lin's laziness is played for laughs, and his refusal to do anything not related to his topic of interest is never questioned/analysed under the angle of, say, a head nurse who has no crest and laments that she couldn't save everyone who was hurt during an assault, who snaps at him for having the "gift" he has and not using it for the sake of people around him.

"What Lin decides to do with his power?" : Well, nothing.

Instead we have a reflection on his bright mind going to waste if he lazes all day long, culminating in his Supreme support where an Imperial facility is created specifically to cater to his tastes, that will enable him to research crests as much as he wants...

But still, nothing about his innate "healing" power!

In the end, it's no surprise that part of the fandom latched on that "crest = nobility title" because the Fodlan verse refuses to develop anything about its fantasy elements (hell, iirc Nopes swaps "crests" for "blood" and "titles" in its Supreme route ?).

"Sure, but where does Rhea fit in this nonsense?"

Rhea is, in this vision, the ultimate target !

For all of the "I ignore fantasy elements", Rhea is always (in FE16 at least!) turning into a dragon : no matter how hard you want to ignore fantasy, she's here to remind you tht, in this verse, dragons exist.

But most importantly, as Fodlan must be analysed through an IRL lens otherwise modern fandom cannot engage with it, Rhea, by virtue of being the lady in charge of a religious organisation called "Church", is also seen through a lens : Rhea BaD bcs Religion BaD and Catholic Church BaD.

FWIW, thanks to the five years of discourse we had, I learnt more about cultural values and differences existings between, here and the rest of the world - especially a place that is overepresented on fandom spaces - on organised religions especially the catholic church. Of course this bled on fandom takes and analysis, which projected some users' irl bias against the Catholic Church on the fandom organisation and entity that is the Church of Seiros. Combine this with secularism being now weaponised and used to ridicule people in spaces like r/atheism and you have a perfect recipe for "Religion BaD = Catholic Church BaD = fictional organised religion with a catholic flair BaD".

Granted, given how a certain loLcalisation team also originates from this place, it's no surprise that some "creative liberties" they took tried to hammer even more, let it be in the script or the fucking "what is this game about?" page on their website, how this fictional organisation is basically a squenix trope of "evil cult manipulating everything in the shadows and sekritly controlling the world".

Besides, the main heroine of the game (even if that comes with a twist!) opposes this faction (CoS and especially its leader!) and, by the way those games are built, as seen earlier, they cannot disavow her too much, else the entire gut-punch the devs were gunning for (you are betrayed by your beloved character! But unlike what happens in Baten Kaitos, you only are attached to her because she is your avatar's simp) will fall apart. So she must be, somehow, right and not motivated by more personal and heinous reasons, like not accepting "non-humans" to have powers over humans, or thinking the world is not a place for them (this was carefully scrubbed out in Nopes, btw!).

If Supreme Leader, who we are supposed to root for and whom the game ultimately rewards because "reforms" happen in the endings, says that the CoS is the reason why humans value superpowers, she must be right, or at least, not completely wrong???

Which raises the final point on this topic : FE16 came in 2019, which was election year in the US, and we all know that election time in the US means the rest of the world is also affected, even if the rest of the world, well, isn't the US. As I mentionned, the US is over-represented in fandom spaces, and fandom is far from being a safehaven from all the mayhem and passion that always boil during election time and its immediate following.

Coupled with the "my fandom faves define my real life opinions" thingie I already wrote about, and we had an explosive cocktail for bad takes, needless aggressivity, ridiculing people with dissident opinions because they are seen as "wrong", etc etc. And let it be something trendy or not, especially when (young?) people are arguing about "politics" in online spaces, but it always boils down to gross simplification of various complex issues and/or using catchphrases or "shock-value" words to win over whoever is reading/listening.

(et je ne dis pas ça parce que certains de nos politiques font des "immigrés clandestins ou pas" la source de tous les maux, ou le fait que nos députés font la même chose en ce moment, Jonluk et Marine main dans la main, pour paralyser l'Etat afin de pousser Manu à la démission et éviter la case prison pour Marine)

I always thought the "CEO of racism" was a meme, but through Fodlan discourse, I started to wonder if it was something started seriously by someone who really thought that "racism" is caused by one person.

And we finally get to the point : somehow, somewhat, Rhea is supposed to be responsible for people/humans valuing superpowers.

Forget that the same "quest to obtain those superpowers" led to the extermination of her kin, or how the devs themselves explained that people - at least in their setting - always want more power :

As a result, what would happen to humans who gained power... they would want even more power, and find a dragon much stronger to beat in order to collect materials forcefully, in order to make even more powerful weapons... and so that was the cycle that was born. And that was the birth of Fodlan's Ten Elites

Wait, kill that, those superpowers don't exist since the game and the characters (bar Catherine, but I agree with @9thwither here, Cat is one of the most overlooked characters in this fandom!) never talk about them, so they don't exist...

Rhea is thus the reason why people value bloodlines - especially since those bloodlines don't come out with superpowers.

It sounds better and closer to what you could "hear" irl, from someone who's discoursing on the internet to explain "why" some people are more valued than other, it's because of religion and the Pope! It cannot be because of, well, human greed or just the need to have more power (for good or wrong reasons), no.

"But random, the Church most likely promotes a "divine right to rule" doctrine and let the 10 Elites' families rule over their clans in Faerghus thus gain nobility!"

Sure, but everything is moot if you consider this : to make this take viable, we ignore the game and consider that crests are just bloodlines, and not, objective sources of superpowers.

So why are we, discussing about this hypothesis/theory, even arguing about what the game says and/or does?

Bob Blaiddyd can kill a giant lion/wolf with his fists at base level, is it because of a supposed doctrine that people rally and want to be in Bob's graces, or because Bob has the power to protect them all? Karen Charon can summon rain, are people siding with her because Rhea told them to, or because Karen can make crops grow?

In conclusion : why people are still, in 2024, sprouting those takes?

1- Because they refuse to engage with the game and realise that it is a fantasy game belonging to a very specific genre

2- Because fandom opinions reflect on your real life opinions and likes : so they must find a reason to oppose what their perceive as an unacceptable power inbalance otherwise it means that they support the various inequalities that exist IRL

3- Because Religion BaD and bar the "projected takes from transposing feelings about an IRL church on a fantasy one" more and more people tend to prefer an "easy to proceed" solution than think about multi-causal issues and find solutions that might not.

Of course, I can already guess that some people might argue that they don't "refuse to engage with the game" since this take is more a less a condensed version of the Supreme spiel, and as developed above, the game does - willingly - a shit job at demonstrating that her spiel is nonsense (they had to add the "greed" part in an interview released after the game and its only and final DLC!), just like her sockpuppet who supposedly learns how misguided he was in certain routes... only to end with the same ice cream, albeit with a different topping.

However, Dimitri and Sylvain mention how crestless children are disowned in Faerghus... when Dimitri's own uncle is ruling over a domain himself, Ingrid's brothers exist in the background and Gustave is still Baron Dominic's brother, on top of having been the royal master at arms for at least, depending on the route, 3 generations of Faerghan kings.

In a game where Dorothea can blame the Goddess for fighting in a war her bestie started - without anyone pointing this out - it's obvious this verse has unreliable narrators, but after 5 years and having played all routes in both games + a DLC + a dev interview explaining how and why some humans acquired crests...

Tl;Dr :

Reason 1- is most likely the most prevalent why this take exists anon, "because some people refuse to engage with the game" with the added topping of "save for what Supreme Leader and her sockpuppet say that I can use to demonise the characters I don't like".

[kismetconstellations]

@sockdooe, the ignorance of this "analysis" is melting my brain.

What are your thoughts?

[rawliverandgoronspice]

devotion. (Impa's main theme from my ongoing Zelda fan animatic project, Thralls of Power)

[muskmelon-enjoyer-199x]

Ive been reading a lot of african history lately (mostly late-colonial and early-postcolonial stuff about politics, conflicts, and social movements) and this came up in my amazon.

Like i get that it's an important topic to have records of (especially from an author involved in the events) and that this is a self-published thing but

Did this guy literally have no one with any taste around to critique his font choice?

[renthony]

You won't get media with messier, more nuanced, more realistic queer characters if you keep flying off the handle the second a fictional character has sex, does drugs, swears too much, or acts vaguely like an asshole.

You won't get more diverse queer media with wider stories if you can't handle it when queer artists make art that is raunchy, crude, edgy, and gross.

You won't get more diverse queer media if you shut everything down the second it does something you, personally, get squicked out by.

You will never get more diverse queer media if you contribute to the way queer media is picked apart, raked over the coals, and held to unreasonably high standards.

You will never get what you want if you keep tearing queer artists down for their weird experimental art instead of learning how to say, "this isn't for me, that's fine, and I'll be over here in my own space."

[ocegion]

The (unintentionally) funniest things in the very serious vampire novel Dracula by Bram Stoker, in my most humble personal opinion

Count Dracula, whose only topic of interest is his own glory as a warlord of times past, dressing up as a servant and cooking, setting the table and folding sheets among other housework to fool Jonathan, probably while muttering to himself 'it's okay Vlad you're still cool you're still cool' over and over again

Dracula throwing a fit at Lucy's window while in bat form like 'You shut out Dracula? You shut him out like the mosquito? Oh, vampirism for you! Vampirism for you for all eternity!'

Dracula, once again at a window while in bat form trying to listen to Van Helsing planning his demise, and being fucking shot at by Quincey Morris and having to flee like 'wait what the FUCK was that???'

On the topic of how trigger-happy Morris is; Van Helsing going on about all the traditional lore on how to figh vampires and Morris saying 'how about we just fucking shoot him' 'yes we'll take that into account too, extra credit'

'oh lmao it's that bitch Harker, can't believe he made it out of my cas- shit he's got a knife' *immediately jumps out the window and flees the country*

Mina, fully and acutely aware of evertything relating to Lucy's death, otherwise the most sensible character in the novel: Last night I dreamed about the creature from hell that lives literally next door and I woke up this morning feeling absolutely awful. I'm sure it's nothing worth mentioning tho

Dracula's demise being larlegy in part due to the fact that he spends most of his time dealing with English bureaucracy and leaving his mail lying around. like the lord of darkness himself sitting in an office to buy a ship ticket, being cryptic and edgy while the worker is just like 'yeah whatever here you go, next' is something that actually happens in the novel

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Ellie and Dan, but Danny was reincarnated as Damian Wayne

Danny Damian because he was Damian now, wasn't he? He remembers now the Fentons, the GIW, Sam and Tucker, jazz. He wonders if they could have also followed him here. A part of him longs to see his fraid again, but are they his fraid still? He was a new person. Son of The Bat and Heir to the Demon Head. Something Dami he remembers reminding people of. If only Sam could see him now, he knows she'd love that. "Who's edgy now?" He can picture her saying. He can almost see Tucker laughing so hard he'd fall out of his seat.

Crack

The sharp sound of the thunder brings him to the present. He looked over at his clock, 3:00 A.M. The witching hour he can hear Ellie tell him with a mischievous smile on one of their flights around Amity Park. She loved to drag him and Dan sometimes Vlad if he was feeling friendly. Dan, his future evil self tormented by the deaths of all his family and friends, so hurt he got Vlad to rip his human half out so he didn't have to feel the pain. Ellie, his clone, created by Vlad to be the perfect son, too bad she was a daughter. Looking down at his stomach where their cores are now incubating, he couldn't help but wonder if Vlad had anything to do with this.

He shook his head as if that would rid himself of that thought. Vlad was a real fruitloop,but he would never purposefully endanger Dan or Ellie. Vlad, in his twisted and weird ways, did love them in his own ways like kidnapping and keeping him hostage to save Ellie. He had forgiven vlad for the desperate attempt to save his daughter, but incubating Ellie and Dan's cores would make him their father now, too. Ew, coparenting with Vlad does not sound like a fun time. He glanced down and lifted his shirt hesitantly. If he focused on his stomach, he could see a faint blue and red glow emanating from his stomach. Red, Vlads' color, he thought distantly. Hopefully, it didn't mean much. As if signaling him, the envelope they had carried with them to him fell off the bed carried to the floor by the slight breeze.

Lighting lumineating the bedroom, making the crisp white color shine for just a second. He tentatively reached down to grab it. He was being a baby. He was a trained assassin from birth, and his fear trained beaten out of him a long time ago. Some part of him whispered his father and Richard's teachings of being brave but not without fear.

He paused. Father would want to know everything. His past life, Ellie and Dan, the ghosts, being a halfa. He wouldn't understand, Richard would try to, but not even he could never really understand. He couldn't subject his babies to that. He couldn't live with the threat to being ripped apart molecule by molecule. His father's lack of emotional intelligence certainly would not help young halfas. He was fourteen again the age he was killed in his first life. The age he started facing ghosts from another dimension.

He started younger in this life. Killing younger, he learned to fight his whole life. Jazz would hate that. Jazz... he wondered if she was alright if she survived the attack... no, there's no time to think of that right now. He ripped open the envelope( like a band-aid, Richard would remind him), and he noticed Vlad's familiar fancy fruitloop writing immediately(he had fancy fruitloop writing now, instead of the chicken scratch Jazz chided him over). So he was right about one thing this had vlad all over it.

Dear Daniel,

Though I understand you might not be Daniel when this letter finds you. I have been reincarnated into another life as I believe you have as well. My new name is Alexander Luther. I own a corporation called Lexcorp. I unfortunately can not change the name according to my board. The idiot lot of them.

He snickered at that. His smile dropped immediately. Vlad was Lex Luthor, the archnemesis of Superman. Jon would most certainly not like this. He forced himself to read on before he spiraled further.

I regained my memories after an experiment went wrong. I know how original. My new incarnation was able to open a small portal that grew in size, and eventually, somehow Danielle and Dan fell through. The portal then exploded, and I regained my memories. Unfortunately, it destabilized their clone bodies. I couldn't grow working bodies in time, and eventually, I had to hope they could find you. I hoped somehow that the yeti doctor would have imparted some of his strange knowledge onto you that might save them.

Vlad, no Lex still wrong. Vlad was somewhat right about that. During one of his all things ghostly lessons from Frostbite, he told him of how in the old ages ghosts often incubated their ghostlings. A protective measure back when magic and spirits were more prevalent. He didn't really understand it back then, and he doesn't understand it much now, either. Apart from the fact he was doing it, he supposed. What if he did something wrong and he lost them? He doesn't think he could live out his half-life if he lost them again. He needed to get to Vlad, and quickly too so they could start building a new portal to the infinite realms.

If this letter finds you. Come find me immediately at these coordinates. I've gone deep underground to escape my new archnimesis's suoer senses. I've m started research on a new portal, but I'll need your endeneering skills. This world is severely lacking in ectoplasmic science and engineering. I am once again forced to start from scratch on my own. Once we get the portal open, you'll need to go straight to The Far Frozen.

It's as if he's reading my mind, I think jokingly.

P.s. One of my experiments may or not have regiven then my new DNA in an attempt to restabilize them.

Only Vlad.

Well, it looks like they actually were going to be coparenting after all. This was going to go great.

I sigh and lean my head back down on my pillow. He committed the cords to memory before lighting the letter on fire with the lighter he kept in his bedside drawer. Point to assassin training. Jason would be proud. He supposed he could stay for a month or so before leaving, which would give him enough time to get away or think of some kind of mission to give himself. He shoots up. Todd had died and came back. He was a revenant. He couldn't stick around if he were to visit he'd know something was wrong immediately even if he didn't understand it.

He sprung out of bed quickly, but quietly, his foot steps perfectly silent despite his rushed mood of packing a bag. He packed a few pairs of clothes and lots of hidden weapons, some snacks he kept hidden for that should keep him fed on his journey but leaving any sentimental things behind. He glanced longingly at his sketch pad, but Vlad was most likely under the water judging by the coordinates he was given. Who knows if it would survive.

He checked the pack, making sure he got all he needed. He promptly checked it again. Twice. After deeming it sufficient, he willed himself to open the door. He mentally cataloged everyone in the manor. Pennyworth was most likely still in Father's room, making sure he actually listened to his insructions. Richard and Todd in Bludhaven and Crime Alley, respectfully. Cain and Brown in Hong Kong. Thomas was sleeping after his dayshift.

Everyone accounted for except Drake. He was most likely using Pennyworth's attention on Father to work cases. He just had to take the risk. For his ghostlings, for himself, Vlad. He crept down the hallways. He was opening the grandfather clock in record time. He went slower this time. He would use his powers, but his father had supernatural wards of all kinds in the cave. Who knows what they did. He was also admittedly trying to save his little energy for his voyage on the open sea. Light snoring hit his ears as he peered around the corner.

Thank ancients.

Drake was sleeping at the batcomputer, still in his Red Robin suit sans mask surrounded by his poor choices. Empty coffee cups and files spread around. He would still need to be quiet, Drake was a light sleeper, as was everyone else in his family. He grabbed the keys to his bike quickly, sneaking by. If he wasn't ditching his bike at Gotham Bridge, he would have disabled his trackers. He checked the gas and made sure he could make it. That's when he made his first mistake.

Putting the gas jug back down, he accidently hit another of one of his siblings' tools to the floor. He tried catching it without success, but it fell anyway, the loud clang echoing. Mistake number two.

Shit.

"Huh? What's happening?" Drake arose sleepily rubbing his eyes.

He froze. Mistake number three.

"Damian? What are you doing down here?" His eyes landed on him, and he spoke confusedly with his voice heavy with sleep or lack thereof.

He panics. He's blaming the pregnancy hormones on this.

He runs.

"Damian!" Drake responded to his dead sprint with his own. "Stop!"

He reaches his bike, and he turns the keys and prays. Luckily, it comes to life. He fumbles with his helmet it would hide his tears he needed it. who knows if he'll ever get to see them again. He shoots off down the tunnel. Flicking the cave door open remotely.

Another bike rears to life behind him. "Damian wants going on?" Drakes voice echoes in his ears. He can almost taste the concern in it amplified by the helmet. He ignores it and accelerates. He ignores the returned acceleration behind him.

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

Tim has no clue what made Damian panic enough to run away. He quickly ran to his own bike while swearing. Damian is already gaining distance on him. After another attempt at getting Damian to calm down and talk, he calls the only person Damian would actually listen to.

He hopes Dick will forgive him for waking him at five o'clock in the morning on his day off.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

A Well Deserved Grudge

Summary: You still hate them after their overblot

Notes: GN Yuu. Some based off some stuff from the light novel. Yuu is pretty evil in Jamils. General edginess that comes with angst

Based on this old post abt Yuu with scars

Riddle Rosehearts

A familiar click of heels has you on edge. As they approach you turn around to face him, messing with some of the bandages around your neck from your last encounter. There stood Riddle, his confident stance dropping the second he meets your eyes. 

His usual piercing gaze filled with anxiety as the words he so wanted to say— needed to say— died on his tongue. He's such a coward without a rule book. He's even more cowardly under your scrutiny.

"What?” You deadpan at him and Riddle swallows, looking at the bandages on your neck and arms. He then looks at your face, covered in a few scratches from rose bushes.

“... I… am here to… ” His voice shook toward the end and he took a breath to steady himself. “I'm sorry Yuu. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You merely raised a brow and fully turned to him. Riddle could see the gash along your neck that peeked through some of the bandages. A grim reminder on how his magic failed during his overblot. The expression you had on your face as the collar around your neck continued to tighten and cut into you haunts him.

“You’re apologizing?” A flicker of determination flashes in Riddle's eyes as he nods. 

“Yes. I know it's not enough but… I'm sorry.” The dullness of your eyes reminds the dormleader that this was far from enough to smooth things over.

“I do not forgive you.” He should have expected that, yet he winces still. What is he supposed to do in this scenario? What else does he say? There is no rule, no guide to what he has done. Deuce and Ace said that he needs to make things right, but how?

“... I understand. If there's anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, please–”

“I don't think there's anything you could do that makes this okay.” Your voice is dull as you pull at the bandages on your neck. “Shouldn't you be in the headmage's office fighting your expulsion?”

It was true. Crowley was to judge whether or not he was to be expelled for his actions. It scared him. “I… I am but–”

“Then go. We both know you won't be kicked out– Crowley doesn't have a backbone and your bitch of a mother will make sure you stay in. You want to ‘earn’ my forgiveness? Stay the hell away from me.” 

Riddle grits his teeth and closes his fist tighter. Emotions of all kinds surge through him. He's confused, he's guilty, he's angry, he's lost. 

Most of all, he's scared. Scared of your gaze, scared of how you hold yourself. Your eyes remind him so much of the ones above him he tries to please and they're boring into him with such disapproval.

“I don't want to see you around, get your shitty tantrums in check. Just because you lose your head doesn't mean others have to. Just go.”

By now you've turned away and started walking off. Riddle could only watch, unable to find the strength to move or say anything. It was probably for the better. He needs to go to the Headmage.

Jamil Viper

He hates this feeling. You have forgiven him, though and through, water under the bridge and he hates it. He hates how you shrug it off. He hates that you don't hate him. He hates this guilt.

He mind controlled you. You. A magicless and defenseless human who was already helping him. You who are in a position so similar to his. You who had no way to fight back. He kidnapped you, keeping you in Scarabia for days regardless of your own plans. If it weren't for your dorm ghosts feeding the fire fairies, Crowley would have cut off your food for the week.

Then he tried to kill you, and had the audacity to be angry at you for it. To add even more salt into the wound you were so kind with him afterwards. You didn’t seem to take it seriously. Take him seriously. Your attitude reminds him so much of Kalim which makes this even worse.

He hates your smile. He hates your attitude. He hates the way you have to walk because of your injuries. He hates seeing glimpses of the wounds on your abdomen from him.

Yet another reminder of his failures. How he hates someone that's not entirely to blame. How he hates someone that's overly nice. He avoids your gaze so often he doesn't notice the glints of satisfaction within it.

Vil Schoenheit

He could only stare at the prefect within the mirror. Their gaze so fixated on themselves and their new appearance they paid no mind to the hospital bed they should be laying in. He wants to lecture them to sit, lay back down and to stop sitting up, but he's sure they would break down if he did.

Blackened veins run along your body, your skin reddened and inflamed in random areas. Even with all the magical remedies the doctors have given you, the black tar like substance runs through you still. “Good going Vil. Really fucked that one up huh?” 

Vil’s eyes met yours in the mirror, he could see your face steel itself before you turned to him. Your eyes stood out against the inky scrawls of venom coursing through you. They were so cold, so angry.

“... I know this is something I may never be able to amend…” Vil starts, taking a breath. Fuck. Years of acting and hard work are lost on him. It is hard to keep strong when seeing how badly your own childishness, your own selfishness hurt someone this badly.

“I want to apologize. I know this is far from enough. I plan to not only cover any costs that may occur in your recovery, but to also offer my support in any way I can during your recovery.” 

Your gaze only hardens. "Bare minimum I guess…” You sniffle a bit as words slur. It was clear you were still inebriated. You weren't going to be the most logical right now, but that's fine. He will say this apology a million times over if it would make it right.

“... If there is anything you need..."

“Go away.” You sniffle again, wiping away tears. “Just leave.” Vil swallows and shuts his eyes for a moment. “I understand.” 

As he turns to leave the drugs in your system really start to kick in. “You… You really are a villain.” The words come out crude and harsh, no doubt you are speaking to hurt him. Yet as you turned away he could see your face in the mirror.

Scared. You were scared of him. You were scared and truly believed in what you were saying. And you weren't wrong. He is a villian.

Malleus Draconia

A mighty dragon places his glass heart in the hands of a human without their knowledge, and is enraged when the human breaks it. Except here Malleus broke it himself to protect himself from the possibility of the human hurting him first. Now he holds the shards of what's left and sees them stained not by his blood, but by yours.

A position he put onto you, his only friend. He does not even know if he has the right to call you that anymore. Not after his little stunt. Children of men do not deserve to be locked away in the dark, no matter how beautiful you were in it. They were to be free. Even if it hurt him. You and him could have been free together.

He looks at your expression. It still holds no fear, no anxiety, just as foolishly brave you were when he first met you. Instead it holds disappointment. Such a pathetic emotion that he would smite off anyone else if it wasn't you. 

“... You're really selfish, you know that?” You mutter and look away from him, as if not wanting to believe the words coming out of your own mouth. “Were we really friends or was I just some doll to you? Some obsession?”

A sniffle. “I wanted to be your friend…” Malleus hasn't the words to respond. He can only open his mouth then close it. “I know. I'm sorry. You made me so happy I wanted you all to myself. It's not an excuse, but when I thought I would be losing you, it was too much for me. I made… A very rash decision.”

There's silence. More deafening than the silence at his birthday parties growing up. “Is there any possibility you could forgive me?” It was a daring question, one he was afraid to know the answer to. 

“... I don't know, Tsuno. I think… I think I need some time to think about it.” You turn away from him and his heart sinks, the pet name does nothing to soothe his nerves.

He remembers all the times he's told you how his kind are born cruel and you would tell him that his actions have shown just how kind he could be. That him learning to be nice and overcoming his nature is more meaningful than anyone who was born that way. 

And he ruined that. He may not be able to choose his nature but he can choose his actions. He chose to hurt you.

[cripplecharacters]

How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special

[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]

Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.

Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.

Stop the stare.

I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.

Don't call us deformed. 

Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.

No more “What happened?!���s.

If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.

Stop insinuating that we are ugly.

“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean. 

Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )

Use critical thinking online.

Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus? 

If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.

To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.

We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.

Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings. 

We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.

Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.

New word! And a pretty damn important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.

Understand that we are people.

I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.

Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.

Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.

Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.

Pay attention to where we are not included.

As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?

Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.

We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate. 

Interact with our art.

We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything! Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.

Include us.

As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are!

I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's shallow and pointless.

Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them!

#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece

mod Sasza

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/why-i-will-not-hide/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2022/05/facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf

https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars

whoa thanks for actually clicking the readmore!!

[mimiamorewon]

jjk men’s favorite place to have sex 

—★ mdni, reblogs appreciated 

included: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso, takuma, & higuruma

content: (these are mostly jokes lol), suggestiveness, fluff, crack, explicit language

Satoru Gojo

Favorite place: The balcony of some skyscraper because he just loves being above everyone else. both literally and figuratively.

Gojo’s would no doubt go for maximum drama. He’d make jokes like, “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall,” whole time he’s the clumsy one who might just end up tripping over his own pants.

Suguru Geto

Favorite place: A quiet hot spring or getaway in the middle of nowhere, with a no-cell-service guarantee.

Geto absolutely loves the peace and beauty of it all, but there’s definitely a part of him that enjoys “embracing his mysterious villain energy,” as stated in his own words.

He’s the type to randomly monologue about the stars or the meaning of life mid-act, leaving you wondering if you’re being seduced or lectured. +Bonus points if he can dramatically pull his hair back as steam swirls around him like he’s in a perfume commercial. “Are we even here for the sex at this point?” you’d ask him.

Kento Nanami

favorite place: A swanky, ultra-modern hotel room, preferably one with a nice view and complimentary breakfast for the morning after.

Nanami is a man of precision and schedules, so the location must be clean, practical, and include its perks.

He insists on the bed being neatly made before and after. he’s not a heathen, after all.

The whole time, he’s probably calculating how many hours of sleep he’s losing and debating if it’s worth it (It always is.)

Toji Fushiguro 

Favorite place: The backseat of a stolen car, possibly still running, most likely in a fast-food parking lot.

Toji thrives on things like chaos and bad decisions, so naturally, he’s picking somewhere dangerous and trashy.

He’s definitely cracking jokes mid-action, like, “Think the cops’ll give us five minutes if they show up?” 

If the car is manual, he’ll probably accidentally hit the clutch at some point. but it’s all part of the “fun” he says.

Ryomen Sukuna

Favorite place: On the throne of his spooky, abandoned temple, surrounded by ominous torches.

Sukuna is extra in every sense of the word. He’ll insist on a spot where he looks like a final boss in a video game. +Bonus points if there’s a sacrificial altar nearby for “the aesthetic.”

He doesn’t have an inch of subtleness within him. He’d definitely say things like, “Bow before your king” while you’re simply just trying to bust a nut.

Choso Kamo 

Favorite place: A private moonlit garden, probably near a koi pond (he read online that it’d be romantic.)

Choso is sweet but awkward, so he’s constantly trying his best to nail the mood. He’ll light a million candles and bring up random facts about flowers- “Did you know they symbolize eternal love?”

He doesn’t even care about the location, it just has to feel meaningful. 

If you reassure him he’s doing great, he might actually shed a tear mid-session.

Bonus!!!!

Takuma Ino

Favorite place: A public library after hours. (breaking small rules is as edgy as he gets).

Ino thinks he’s being super daring, but the whole time he’s whispering, “Shh, baby, don’t get too loud..” like a paranoid hall monitor.

He’s the type to accidentally knock over a stack of books mid-action and panic, saying, “Holy shit— we’re gonna get banned from libraries forever.”

Hiromi Higuruma

Favorite place: A courtroom after hours, with papers dramatically scattered everywhere.

Higuruma is a walking contradiction, so of course, he’s picking the most ironically serious place possible.

He’s 100% the type to sigh mid-moment and say something like, “This feels wrong huh? but that’s what makes it right.” 

He’d definitely joke about “objecting” if you’d try to rush things due to your fear of being caught. 

@nanaslutt for the layout inspo !╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[moonstruckme]

You asked for holiday fic ideas…

I was thinking ice skating with lanky Remus and he’s just so good at it and it’s shocking but clumsy reader keeps falling down. Just something fluffy and cute

(I know ice skating isn’t technically just for the holidays but that’s what I think of typically)

Love you darling <3

I think of ice skating that way too! Thanks for requesting <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 548 words

“You weren’t supposed to be so graceful, you know.” 

Remus smiles, skating alongside you while you grip the wall of the small outdoor rink for support. Sunlight refracts off the ice, making it look glittery and almost blindingly white, and at the top of the rink is stationed a plump fir tree, standing tall despite the oversized ornaments weighing it down. It had been your idea to book the two of you an hour-long slot in the rink, and you’d been even more excited about the plan when you found that Remus, like you, had never been ice skating before. Unfortunately, it seems he’s let you down by not being a complete disaster at it. 

“Would you rather I was falling all over the place?” he asks you. 

“Yes,” you answer. No hesitation, but you make it up a sheepish smile. “You have a higher center of gravity. It doesn’t seem fair that you’re naturally gifted.” 

“Right, I see. I’ll try to make more of an oaf of myself.” 

“I’d appreciate if you would.” You’re smiling. It crinkles the corners of your eyes adorably. “We were supposed to hold hands and be awkward and clumsy together. It’s not cute if it’s only me.” 

“Of course it is,” Remus says, softly enough that you look at him like you’ve not quite heard. He touches your shoulder fondly. “I���m sorry to have ruined your plan. We can still hold hands, if you like.” 

You look like you’re considering it, but you don’t take your hand more than a few inches away from the barrier before it’s flying back. “Thanks, but I think I need them both.” 

Remus can see how you would. You’d given ice skating a valiant effort, but after a series of falls he’s sure will result in a patchwork of bruises around your knees for him to kiss later, the wall has become your most treasured ally. 

“Do you want me to grab something that will help?” 

“If you mean one of those penguins the kids are using, I’m going to cut our hour short.” 

Remus chuckles. “We can go, if you want to.” Although the sun feels nice, the wind is cold. He’s willing to bet that if he pinched the tip of your nose between his fingers it’d be half frozen. 

You look over at him in surprise, then soften. “I don’t actually want to leave,” you say. “I was only joking. This is fun.” 

“Is it?” 

“I don’t know, are you having fun?” 

“I am,” Remus admits. “But I can stand on my own two legs. Are you having fun?” 

You shoot him a playful glare, but your smile undermines it. “Yeah.” You shrug, self-conscious. “I mean, I’m a bit edgy, but I’m still glad we’re here. I always have fun with you.” 

Without his permission, a coo comes from between Remus’ lips. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, careful not to put any weight on you as he kisses your head. “Oh, you’re such a melt,” he says into your hair, teasing. You laugh but don’t push him away. 

Eventually, you let him take your hands. Remus isn’t good enough to skate backwards, so you stick close to the wall, wobbly and faltering, but that’s alright. Now you’re awkward and clumsy together.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.5 these feelings are hard to find

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 5/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.4k

a/n. aaaa this chapter took me a while because i was having some pretty bad writer's block. i seriously can't believe it crossed over 10k words, i very poorly planned how much i wanted to get done by this chapter, but i didn't feel like splitting it into two so oh wellll. hope you enjoy! pls excuse any typos we all live on a floating rock.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

“I really don’t understand why I’m here…” you’re grumbling as you, Mina and Todo make your way up the pavement of the driveway leading to the house party. You glance to your right where Mina and Todo are holding hands, arms swinging as they keep pace together. 

It was finally Friday after a particularly long and stressful week, so you were extremely excited to just spend the rest of the night relaxing at home. You had already poured yourself a glass of wine when you returned from your evening class and were sitting on the couch with a blanket on, scrolling through Netflix, when Mina approached you while she was talking to Todo on the phone. She mentioned something about an SAE party tonight that she wanted you to come along for and Todo said he’d extend his other invite to you. When you politely declined, Mina slumped down on the couch and told Todo she had no interest in going unless you also came. And then Todo was bribing you with a hundred bucks. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made. 

“Don’t be a downer. You’re here because I think you’ve been working hard and you need to relax a bit,” Mina chirps, now clinging onto Todo’s arm, “and there’s no better way to relax than getting drunk.”

“I could be getting drunk at home,” you mumble to yourself, the night you were imagining for yourself all day being very different from where you find yourself now. 

The guy that was bouncing for tonight’s party was scanning people’s phones and engaging in some small talk before allowing people inside. He was pretty handsome and you wondered if there was some sort of requirement written in the rules to the SAE fraternity that they must be good-looking to join.

“Hello, my brother,” Todo says as he approaches, smacking him so hard on the back in greeting that the man stumbles over slightly and sends an irritated glare Todo’s way before he regains his balance.

“Hey, big guy, are these your invites?” He gestures towards you and Mina, his eyes landing on yours and lingering for a moment. You blink at him. 

“Yes, this here’s my lovely lady, and this here’s my lovely lady’s friend,” Todo says with a faux suave that only makes you narrow your eyes at him. The man at the entrance sighs and nods before stepping out of the way and motioning the three of you towards the entrance. 

The minute you enter, you immediately realize that this party felt very different from the one you were at last week. It was slightly less crowded, but there were still plenty of people bustling around the large expanse of the ground floor with loud rap music that practically shook the walls. It was dark, much more edgy, with the only source of light being the sporadic flashing of lights over by the DJ’s booth. You felt disoriented from the atmosphere, and the smell of weed and alcohol only further dazed you. 

“This is insane,” you barely hear Mina say beside you over the music as she looks around the expansive interior of the house. In between the brief flickering lights that lit up people’s faces, you register that Todo is grinning at her as though he was entirely satisfied by her reaction. 

You only make it a few steps inside, trailing behind Mina and Todo, before feeling the need to excuse yourself to get away from the intense environment for a second. “Hey, I think I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Todo, do you have any idea where it is?” You feel like you’re shouting just to be heard. 

He looks over his shoulder at you. “There are some downstairs but they probably have lines. You could try upstairs.” 

You give him an appreciative nod and head over to the base of the staircase at the right, glancing up before making your ascent. There didn’t seem to be anyone else upstairs, which surprised you, but you figured you were just in luck and began to walk up step by step until reaching the top. The music downstairs begins to sound muffled as you turn around the railing post and make your way to the left into the narrow hallway likely leading towards the bedrooms. There's a white door somewhere in the middle of the hallway that could only be either a closet or a bathroom. You wrap your hand around the cold metal door handle and twist, satisfied that it wasn’t locked.

The mumbling noises of people inside doesn’t register in your mind until you’ve already cracked the door open half-way, and your entire body recoils in the immediate rush of embarrassment washing over you as you take in the sight of two people, a man and a woman, getting handsy with one another in the bathroom. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” is all you manage to squeak out, blinking dumbly at the scene. 

You’re quick to avert your gaze and about to close the door, incredibly mortified by what’s just happened, when the familiar silhouette in front of you causes you to freeze. You slowly lift your line of sight from the bathroom floor until Gojo Satoru is looking you straight in the eye from where he has a girl on the bathroom counter clinging to his shirt. 

“I…” you stutter, face feeling immediately hot as you let go of the door handle and look away from his shocked face. “Sorry,” you say again, this time barely above a whisper, before turning on your heel and making your way down the hallway in such a hurry that you don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way. You hear a feminine voice echo something in the bathroom like what the fuck are you doing?, and then there’s footsteps following after you that sound faster than your own. Ignoring the call of your name, you practically storm into one of the bedrooms, entirely relieved that it was empty, and can only take a couple of steps inside before a hand grabs at your wrist. A chill runs down your spine from the contact.

“Wait, y/n,” Gojo says behind you from where he’s followed you inside, sounding like he’s out of breath. His hand is still holding onto you, keeping you still and you can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin. When you turn around to face him, he’s close to you and you see his chest is heaving, his hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled at the front and there’s a crease in his brow. 

Your eyes don’t stay on his for long before you’re looking away from him again. “I’m…I’m really sorry, that was really awkward,” you say with a forced laugh and an attempt to wiggle yourself free of his grip but he’s unrelenting. The image of his fingers sliding up that girl’s top was still burned in your vision and no amount of excessive blinking at the carpet beneath your feet seemed to make it disappear. 

“No, I’m sorry, I was supposed to lock…” his trails off and you notice there’s a rough quality to his voice, “that was just-, we were just-”

You finally brave yourself to look up at him and he somehow seems closer than before, his face just inches away from yours and his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before he meets your gaze with a tense expression on his face. You haven’t seen him look so flustered before, and you’ve certainly never heard him struggle this much to find his words either. 

His other hand rubs the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in what looks like frustration, then takes a deep breath to seemingly calm himself down before speaking again. “She’s…We’re just friends,” is all he manages to say. 

There’s a silence between the two of you as you blink at him and he stares at you, his thumb pressing into the skin of where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You try really hard to bite back the words you’re about to say, but no amount of willpower could’ve helped you. Your chin tips up, looking at him more decisively, and his gaze is flickering to your mouth again. “Just friends…can’t say I’ve ever tried to get my friends naked in the bathroom at a party before.” You didn’t understand why your tone came off so hostile, but it felt good to criticize his choice of words for some reason.

His lips press together, gaze narrowing slightly and eyebrows furrowing further at your words. He leans in closer to the point where your senses were entirely occupied by him and it was impossible to think of anything else. “Well, you weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes are contrite but his tone is vexed. 

You relax your body language and use your other hand to forcefully slide his hand off of your wrist, encountering some resistance from him before he acquiesces. Your skin tingles from the absence of his touch and you take a step backwards away from him. His posture straightens slightly, eyes continuing to dart across the features of your face and wide in anticipation as though he was patiently waiting for you to say something that would put him at ease. 

“It’s fine,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice as level as possible, “I accidentally walked in on something I shouldn’t have. You don’t owe me any sort of explanation for it.” Gojo seems to tense up even further at your words, his expression briefly contorting into one of confusion before it reverts to concern again. 

You walk around him towards the bedroom door and see him in your periphery watching every step you take until you eventually exit the room. This time, you don’t hear his footsteps pursuing you from behind. It’s only when you make it past the bathroom, not even daring to take a look inside of it, and about halfway down the hallway that you unsteadily let out the breath you were holding in. Your hand takes its place over your chest in a flimsy attempt to calm your heart down as you quickly make your way down the stairs. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew you just had to get as far away from here as possible. 

You’re barely able to spot Mina from where she stood with Todo in a corner near the backyard screen door, and briefly notice that Nanami, Geto, as well as a few of their other teammates were clustered there too. You politely acknowledge their pleasant greetings to you as you approach Mina, pulling her to the side.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” She asks, stumbling a little bit and you let go of her sleeve. 

“I’m going to go home, not feeling well, I think I just got my period,” you easily come up with a lie, “Nobara says she’ll pick me up.” In truth, you were planning on just calling an Uber for home, but you knew that Mina wouldn’t let you go home by yourself. You didn’t want your confusing and heightened emotions ruining her night.

“Wait, are you sure? I’ll come with you,” she’s quick to say, taking a step towards you but you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine, stay here with Todo,” you demand, “and call me if you need me to pick you up. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” You give her a little hug and she’s standing there confused before hesitantly nodding, and then you make your way to the door. The loud music, flashing lights, and blurred faces around you were so intensely stimulating that when the cold air from outside finally hit your skin, you felt like you were human again. 

The Uber comes by in less than ten minutes as you wait for it on the sidewalk. The driver drops you off at the entrance of your apartment complex and the biting chill of the air has you wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the elevator to take you upstairs. Glancing down at your phone to check the time, you see a message from Mina asking if you were home yet. You also see that it’s nearly one in the morning.

Finally making your way inside your apartment, you lock the door behind you and text Mina that you’re home, then slide down with your back against the front door until you’re sitting on the floor. The heat inside was so comforting that you just spent a moment to warm yourself up and just breathe. 

Memories of your conversation with Gojo from just half an hour ago instantly come to the forefront of your mind and you’re shutting your eyes to try and repel the thoughts away. Still so embarrassed that you walked in on him making out with someone, your brain decides to mortify you even further by asking what if you had walked in a few moments later instead? What would you have seen then? 

You squish your cheeks between your hands defeatedly before letting out a sigh and drawing your legs in towards you, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by what you saw. You’ve only met Gojo twice, and you knew even before you met him that he was that kind of person. He had a reputation of being involved with a lot of women, so his rather eager desire to explain himself to you just puzzled you even further. 

Standing up, you head over to your bed and flop down on it. Your wrist still burns with the memory of the heat of his hand, and all you can see behind the lids of your eyes when you close them is the sight of him so close to you, stealing glances at your lips. 

Somewhere along the night as you drifted in and out of sleep, Mina called to let you know that she was on her way home. When you hear her open the bedroom door and set her purse down on the nightstand near her bed, your body finally convinces you that it’s okay to rest, and that’s exactly what you do.

---

The weekend is over in the blink of an eye, simply not enough time to mope around in bed, and you’re walking out of your last class of the day on Monday. You check your phone pretty much every other minute to see if Gojo has sent you any messages regarding their new practice schedule for the week, which you’re sure he’s received by now, but there’s nothing. The last messages sent between the two of you were before the party on Friday, and an uneasy feeling has been settling in. You spent most of last week appreciating how helpful he was being so far, but you didn’t even consider the possibility that he could rescind his help at any time too.

You head over to the Department of Communication & Journalism building, making your way up the stairs until you reach the graduate division floor and walk down the hallway to Room 212. As you make your entry, a toasty and rich scent overtakes your senses. 

“Ah, y/n, hello! So good to see you, thanks for coming by. I missed seeing you last week,” you hear Utahime say as she sets down a cup of coffee for you on the conference table in the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I was just…very mentally occupied last week,”  you admit to her, setting your tote bag down on one of the chairs before taking the seat where the cup of coffee was placed, the fragrance instantly waking you up as you take a sip. “Thank you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you, just working through my thesis,” she says with a sigh and takes the seat next to you. “Just a few more months…just a few more months, and I’m free!”

You smile at her and watch as she pulls out her laptop, the start-up noise chiming before she starts clicking away at the million tabs that were open. “Did you receive the email I sent you for the newsletter shots?” You ask.

Utahime was a 4th-year graduate student in journalism and was also the head of the school’s newsletter. She has so graciously allowed for Film Club photography shout-outs in every monthly issue for the past couple of years.

She nods. “I did,” she says, resting her elbow on the table and tapping her index finger to her chin, “how come I didn’t see any of your photos in there, though?”

You sigh, sulking your shoulders slightly as you peer down into the brown liquid of your cup and watch the steam evaporate. “I didn’t really take great pictures this month.”

“Aw, well are you working on anything right now?” She returns to clicking away at tabs.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking film photos out on the field of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni next week. It’s for an assignment,” you tell her and watch as her face lights up.

“That’s wonderful! That’s a pretty big gig, they usually only let professionals out on the field. How were you able to secure that?” Utahime asks you as she tips her head to the side.

“Ah…let’s just say I have some sort of deal with one of their players?” You say. Your heart drops a little when you remember the lack of communication from Gojo as of recently, wondering if he was able to get that referee permission for you.

“Which one?” Utahime asks with a teasing smile, leaning over to nudge you with her elbow.

“Gojo Satoru,” you say and then she’s pulling away from you and rolling her eyes, an annoyed look making its way onto her face. You let out a small laugh at her behavior. “Okay, well now I’m curious.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she peers beyond the window of the room. “I was his TA when he was just a wee-little freshman. He was always showing up late to class and trying to flirt his way out of completing assignments,” she grumbles, “is he still a little brat?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking way harder about her question than she had probably intended. “I don’t know…I don’t really know him all that well.” You look down at your hands. Despite the fact that you’ve only known Gojo for a short while, for some reason you felt like you did know him well. You knew the kinds of things that made him smile, you knew the look in his eyes when he was deep in thought about something. You knew what the heat from his body felt like, what the fragrance of his clothes smelled like. 

Utahime is silent for a moment as she studies you. “Hmm,” she’s humming next to you, “well, tell you what, send me your photos when you’re done with them. If they’re good, I’ll use your photos for the sports recap in the newsletter instead of the professional ones we get sent from the school. I can compensate you for them as well.”

Your eyes widen as you look at her, jaw dropping a bit as you blink in disbelief. “Utahime…you would do that for me?”

She gives you a smile and a wink. “Of course, talent helps talent. And it’s my newsletter, I can do whatever I want with it. Besides, you want to get into the school’s film graduate program, right? I’m sure it would look great on your application that you’ve had some of your portfolio published to the school’s official reports. The photos have to be good, though.” She points a finger at you and gives you a strict look.

You feel tears prickle in your eyes from her words, so overwhelmingly grateful for her support, and can barely whisper out a thank you before she’s rushing over to the other table to grab a tissue box and set it in front of you.

“Gosh, why do all my undergrads cry in my presence?” she complains as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to you.

You dab it to your eye. “Because you have such wholesome mom energy.” 

You say goodbye to Utahime after discussing a few more things and then leave the room. You check your phone and your heart skips a beat when you see Gojo’s name in your notifications.

|| 1:43PM Gojo Satoru: Hey, just wanted to let you know I was able to get that referee permission for you for next week

You let out a tiny gasp when you read his words then clutch your phone to your chest in relief. Utahime’s offer of the prospect of getting published in the school’s newsletter gave you a large sense of purpose, and you felt like it was time to take this assignment of yours extremely seriously to secure the opportunity. And Gojo was the one with the power to help you do that.

|| 1:52PM You: thank you so much, i really don’t know how to repay you

You sigh as you make your way to the stairs, grateful that you were getting some communication from him. The big game on the 28th was next Thursday, and you really needed to practice taking photos with your film camera. You open Instagram again to ask him for his practice schedule, but you see that he had sent you another message.

|| 1:54PM Gojo Satoru: No need to repay me, consider us even. Also sorry for the late notice, but we’re having a formal practice match in about an hour with one of the teams we played against earlier in the season. Do you want to come by?

After reading his message, you quickly shuffle your tote bag open and peer inside to see that you did indeed bring your film camera with you to campus today. Excited, you type out a response.

|| 1:55PM You: yes! i’ll hesd over right now

|| 1:55PM You: *head over

|| 1:55PM You: lol

You see little bubbles indicating typing in the left side corner.

|| 1:55PM Gojo Satoru: Meet me by the art sculpture, I’ll walk you over

You blink at the message for a few seconds, starting to type out a message before deleting it, and doing that a couple more times over. When someone tries to shuffle around you from behind, you notice you were standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs so you step away and lean against the wall. You press your lips together in consideration as you realize that today would be the first time you’re going to see Gojo again after that awkward interaction that you had with him at the party last Friday, and you were really not sure how you were going to feel having to be alone with him again.

|| 1:57PM You: that’s okay, i don’t want to trouble you

His response is instant.

|| 1:57PM Gojo Satoru: Just meet me there

Once you’ve made your way across campus, you spot Gojo sitting on the concrete barrier surrounding the art sculpture by the fields practically right in front of the please do not sit on the concrete barrier sign. His head is turned away from the direction you were approaching from, arms crossed at his chest and one of his legs impatiently bouncing up and down. You notice he’s wearing the school’s colors, a teal blue shirt and gray shorts that had some highlights of a sunset yellow, as well as gray athletic soccer shin socks and cleats. He looks so ridiculously sports boyfriend that you have to shake your head to try and physically fight the effect of how attracted you were to him.

He must’ve heard you approaching as you crossed the street towards him since he turned his head in your direction. He’s wearing a black sports headband across his forehead that’s pushing the hair up out of his face and you’re startled by the intensity of his blue eyes on you. When he stands up, his arms fall to his side, making you sad that you could no longer shamelessly stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had his arms crossed.

“Hey,” he says simply, staying perfectly still where he stood. 

There was only one way to dissolve an awkward situation, and that was to pretend like it never happened in the first place. You tip your head to the side, giving him a curious look before skipping right on up to him. “Hello, there,” you cheerfully say. He looks at you with a borderline annoyed expression.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Almost tired. 

“Yes, very good mood,” you chirp as you walk past him, “I just got a very good offer.”

The sound of the bottom of his cleats on the sidewalk follow after you as you head in the direction of the softball batting cages. It's not long before he emerges at your side in your periphery. “What kind of offer?” You can tell from his tone that he was trying to restrain his curiosity. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” you say as you look up at him and smile. He gives you an irritated expression due to your lack of transparency but you continue to skip forward until you’ve made it to stairs that lead up to the grassy hills. 

Gojo’s about a step’s distance behind you as you lightly frolic across the land, your heavy tote bag bumping against your hip with every jump. You feel something fly out of it which halts you in your gleeful stride and look behind to where your bluetooth laptop mouse has fallen onto the grass right in front of Gojo. He’s sighing before crouching down to pick it up, then takes a step towards you and extends it out to you. When you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you and his face is hard to read. 

You grab the mouse from him, fingertips brushing against the skin of his palm, and he ever-so-slightly shivers at the touch. His gaze finally meets yours.

With a sigh, you toss your computer mouse back into your bag. “I’m trying really hard to not feel awkward around you right now, but you’re making it pretty difficult.” You were so used to feeling like he has the upper edge of conversation when you’re with him, but now you felt like you were the one with the power.

He raises an eyebrow at you and when you look at his hands, you notice he was apprehensively cracking his knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel awkward if you actually stayed to talk last Friday.”

You cross your arms across your chest, disliking his tone. “Stayed to talk? About what? How not close you are with your ‘friends’?” 

He tips his head up to the sky and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing like he was entirely frustrated by you, before he looks back down at you again. “If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but what’s with you always running away whenever I try to talk to you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well that night,” you mumble to him as you turn away and continue to walk towards the practice field. It was the truth, you weren’t feeling well that night, and it was because seeing him kissing another girl made your stomach drop to the core of the Earth. But that wasn’t something you were going to admit to him. It wasn’t even something you were ready to admit to yourself. “Also, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t care to believe you.”

“But why don’t you care?” he’s asking you, his voice sounding desperate now as he makes his way to your side again. He’s looking at you but you’re looking straight ahead.

You roll your eyes, continuing to march forwards. “Not everyone cares about your love life, Satoru. Contrary to what you might think.”

He jogs ahead a few steps, now walking backwards in front of you and you narrow your eyes at him. His tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek and then there’s a boyish grin on his face. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you ask.

“My name,” he says. 

You almost roll your eyes out of your head when you see his amused expression. “I seriously can’t believe this right now,” you’re muttering under your breath and walk past him down the large hill leading to the practice field, his gaze on you burning through your skin until you’re rubbing at your cheek with the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to physically wipe the blush away.

The practice field was much more crowded and busy than it was during the first practice you went to last week. Looking across to the other side, you see a group of men huddled near one of the benches, all of them wearing maroon-colored shirts with black shorts that have gold stripes running down the side of them. None of them were wearing jerseys, but you assumed they were wearing their school colors as some sort of distinguishing clothing that would help them during the practice match. 

“Satoru! Where the hell have you been?” You flinch upon hearing Coach Yaga’s stern voice nearby and you look over to where he had his arms crossed and glaring at Gojo through his thick sunglasses.

Gojo walks past you towards the benches and gives Coach Yaga a salute. “Sorry, sir, personal business.” He then makes his way over to the rest of his teammates that were huddled on this side of the field. There were a few tables located on the sidelines that had refillable water stations, bottles of Gatorade, towels and all sorts of other athletic gear. You walk up to one of the tables and fix the settings on your film camera before taking a snapshot of the items laid out on it. 

The atmosphere is light since this wasn’t an official match and so you spend some time fidgeting with your camera before they get started. You can only imagine how tense it must be during a proper tournament game at the actual stadium off-campus, the thought of thousands of people spectating from stands sending a shiver down your spine. Athletes were of a whole different breed, despite how wholesome and down-to-earth most of the UTokyo soccer players you’ve met so far were.

Eventually, Coach Yaga and the other coach from the opposing school blow their whistles, both acting as referees for the match, and the players scatter themselves across the field. You notice Gojo is at the center of the circle in the middle, his foot on top of the ball as he scans his eyes across the field to each of the players with a focused look in his eyes. He draws his foot back, and just when you think he’s about to kick it forwards to where he was looking, the back of his heel makes contact with the ball instead and it’s sent swiftly behind him towards Geto. Instantly, all the players begin to move across the field, some of the offensive opposing side charging towards Geto as he shuffles the ball between his feet before kicking it way ahead of him to another one of their teammates. You bring your camera up to your face and take a snapshot when one of the opposing team’s defenders makes an attempt to steal the ball. 

The play continues further, both teams playing a push-and-pull with the ball. Gojo makes an attempt at a goal before the opposing team’s goalie lunges for the ball that was flying in the air straight towards the net, catching it in his arms and then crashing down onto the ground. Somewhere along the intense match, the coaches call half-time and you’re shocked by how fast the first half went by. 

Some of the players retreat to the benches to quench their thirst and wipe the perspiration off their faces with their towels, while others remain on the green expanse to pace around while catching their breath. Your attention is drawn to Gojo who stood at the center with his hands on his hips and breathing visibly heavily. He leisurely shuffles the ball between his feet with an innate rhythm before passing it off towards Geto who stood a few feet away from him. Gojo pulled his headband off of his face, his hair falling over his forehead onto the sheen layer of sweat above his eyes. With each breath, his chest rises and falls, lips parted in a display of exertion, and then he grabs at the hem of his shirt to lift it to his face, exposing his toned torso, as he wipes away the sweat at his temples. Your eyes widen at the sight, almost entranced as a wave of arousal suddenly consumes you, before he releases his grip on the fabric and it falls back down. He pushes his hair back up out of his face with one of his hands, the other securing the headband back onto his forehead with a snap, and the muscles of his arms tense fluidly with every motion. 

You quickly look away from him, afraid he'll catch you staring, and blink at the grass as you notice the fast beating of your heart. Coach Yaga's whistle blows, causing you to look back up again. Players were making their way back onto the field and Gojo found his position at the center again. His eyes darted across the field, making their way onto the faces of each player, and then they eventually landed on you. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly into a small smile before he's looking back down at the ball by his feet. And then they start the kickoff.

UTokyo ends up winning 3-1, and by the end of the match the sun is starting to set, painting the sky beautiful hues of purple and orange. You lean over to pick your things up off the grass as the players make their final retreat to the benches, and you gently place your film camera back into its case when Gojo’s voice next to you makes you jump.

“Hey. Please don’t run off,” he says. When you turned to look at him, he was still breathing a bit fast and he had a flushed, almost serene, look across his face. “Give me your phone.” He extends his open palm out to you. 

“My phone?” You ask him, reaching for where it was located in your back pocket and pulling it out. He nods without any further explanation. You place it in his palm and he’s tapping away at it before handing it back to you. When you look down, you notice he gave a random number a call.

“That’s my number. Save it,” he says. You blink at him. His expression is soft for a moment and then he’s turning around and away from you, heading over to where his teammates were crowded around one of the tables and giving each other pats on the back.

You tip your head to the side to watch him as a couple of his teammates sling their arm around his neck and smack his chest, masculine laughter and jokes filling the air. You can’t help but smile before you pick up your things and start making your way up the hill away from the field, back towards the heart of campus. 

---

The following days of the week where you don’t see Gojo play soccer seems like a waste, because why weren’t you spending every single day of your life watching him play soccer? You sigh to yourself at the question as you use clothing pins to hang up the film photos you took up onto a wall in your school’s photo lab. You finished developing the photos from Monday’s practice match, only to realize that you accidentally took them on one of your black-and-white rolls instead of full-color. You step back to take a look at all the images you had clipped onto the string pinned to the walls, snapping a shot of the collage with your phone, before pulling them all back down and stuffing them into a Manila folder. 

The only time the photo lab wasn’t bustling with other film & photography majors was usually after sunset, but by the time you finished having dinner with one of your friends on campus, you had made it there around 7PM. By the time you leave and make it to your parked car, it’s pitch black outside. As you step inside your car and turn the key to ignite the engine, the windshield wipers automatically swiping as the control lights inside come to life, the clock on your dashboard reads 10:37PM. 

The GPS for some reason prompts you to take an alternative route back to your apartment that avoids the freeway in an attempt to save you from twenty minutes of traffic, and you consider what to do for a moment before the exhaustion in your bones convinces you to take the allegedly faster way home.

As you begin to head in the unfamiliar direction, the excitement you had to make it home as soon as possible slowly starts to dwindle more and more as the streets morph from well-lit and bustling with people to dark and surrounded by trees instead. What used to be a three-lane street turned into one, and you count the seconds between every passing car you see coming by in the opposite direction. You’re worried when your counting makes it past sixty seconds. 

You turn your music up in your car to distract yourself from the fear of driving down the secluded and dark road. There was a slight fog settling up ahead in front of you to where you could only see clearly about thirty feet ahead. You spot something on the road, blinking rapidly to focus your vision, and then your eyes widen when you realize what it was. Rocks.

You’re instantly swerving your car to the side, attempting to deftly avoid the scattered rocks but unfortunately you drive over a few of them, causing your tire to pop and you let out a scream when you lose handle on your car. One of the rocks flies up and hits your windshield, cracking the glass, and suddenly you’re driving up over the curb to the right before you finally regain control of your car and swerve back onto the road, slamming on the brakes.

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body, and you grip onto the steering wheel while you try to regain your breath. Your windshield had a large crack in it, large enough to where the cold air from outside was whistling its way inside your car, and you were slanted in your seat due to the punctured tire at the front. As you took deep breaths, you noticed how alone you were on a dimly lit street where you hadn’t seen a single car in more than five minutes, fear and anxiety surging through your body. Your hands reach for your phone, shakily turning it on and exhaling in relief when you see that you have reception, then call the emergency telephone line.

“Hello, how can we help you?” a feminine voice on the other end of the line says.

“Hi, um,” you say, voice sounding shaky, “I just got a flat tire on Musashi road, about five miles from the Main Street intersection. I don’t have a spare on me, and my windshield is cracked too…could you send roadside assistance?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the woman says kindly and begins to take down some information from you. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, there has been a big accident on the freeway, so many of the tow-trucks and officers have been dispatched to that area. It may take about an hour for help to arrive. Are you able to call someone to come stay with you as you wait?”

“Oh…” You press your lips together in thought. “Yes, I should be able to.” After working out a bit more logistics with the woman on the other line, you hang up and then you’re scrolling through your contacts. You first call Mina’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, and then you remember that she was out of town for tonight and half of tomorrow visiting her family. You call Nobara, who also doesn’t pick up, and then a couple of your other friends who go straight to voicemail as well. You start to panic slightly before calling your friend Maki who lives two hours away.

“Hello?” You hear her voice say when she picks up.

“Maki! Oh my gosh, thank you for picking up,” you say to her through the phone, your hand on your chest as you sigh. You explain your situation to her and she’s instantly providing you with soothing words. 

“Is there no one that can come stay with you? I feel awful that I’m so far away,” she says.

“It’s okay, they said that help will be here in maybe fifty minutes now…I just really wanted to talk to someone,” you say, peering out into the darkness of the night. You’re still shocked you haven’t seen a single car drive by in the past ten minutes. You pull your phone from your face to check the time and see a notification on your phone that says 5% battery remaining. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Maki asks worriedly.

“My phone is running out of battery…” you say with a defeated tone. Your anxiety starts to rise in your chest again. “I don’t know if I can stay on the line.” You scroll through your contacts again, finger halting the screen when your eyes land on another name. “I…I think I have someone else I can try calling.”

“Good, try that. I don’t want you to be stuck out there with a dead phone and a flat tire. Let me know if this person doesn’t pick up, okay?” She’s saying to you and you send her your location before hanging up.

You’re breathing heavily from fear when a particularly harsh gust of wind pushes more cold air through the crack of your windshield. Pulling your phone from your face, you click on the name in your contacts and bring your phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost a third time before you hear a click and then a voice.

“Y/n?” Gojo’s voice calls out, sounding surprised. 

Hearing his voice immediately causes a wave of relief to wash over you and you lay back in your seat, having to muffle the abrupt sob that threatens to erupt from the tightness in your throat. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Mm…no,” you admit to him, sniffling slightly and swiping at the stray tear that rolls down your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m just a bit scared right now.” Your voice cracks towards the end of your sentence and you silently berate yourself for not mustering enough emotional strength at the moment. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice starting to sound uneasy. 

“I was driving down this road, it was dark, I couldn’t really see much…but I ended up driving over these rocks and my tire punctured. I called for roadside assistance and they said it would take about an hour for help to arrive,” you ramble, “I tried calling Mina, and some of my other friends to come and wait with me, but-” You run out of breath to finish your sentence and you’re sniffling again. 

“Send me your location, I’m heading over right now,” he says and you hear what sounds like keys jingling in the background along with some other shuffling noises, “can you stay on the line?”

You pull your phone from your ear and see that you’re at 3% now before sending him your location. “No…my phone is running out of battery.” 

He’s silent for a second on the other end. “It says I’ll be there in twelve minutes. Just…hang tight, okay? Make sure your doors are locked.” 

You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, so you say I will. He’s hesitant to hang up on you but when your phone flashes from 3% to 2%, you tell him you don’t have much of a choice and then he’s giving you another word of caution before reluctantly hanging up. You’re all alone to your thoughts in your car again, shaking from the anxiety and blinking tears away. 

The twelve-minute wait felt so long, and eventually Gojo texts you that he’s one minute away when your phone is at 1% battery. You see headlights approaching behind your car in your rearview mirror, the first sight of another human being you’ve seen in probably the past thirty minutes stepping out of the driver’s seat and you immediately recognize his silhouette. He walks up to the passenger side door and tips his head down so he’s visible through the window. At the sight of him, you finally release the breath you were holding in before opening your car door and stepping outside. You both look at each other across the top of your car and you notice him letting out a deep breath of his own as his shoulders relax at the sight of you. 

He makes his way wordlessly around the front of your car to you and he’s studying your face intently. You look away from him when you realize he could probably tell that your eyes were puffy and that you had been crying. From your periphery, you see the back of his hand reach out when he’s right in front of you, hesitating slightly before it briefly brushes against your cheek, dabbing at a tear that you must’ve missed. His hand is warm against your skin and the sudden desire to hug him consumes every single fiber of your being, but when you look up at him, the soft expression on his face renders you still. 

“Thank you for coming,” you’re whispering to him.

He lets out a short comical exhale through his nose. “I wasn’t going to not come. What kind of person do you think I am?”

You shiver as another gust of wind passes through, crossing your arms across yourself. Gojo slips the jacket he was wearing off, revealing a beige sweater underneath, and then he’s circling around you to place it over your back. It’s cozy and it smells like him.

You’re about to voice your concern for him but his voice behind you cuts you off. “I run warm, don’t worry.” 

He walks around to the front of your car, bending over to the side to assess the flat tire at the front, his hands shoved into his pockets. You pull his jacket around you tighter. “Damn, the tread on your tires is horrendous. No wonder. You should really check on them more often.” He straightens himself up and peers at the crack across your windshield. “And that’s definitely not gonna be cheap to fix.”

You sigh in annoyance, his casual tone causing your eye to twitch slightly, but when you noticed your heart was calm and your breathing was normal again, you looked at him with the realization that him just being here managed to soothe you. 

He looks back over at you with a considerate expression. “Do you want to sit in my car? It’s chilly out here.”

You press your lips together before shaking your head. “I feel like I need the fresh air.”

Gojo’s walking over to the patch of grass on the pavement at the side of the road and sits down on the curb. He pats the spot next to him with an awaiting look on his face and you make your way to him, sitting to his left. He looks down at the distance you’ve put between the two of you, almost three feet, and he’s sighing before scootching closer to you. “Don’t be greedy with your body heat. I said I run warm, not that I’m a furnace.”

His shoulder brushes against yours and his knee bumps against your thigh as he gets comfortable. You bring your legs closer to you and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin on top of your knee. Gojo was leaning back onto his outstretched arms behind him, legs extended in front as he tipped his head back up to look at the sky. You look over at him. His gaze slowly shifts from one point in the sky to the other, and you wonder what he’s mapping with his eyes. 

“Thank you for getting the referee permission for me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him in person. “I’m excited to take photos out on the field next week.”

“Sure thing, my freaky little photographer. I’m sure you are,” he chimes. 

You stick your bottom lip out in an annoyed pout. “So, we’re even now.”

He looks over at you and smiles. His blue eyes were a bit darker underneath the starry sky with less light to reflect off of them, and the quality made them look gentle. “No, you’ve gotta make sure Mina stays interested in Todo.” 

You can tell he’s just joking, but you respond as if he’s serious anyways. “That was never part of the agreement,” you say, “besides, I don’t really think that’s necessary. She seems to be pretty taken with him already.”

He laughs. “And you’re not worried about that?”

“What’s there to worry about?” You ask.

“I don’t know, the fact they hit it off so fast?” He shrugs and you feel the friction of the movement against your shoulder.

“Hmm, no. Mina’s a smart girl, she’s good at sniffing out those red flags,” you say assuredly before lifting a suspicious eyebrow at him, “should I be worried? He's your friend. Enlighten me.”

Gojo shakes his head musingly at your concern. “Todo’s a good guy,” he says in a soft voice.

“He’s not on the soccer team, right? I didn’t see him the past couple of times I was on the field,” you say with realization.

“Nah, he’s just a mad lad I met in my freshman year econ class. We’ve been friends ever since,” he says, swaying his knee from side to side. “He’s the one that got me to join the frat.”

You two are silent for a moment, listening to the noise of the wind through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. The previous anxiety you had from the night completely dissipated into peacefulness instead, and the man beside you was responsible for that shift. 

“Can you tell me what that offer was that you were so excited about earlier this week?” he asks.

You look up to the sky briefly, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Oh. I might be able to publish the photos I take of the game next week to the sports recap in the school newsletter,” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, eyes widened. “Woah, seriously? That’s so cool. Can you make sure I look hot?”

You roll your eyes and go back to resting your chin on your knees. “Sure.” 

A comfortable silence settles before he’s speaking again. “What inspired you to be a film photographer?” He’s turning his body so he’s facing you a bit more directly. 

“Well, the end goal is film movie making…but my professor says that it’s important to understand the art of film photography before that,” you say, twiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “He says that ‘if a filmmaker cannot master the single frame shot, then how can they possibly put together a film composed of a million of them’?” 

Gojo is humming beside you and nodding in agreement. He turns away from you to face forward again and he starts tapping his foot on the pavement of the road. “Huh. That’s kind of similar to something coach says during drills.” 

You glance over at him, a little surprised. He continues to stare forward with a somewhat innocent expression on his face, and then you can practically see the moment another question pops up into his head. 

“Why don’t you make your Instagram public? Your photos would probably get a lot more views or likes that way,” he says in an excited tone, like he’s cracked some code. 

You let out a small laugh and bury your face into your knees, your voice sounding muffled when you speak. “I did have it public for a while. Until a troll spammed a bunch of hate comments on my posts and I quickly switched it to private after that.” Saying it out loud, you felt a bit silly. You’re apprehensive as you say the next few words. “I guess I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be acknowledged or successful, and that somehow other people will see that truth before I can.”

“Oh come on, y/n,” he’s saying beside you, gently nudging your arm with his elbow. The contact causes your breath to catch in your throat. “You just have to go for it. You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t face your fears.��� When you watch those words leave his mouth, you notice he now has a thoughtful expression as he stares ahead to the other side of the road.

Another beat of silence goes by. “Why did you start playing soccer?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a long time as he blinks, to the point where you’re unsure if he even heard your question, but then he finally answers. “My dad used to play in college. He introduced me to the sport when I was younger and I fell in love with it.” Your perk up slightly and tip your head to the side in curiosity. He’s looking down at his lap now.

“That’s really wonderful, Satoru. Was he also center forward in college?” When you ask him this, you don’t miss the way his eyebrows pinch together for a split second before his expression relaxes again. 

“Yeah, he was,” he responds, “he got injured in his last year, though. Never got to play after that.” There’s an inflection at the end of his sentence that makes you think he’s about to say more but he doesn’t. 

Your face softens when you see him stare down at the curb with a slightly troubled expression. In a moment of tenacity, you place your hand on his thigh and his eyes widen when he sees the movement before he’s looking over at you.

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. Both of you are shocked at the intimate gesture and you’re quick to withdraw your hand. 

Your faces are close, his side still pressed against yours, and neither of you break eye contact. You take a moment to study the handsome features of his face and your heart aches a little. The cold air has you licking your lips and Gojo’s eyes dart to them, gaze lingering, and you blink slowly when he leans forward slightly. Blue eyes find yours again and he stills himself, searching your face for something, and when he doesn’t see it he continues to lean forward and you lean towards him too. And then his lips press against yours, so chaste and so light that it’s possible you could have imagined it, but just when you feel his warm hand cup your face and he’s about to deepen the kiss, a loud honking noise startles the two of you and you both jump, pulling away from one another. You see Gojo’s face illuminated with bright golden lighting as he winces and holds up one of his hands in front of his face to shield himself from being blinded by it. 

You turn your head to the left towards the source of the light and see a tow truck approaching. “Hey! Is this the flat and windshield crack?” you hear the driver shout out from where his head was stuck out the window.

You’re speechless, cheeks feeling flushed from the realization that Gojo had just kissed you, and you turn to look at him. He silently stands up with a weary exhale and a calm expression on his face and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it is.” He makes his way over to the tow truck and you hear him make conversation with the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. You’re still sitting stunned on the curb, bringing your fingers up to gently touch your lips that were still searing from earlier. Gojo’s suddenly standing in front of you and you’re staring at his legs before you tip your head back up to look at him.

“Do you have any valuables in your car?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of your car.

“Ah…my phone and my tote bag,” you say. He crouches down in front of you, earnest eyes level with yours, and his hand reaches into the pocket of his jacket where you had stashed your keys. He removes only your car key from the ring, handing the set of other keys back to you, and then he’s unlocking your car to get your stuff out of it.

You remain on the curb, watching as Gojo handles the entire interaction with the tow truck helpers. When they’ve successfully anchored your car to the tow truck and one of the men comes around to shake Gojo’s hand, you see him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man some cash. You stand up in a bit of a panic and head over. 

The tow truck is already pulling away with your car from the curb when you make it in front of Gojo. He hands you a business card with the towing company information on it and then looks down at you with a mild demeanor, letting out a long exhale. “Ready to go home? You’ve had a long night.”

Exhaustion suddenly consumes your entire being and you hesitantly nod. 

The interior of Gojo’s car is nice. It’s clean, smells like him and pine, with nice leather seats that have warmers. You’re still wearing his jacket, clenching it tightly around you, as he inputs your apartment address into his GPS and starts to drive you home.

Neither of you say a word to one another during the ride. You watch his hand tighten its grip at the top of the steering wheel occasionally as he drives. He turns his car into the entrance of your apartment complex and parks in the loading zone. You watch as he makes his way out of the car to the passenger side door, opening it for you. You step outside and thank him.

“It’s okay, I’ll head inside from here,” you say, already feeling like you’ve caused him enough trouble. You abruptly remember that Mina isn’t home and the realization that you’ll be all alone tonight creates a hollow feeling in your chest.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” he says, walking past you to make his way to the elevator and pressing the up button. It dings before immediately opening and he walks inside like he’s the one that lives here. He places a hand out to hold the door sensors when he sees that you don’t follow him inside. You jump out of the mild trance you were in and quickly rush in before he withdraws his hand and the elevator door shuts. 

“Which floor?” He asks, finger hovering over the control pad. You tell him three. 

Once you reach the third floor, you step out into the hallway and he follows suit. Your apartment was just seven units down towards the right and the two of you eventually made it to the door. You turn around to look up at him. His expression becomes slightly distressed and when you don’t say anything to him, he shoves his hands further into his pockets and sways back and forth slightly. 

“Alright, mission accomplished, I got you home,” he says with a forced jovial tone, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice he does that when he seems nervous about something.

Your mind recalls the kiss from earlier, the feeling of Gojo’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed up against you in the cold, the tender way his hand held your face still so he could have more of you, only for it to be cut short. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your cheeks flush with warmth. He’s looking down at you intently and you’re looking up at him pensively. 

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Not yet.

Your hands reach into your tote bag to pull out the keys to your apartment. “Yes, home.” He watches you jingle the metal in your hands. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says and he takes a step back. Turning around, you push your key into the keyhole with shaking hands, turning it, and open the door to your apartment, letting yourself inside. You look at him from the entryway with the door still ajar. 

“Good night, take it easy,” he says to you.

“Thanks, you too.” And then he’s out of your sight as you shut the door.

You lean back against the front door, letting out a sigh and biting down on your lip, the thumping of your heart pertinent throughout your entire body. There was a lingering truth to all of the emotions that you’ve been having recently. It followed you in the early hours of the morning, it followed you as you tried to fall asleep at night, it was present in the silence, lurking in the dark, and it was there with you tonight for every second that he was by your side.

You had feelings for Gojo Satoru. 

a/n. thanks sooo much for reading and i hope you enjoyed aaa idk this week felt off for my writing for some reason but i heavily edited it so i hope it came out okay in the end.

➸ take me to chapter six!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru

[suiana]

your boyfriend has been acting weird lately (various yandere characters x gn reader) (ANGSTOBER DAY 2)

"babe are you-"

"can you quit talking? seriously, you're so damn annoying."

"...i only wanted to ask whether you were hungry..."

you stare at your boyfriend, lips pursed as he continues to type away on his phone. he's been like this for three weeks now. getting mad at you for no reason, cursing at you... did you do something wrong?

all you ever wanted was to be a good significant other and he's acting like he's on his period or something! jesus, can't he be a little bit more mature too?! picking fights with you for no reason, making a big fuss over nothing... and not even telling you why?!

...

you know what?

you had it with him.

"hey, what's your problem huh?! why are you so edgy nowadays huh? did i do something wrong?!"

your once loving boyfriend stares at you, eyes and mouth wide at your sudden outburst. he takes a moment to compose himself, eyebrows furrowing the second he thinks things through.

"god you're so damn stupid. I've been repeatedly telling you, haven't i? i hate you. what can't you understand?! this is why I'm always getting mad, damnit!"

you scoff at him, arms folded in front of your chest as you try to keep your cool... only for your anger to get the better of you, resulting in a screaming festival between you and your boyfriend.

"hate me? you can't expect me to believe that. not when you were literally obsessed with me up till three weeks ago?!"

"i-"

"you used to threaten people just for looking at me! you even tried to kill someone because they asked for my number! and now you want me to believe that you hate me? stop with your bullshit."

".. actually-"

"oh. are you seeing someone else? is that what this is? you're trying to make me break up with you, is that it?"

"n-... you know what? yeah, yeah it is. i want to break up with you. I've found someone else that i love more than you."

your boyfriend states, eyes dead as he stares straight at you. he breathes calmly, as if he weren't affected by this at all. meanwhile, your heart felt as though it had shattered into many tiny pieces. tears fell from your eyes, unable to be held back any longer as you broke down, falling to your knees as the male just stares at you stoicly.

"let's never see each other again."

he mumbles, turning on his heel, swiftly leaving you alone to wallow in your sadness in the once lively apartment. shit... you hadn't expected things to end like this.

"he's a fucking jerk..."

you think through your tears, vision blurry as you clutch your chest. you really loved him and he just?? left?? how could he be so heartless?

if he didn't love you he could've just said something about it. he didn't have to be so mean and hurt your feelings before finally bringing up another person! god damnit, why did you have to fall for such a person?!

you cried, wailing as you cursed your now ex-boyfriend.

"fuck! i hate you! i hate you so much! i hope i never see you again! just disappear from my life! you just left me to die here! stupid ex-boyfriend! i hate giving you my love!"

what you didn't know however, was that your 'heartless' boyfriend had stood outside your door, frowning at your every word, regretting everything he had done up until that moment. because he had loved you too. truly.

he loved you so damn much that he wanted to tear out his hair every single time he was mean to you. he wanted to tell you that he didn't mean any single one of those hurtful words. he wanted to cry and beg for your forgiveness every single time he did anything hurtful to you.

but it was for your own good. it was to keep you safe. and if he needed to hurt you to keep you safe, he'd do it. because he loved you too much to see someone else hurt you.

and being with him meant that there was always a risk of you getting hurt. so how could he allow that to happen when it could be prevented? how could he let his selfish feelings get in the way when you were such a precious little thing? sure, he loves you and he'll do anything in his power to ensure your safety but what if he can't protect you one day?

what if one day you just... get used against him? he's a dangerous man and has a lot of enemies. surely they'll find out that you're his weakness. of course he has gotten rid of anyone who might harm you now but who's to say that there won't be more in the future?

which is why he has to severe all ties with you now. he can't risk it. because he may be strong, but he may not be strong enough for whoever may come in the future. that's why he's been doing what he's been doing-making you hate him so that it hurts less when he decides that it's time to leave. he assumes that it's working wonderfully, after all you've never once noticed his puffy eyes in the morning.

"at least... they'll be safe now."

and disappear he will, for he has too many regrets welling up in the depths of his soul from what he did to you. he'll make sure to never come across you again, instead lurking in your shadow, observing you from afar.

a star like you need not be dirtied by his presence anymore.

dazai osamu, akutagawa ryunosuke, megumi fushiguro, blade, scaramouche/wanderer, your faves<3

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea. 

You were home.

What the—? How? 

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present. Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough crappy carpet under your feet. You stood up shakily. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, scared the living hell out of you.

You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, he only stared, probably to drunk to realize it was his own daughter.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, disgusted by your sight, “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

You couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood there. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied through your teeth.

His eyes flared with rage, and he raised the bottle, ready to hit you. You tensed up, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, “Don’t hurt her.”

JJ’s plea just hung there, like this thin, fragile thread barely holding things together. For a second, your dad froze, his hand twitching, eyes darting between you and your brother.

And then, with this pissed-off roar, he chucked the bottle at the wall. It exploded into a million pieces, glass flying everywhere. The sound echoed through the house, loud and final, like it was the last brutal note in this nightmare that felt way too real.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat.

Panic hit hard as his grip tightened around your throat, stealing your breath. You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but he was way too strong, too determined.

Dark spots started creeping into your vision. You gasped, fighting for air, but he only squeezed harder. The room blurred and started spinning, and just when you thought you were about to pass out, his face began to change, shifting right in front of you. You blinked, trying to clear your head, and when you opened your eyes again, it wasn’t your dad choking you anymore.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The fear was paralyzing, like ice-cold dread flooding through your veins.Your heart hammered against your chest, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t shout for help. His grip was solid, unbreakable, like he had no intention of letting go.

You struggled with everything you had, but it was like fighting through quicksand. Every move felt slow, heavy, like you were trapped in molasses.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

A wave of nausea hit you, your stomach twisting with disgust — at him, at yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the image of his hands around your throat fresh and terrifying, making it hard to process how he could sleep so soundly. You slipped out of bed as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake him, and hurriedly grabbed your clothes, dressing in silence.

Standing in the cramped bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would wash away the nightmare. The coolness gave you a quick moment of clarity, but the dread still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You stared at yourself in the mirror — pale, tired, and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You needed to leave, clear your head, figure out what the hell to do next. Quietly, you slipped out of the bathroom, grabbed your keys from the nightstand, and took one last glance at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely clueless about the fear swirling inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and dead silent, except for the low hum of the vending machine down the hall. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit your skin like a slap of reality. It was like stepping out of one world and into another — the difference so harsh, it almost felt unreal.

You walked a few more steps, but suddenly everything started spinning. Your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded, your legs giving out as you slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong.

You couldn't fall apart now.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind. You were a dirty traitor.

The cold didn't couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this? 

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain. 

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't ignore the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you got closer to the entrance, you spotted him at the front desk. He looked a mess — worried, disheveled, like he’d just woken up and thrown on some shorts in a rush. His face was tight with tension as he talked to the front desk guy, hands moving wildly, gesturing around like he was freaking out. 

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The nightmare was still fresh.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic.

"Sir, I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself, "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. You should feel repulsed.

His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. And then, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think much of it. It was you or him.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what came next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your stupid actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing.

"You okay?"

You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you. 

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, he watched you carefully, as if he was afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any given moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. He was smart enough to read your bullshit, but he only took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Is this about last night?”

Your body froze instantly. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?���

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other. You couldn't be.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off. The vulnerability in his voice pierced your skin, a consequence of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you. You probably deserved it.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, even though you knew he didn't mean it.

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted quietly as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, "Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt so much frustration rising within you, "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, "I wanted you."

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. Why did it feel like this was going to crush you?

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent, for the second time that morning. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation became clear as day. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have? 

The quiet without him was almost eerie. You weren't used to being alone anymore. You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? It had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down?

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence driving you up the walls. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him.

You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously, “What are you doing?”

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot, “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

You sighed, “Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you.

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from earlier.

“You need to sleep this off."

He nodded but didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep. 

That night? It never happened. It felt like everything was happening all over again.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the hauntings of your past, blending into a tiring cycle of fear. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving. He never asked for you help.

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant.

Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake. Maybe you should've kept quiet, but his druken monologue was still very much killing you inside.

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, "How can you be so sure?" he murmured.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. 

“I’m still here,” you said softly, “I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. That didn't matter anymore to him.

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat.

The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. 

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. It was over. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions. 

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The beauty of the scene did little to ease the anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face still void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat.

“Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

Not ever, that's what he meant.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

You didn't like it one bit.

“Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to. 

“Rafe,” the older man announced, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. This wasn't the plan. Right? The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, Rafe moving to place himself between you and the older man, “Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves.

"Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You knew this had to be a trap.

"Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. 

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you couldn't think about what might happen to both of you if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling at that point.

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. Oh hell no. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve.

“Run.”

Before you could protest, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly.

Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight wasn't over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier.

He grabbed your arm like you were some kind of animal, “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Without thinking, you ran to him, your heart pounding with relief. He was okay. You were okay.

His arms wrapped around your lower back tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching your face to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you.

It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. 

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain. No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire. 

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice, you didn't want to scare him.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation.

You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was too much. The police and the traffickers were in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood. There was nowhere to run.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you.

"Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking. 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips, "Go."

Before you could tell him off, you felt hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient and hurried.

As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was nothing but a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but you wouldn't rest until you saw him again. Alive.

When the boat finally docked, paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down and a police officer approached you.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything. 

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down again. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic, “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words.

Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him. Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt so helpless.

“I can't just leave him."

"We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, without another option, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the station and into a waiting car, you could only imagine him lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

[ddejavvu]

hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰

i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?

like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.

if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)

love ya!! hope ur having a good day

Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.

"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."

"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."

Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.

"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."

"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"

Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.

"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."

Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"

"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.

"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"

"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."

You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.

"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.

"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."

You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.

"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.

"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."

"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"

"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."

"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."

[yourlocaljonghoe]

Familiar Stranger. || Kim Hongjoong.

Summary: you and hongjoong have known each other for over 20 years now. growing up side by side, graduating, marrying and having your own family was tough, but kim hongjoong had always been a constant in your life. now, in your late 30s, you suddenly find yourself divorced, and hongjoong’s wife just left him as well. your children are devastated, and for the sake of keeping them occupied, you try to urge them to spend much time with each other on a holiday trip. but what happens if things change? what happens if suddenly, you develop feelings for a man you considered nothing but a friend your whole life?

Pairing: kim hongjoong x reader

Genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst if you squint, smut (mdni)

Wordcount: 24.2k

Warnings: both reader and hj are in their late 30s, minseo & yena are around 14 and hanbin around 9, chubby!reader (though it isnt really mentioned until the smut part) mentions of emotional partner abuse and cheating, child neglect (kinda?) body insecurities, body worship, fingering, sex toys, use of pet names, oral (m. & f. receiving) if I missed smth pls lmk!

A/N: i am not happy with this fic (i even cried a little tbh i spent so much time on it and unfortunately just really really dislike it now) and towards the end, it gets pretty rushed and i want to apologize for that, i just got really frustrated. its also not proof read which will probably be very visible rip. now onto the important part tho: hello @owlbeforesunset, i was your secret santa for @cromernet! i really hope you like this even if its super messy sksksksk and im wishing you the best christmas ever!! may you and your loved ones be happy and healthy forever <33 as always divider credits to @firefly-graphics! Edit: since im dumb i forgot to add the playlist i made specifically for this fic. its the first time i made smth like this so i hope you all enjoy <33

Taglist: @ghstzzn, @kyukyustar, @hwapetals, @foxinnie8, @preciouswoozi, @aussiekpopginger, @kitten4sannie, @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf

Available here on AO3.

April, 2003.

Heavy rain pelted against the windows. It was loud and distracting, but you tried your best to focus on the task at hand: getting dressed in your sexiest outfit ever.

God, how excited you were. Your first ever party!

You grabbed the black tank top from the pile on your bed, biting your lip as you held it up. It was cropped, barely grazing your waist, and you'd never actually worn it out. But tonight was different. You wanted to stand out, feel a little bolder today. You slipped it over your head, adjusting the straps until it sat just right, revealing just enough to feel sexy but still comfortable.

Next, you reached for your favorite skirt - a dark denim piece that you usually reserved for special occasions. It hit mid-thigh, shorter than anything you usually wore. You turned left and right in front of the mirror, checking the whole look with a grin, feeling that sweet buzz of excitement stir within you.

Today, you were feeling rebellious, and you thanked the heavens that your parents weren't home to see that side of you.

After a quick swipe of lip gloss and a final tousle of your hair, you stepped back to take in the full outfit. This was new, a little edgy, but it was exactly how you wanted to show up tonight.

And then, you heard a car honk outside.

Three times, to be exact. 

It told you that Hongjoong had arrived to pick you up.

You grabbed your coat and dashed outside, leaping from the front porch to avoid the small puddles pooling on the driveway. The cold rain splattered down, but it did nothing to cool down the rush of excitement as you ran towards Hongjoong's car.

As soon as you reached it, he leaned over to unlock the door, his eyes widening as he noticed you through the rain. You quickly pulled the door open and slid into the passenger seat, the warm interior pulling a happy sigh from your lips. Without thinking, you then stood up halfway in the seat, turning to give him a full view of your outfit. You did a quick spin, showing off the crop top and skirt, a big, proud smile practically glued to your face.

“Well?” You laughed, tilting your head at him.

He blinked, visibly taken aback, and then grinned in that lopsided, mischievous way of his. “Damn, look at you!” he said, dragging his gaze over you with obvious approval in his eyes. “That’s exactly the look. You look perfect! He will definitely notice you now!”

“And she will definitely notice you too!”

She was the girl who had captured his attention since the first day of school. And as much as you wanted to tease him about that hopeless crush of his, you found yourself rooting for him. He really liked her, and it was kind of cute to see your best friend so head over heels in love. “You’re going to knock her off her feet, Hongjoong. Look at you!”

Kim Hongjoong looked as stunning and unique as always. Tonight, he'd gone for an avant-garde vibe, somehow mixing and layering pieces that should've clashed but just… worked. He wore a dark, oversized blazer with bold white stitching tracing down its seams, a design you knew he’d likely stitched himself. Underneath, he wore a fitted, high-neck black shirt that hugged his frame, and chains draped across his chest in varying lengths. The pants he wore were his own design as well - fitted and flared at the bottom, with artful rips along the thighs revealing hints of his skinny, toned legs beneath. He’d accessorized with rings on nearly every finger, a thick cuff around his wrist, and one of his trademark berets, tilted slightly to the side.

And then, his favorite touch: eyeliner, just enough to make his eyes dark and intense, while still looking like the nice and approachable boy you knew him as.

All in all: your best friend looked as stunning as always.

You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your stomach as you caught his gaze lingering on you as well. Outside, the rain was steady, streaking the windows as the car drove through the streets.

“So, what’s your plan tonight?” he asked. “Besides making him notice you, of course.”

“Maybe dance. Maybe get him in my bed,” you said with a smirk, earning an exaggerated grimace from Hongjoong.

“Ugh. Spare me the details.”

You both laughed, and you elbowed him playfully as he drove through the streets.

The drive stretched on, the rain creating a soothing pitter-patter against the windows. The streetlights you passed were illuminating Hongjoong’s sharp features perfectly as you looked at him. You couldn’t help but watch him for a moment, appreciating the pretty man your best friend had become over the years.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “what about you? Big plans tonight?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You know, if she shows up.”

“Oh, she’ll be there,” you teased, poking his arm. “She's at every party. Plus you’ve been talking about her all week. She’d be insane not to notice you tonight.”

He glanced at you briefly, his smile turning a bit shy. “I hope so. But hey, even if she doesn’t… tonight’s about having fun. About us, okay? Let's just try and have a good time anyways.”

“Agreed,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “Let’s make this the best night ever.”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Deal.”

He pulled up to the venue after another few minutes. As you both stepped out into the rain, the cold droplets hit your heated skin as you raced to the entrance, and you laughed as you arrived first. 

Once you opened the heavy door together, the atmosphere inside immediately enveloped fully. The sound of music echoed through the air, and the whole crowd pulsed with energy. You spotted familiar faces, friends and acquaintances already dancing and chatting, and your heart raced with excitement. This was it.

“Okay,” Hongjoong said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. “Let’s try not to get separated. Want a drink?”

“Sure,” you replied. You could barely hear your own voice over the thumping bass of the music. You tugged at his sleeve to pull him toward the makeshift bar set up in the corner of the room. A string of colorful lights hung over your heads, casting shifting hues of red and blue across the room and its people. The whole place smelled of sweat, too much perfume, and a faint trace of spilled beer and vomit.

Hongjoong weaved through the crowd effortlessly, his small frame slipping between clusters of people like a ghost. You followed closely, clutching your purse harder to avoid hitting any strangers.

When you finally reached the bar, Hongjoong leaned in close to your ear again. “What’s your poison of choice tonight? Beer? Something stronger?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your chin theatrically. “Surprise me,” you said, flashing him a grin.

His brows arched playfully, and he turned to flag down the guy working the bar - a classmate you vaguely recognized but didn’t know well. After a brief exchange, Hongjoong handed you a plastic cup filled with something neon pink and fizzy.

“Taste test,” he prompted, watching your reaction closely as you took a cautious sip.

The drink was sweet, with just enough of a bite to remind you it was still alcoholic. You licked your lips, nodding in approval. “Not bad. What is it?”

He smirked. “No idea. Just told him to make it fun.”

You laughed, raising the cup in a mock toast. “To fun, then.”

“To fun,” he echoed, clinking his own drink against yours before taking a big sip.

The two of you leaned back against the bar, scanning the room and taking it all in. It was packed, the dance floor a mass of sweaty bodies against bodies illuminated by the cheap neon light. You spotted a few more familiar faces but didn’t immediately see the person you were hoping to impress tonight.

“See him yet?” Hongjoong asked, his gaze flicking toward you.

You shook your head, feeling slightly disappointed. “Not yet. You?”

He scanned the room again, his eyes lingering near a group of girls huddled together by the DJ booth. When he looked back at you, his grin was wide and genuine. “She’s here.”

Your brows shot up. “Where?”

He gestured subtly with his chin, and you followed his gaze. Sure enough, there she was - wearing a sleek black dress that clung to her in all the right ways, her head thrown back in laughter as she chatted with her friends.

“She looks amazing,” you said honestly, nudging him. “Go talk to her.”

Hongjoong hesitated, biting his lip. “Not yet. Need a little more liquid courage first.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink. “Fine, but don’t chicken out, okay? Tonight’s your night.”

“And yours,” he reminded you, bumping your shoulder lightly.

“Damn right,” you said, your confidence starting to show by the alcohol starting to settle warmly in your veins.

The music shifted then. Instead of the slow song that played when you two got here, it now switched to a faster pop-song that made the room errupt in cheers. Hongjoong turned to you, his eyes sparkling.

“Dance floor?” he asked.

“Hell yes,” you replied without hesitation, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the mass of people.

The moment you stepped onto the dance floor, the music seemed to consume you entirely. You let yourself sway to the beat, your earlier nerves melting away completely. Hongjoong danced beside you, his movements fluid as always. At least one of you could dance. Unfortunately, it definitely wasn't you.

At some point, you caught sight of him watching you. He stood near the edge of the crowd, a solo cup in one hand, his eyes fixed squarely on you.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Joong,” you hissed, tugging on his sleeve. “He’s looking at me!”

Hongjoong followed your gaze, a grin splitting across his face. “Told you he wouldn’t be able to resist. Go say hi!”

“I can’t just walk up to him,” you said, your voice a little panicked.

“Yes, you can. Trust me, you look amazing. He’s already hooked.”

You hesitated, your feet rooted in place despite the music urging you to move.

Hongjoong gave you a gentle shove in his direction. “Go! I’ll be here if you need a rescue mission.”

Shooting your best friend one last look, you smoothed down your skirt, drew in a steadying breath, and walked toward him, heart pounding with each step. His dark eyes locked onto yours almost immediately, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he tipped his cup slightly in acknowledgment.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline rushing through you.

“Hey yourself,” he replied smoothly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His name was Jang Hyunwoo, a senior just a year above you and Hongjoong. Known for his devastating good looks, he was every girl's dream and you were not immune to him. At all. In fact, the first time you saw him, it felt like the world narrowed to just… him. 

You still remembered it. 

He was leaning against the chain-link fence outside school, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers, dark eyes unreadable beneath heavy lashes. He’d glanced up, meeting your gaze with a look so piercing it made your heart skip a beat or two.

“Got a light?” he’d asked, voice low and lazy.

You didn’t even smoke, but you found yourself fumbling for a lighter borrowed from a friend. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken.

From that moment, you were hooked. He was magnetic in a way that felt dangerous - intense and so, so unreachable. But when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing that mattered… it was impossible not to fall. 

From that day on, Jung Hyunwoo became your addiction. 

And right now, his tall frame leaned against the wall with an effortless confidence, a single silver chain glinting against the black of his fitted shirt. He radiated that dangerous allure you just couldn’t seem to resist.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Thought I’d check it out.”

His eyes traced over you slowly, appreciatively. “You definitely made the right call.”

Your cheeks heated, but before you could respond, you noticed someone approaching Hongjoong out of the corner of your eye. She practically slithered up to him, wrapping an arm possessively around his waist.

Kang Minji.

She was stunning, really, with long, glossy hair and an effortless sense of style that made her look straight out of a magazine. But there was something else you noticed about here. Something in the sharpness of her gaze, the way her perfectly manicured nails dug into Hongjoong’s side just a little too firmly, sent a chill down your spine. And you did not even understand why.

“Joongie,” she cooed, tilting her head in mock surprise. “Didn’t think you’d make it tonight.”

Hongjoong’s smile faltered for the briefest moment before he recovered, offering her a charming, yet shy grin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You watched as Minji’s eyes flicked to you, quickly looking you up and down, before returning to Hongjoong as though you weren’t even there. Something about the possessiveness in her expression made you immediately feel uneasy.

You thought about saying something to Hongjoong, about warning him - there was something weird about her, about the way her smile never quite reached her eyes when she looked at him. But just as quickly as the thought surfaced, you shoved it down. After all, your own situation wasn’t exactly better, was it?

Hyunwoo’s fingers pressed firmly into your waist, his touch feeling equal parts thrilling and dangerous. His gaze held yours with that familiar intensity, sharp and consuming, leaving no room for second-guessing.

Who were you to judge Hongjoong when you were just as caught up in someone toxic you couldn’t seem to quit?

So, you said nothing. You let the thought dissolve, swallowed by the pounding bass and the heat of Hyunwoo’s hand still holding you close.

“So, you two know each other?” Hyunwoo’s voice drew your attention back to him.

“Yeah, Joong’s my best friend,” you explained, smiling despite the tension forming between you four. “We came together.”

Hyunwoo’s smirk widened, and his grip around you tightened. “Interesting.”

Before you could decipher his meaning, Minji’s laugh rang out, sharp and so… wrong. “Best friend, huh? That’s cute.”

Her words felt like a subtle warning, though you couldn’t quite place why. Hongjoong’s expression shifted, discomfort flashing in his dark eyes, but he said nothing.

“Dance with me,” Hyunwoo suggested, pulling your focus back. His gaze was intense, daring you to say no.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Okay.”

The music was so loud as Hyunwoo pulled you onto the dance floor. His grip on your waist was firm, guiding you effortlessly through all the sweaty bodies. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his intense gaze never leaving yours as the world blurred into a haze of flashing lights and unrecognizable sounds.

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, breath hitching as his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your waist. His touch burned through the thin fabric of your shirt, making your skin tingle with anticipation. He smelled like spice and something else equally addictive - the perfect blend of danger and temptation.

Before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours, hard and demanding. His hand tangled in your hair while the other stayed on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You gasped into the kiss, overwhelmed but unable to stop yourself from further melting into him.

The intensity of it all left you breathless. He dominated you so effortlessly, pressing hard into every movement, every touch. You barely registered the crowd around you anymore, the dance floor fading into the background as you clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His lips were warm and insistent, tasting faintly of the drink he’d been having earlier.

For a quick second, a flicker of anxiety flooded your chest, but before you could pull away, your gaze drifted past Hyunwoo’s shoulder - and froze.

There, against the far wall, you saw Hongjoong. His back was pressed against the worn brick, his hands tangled possessively in Minji’s hair as she kissed him hard and without any mercy. Her body was pressed against his, leaving no room for air between them. His eyes were closed, completely lost in the heat of the moment.

Something inside you twisted sharply, equal parts jealousy and defiance. If Hongjoong could do it, lose himself like that… why couldn’t you?

Your fingers tightened around Hyunwoo’s shirt as you surged forward in a sudden boost of confidence, matching his intensity with a newfound determination that even surprised yourself. If this was how the night was going to go, then you wouldn’t hold back. Not anymore.

Hyunwoo groaned against your lips, clearly pleased by your sudden boldness. His hands roamed freely now, sliding down your back to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard press of his body against yours, his need unmistakable and intoxicating.

Your nails raked down his chest, earning a hiss of approval from him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your knees tremble. His control was absolute, his touch possessive, as though staking a claim that he had no intention of releasing.

And for now, you let him. You surrendered to it all, the reckless, thrilling haze, pushing down every lingering thought of Hongjoong and Minji. Tonight, you’d let yourself go - consequences be damned.

“Wanna go upstairs?”

“H-huh?”

You didn’t even notice you had moved, too consumed by his mouth and hands everywhere, but as you opened your eyes again, he was standing at the bottom of a dimly lit staircase, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something you couldn’t quite name. “Come on,” he coaxed, voice low and hoarse. “It’s too loud out here.”

The way he said it sounded reasonable, almost thoughtful - because he was right, it was way, way too loud in here - but the way his hand lingered on your waist told a different story. His touch was too sure, too expectant as if a no from you wasn't even a question. 

Your gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of Hongjoong. He’d always been your anchor in situations like this - your safe space. But he was nowhere in sight. Your stomach twisted as you recalled the way Minji had pulled him into the shadows, her grip just as firm as Hyunwoo’s was now.

He’s fine, you told yourself. He wanted this. He chose this.

So why did you suddenly feel so… alone?

“I- maybe we should stay down here,” you suggested hesitantly, voice trembling despite your attempt to sound casual. “We could… get another drink?”

Hyunwoo’s expression darkened ever so slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing through his gaze before he smoothed it over with a practiced smile. “You nervous?” he asked, stepping closer until your back pressed against the wall. His voice was soft now, almost tender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, baby.”

The pet name sent an involuntary shiver down your spine - not from endearment, but from the way it felt like a trap snapping shut around you. And you, like the prey you were, stepped right into it.

His fingers brushed along your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Did you? You weren’t sure anymore.

His thumb traced slow circles against your cheek, deceptively gentle. “We’ve been dancing around this for months… You know you want this too.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming wildly beneath his touch. He was too close, his presence overwhelming, suffocating - but intoxicating in the worst way. Every instinct told you to push him away, to leave - but then you thought about Hongjoong, likely wrapped up in Minji somewhere upstairs, completely consumed by her.

Hyunwoo’s lips brushed against your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Just you and me,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous promise. “No one else matters tonight.”

And then, you finally gave in. He quickly grabbed you and searched for an empty room upstairs, and as the door clicked shut behind you, sealing you inside the dim, quiet room, you couldn’t shake the haunting certainty that neither you nor Hongjoong would leave this night the same - both now bound to people who would ruin you in ways you were only beginning to understand years later.

August, 2024.

It was late when your shift finally ended.

You walked into the house, the door giving squeaking like always as you stepped inside. Silence was all you were greeted with when you closed the front door behind you. You kicked off your shoes by the door and set your bag down on the counter, your gaze lingering on the empty kitchen. It had been a while since you truly noticed the quiet - or since you were involuntarily forced to.

It was late, and you were tired; it was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones after a long day of work, and the weight of your thoughts felt even heavier now that you were home.

You hadn’t expected to feel this way even after the divorce, but the ache was still there, lingering. For the longest time, you'd convinced yourself it was all manageable - that it would get better, that you could make it work.

But now, standing in the middle of the house that once held the warmth and laughter of a family, you couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

Your marriage to Hyunwoo had been tiring and oh so toxic, and it all actually started the day you two had met. It was easy to look back now and see the signs - the subtle ways he began to change over the years, the evergrowing distance between you two. He’d started out so passionate about you and your whole relationship. But after the children came, or maybe even before, things shifted. His kindness faded into passive aggression, and then to blatant cruelty in the smallest, quietest ways.

At first, you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. After all, there were still moments that felt like the old him - the laughter over dinner, the rare but sweet gestures. But those moments became fewer and fewer, and the weight of his silence began to feel heavier than anything else.

You had learned to shut down, to bite your tongue, to keep the peace - all for the sake of your children. You didn’t want them to see the cracks. You didn’t want them to know that the man you married, the man they adored, was also the one who’d made you feel small, insignificant, and alone in your own home.

You’d stayed for them - for Minseo and Hanbin - hoping, wishing, that somehow you could protect them from it all.

It had been easier to stay. Easier to pretend that things were fine. But somewhere along the way, you stopped lying to yourself. The emotional abuse had become too much to ignore.

You had loved him once. So deeply that the idea of leaving him seemed impossible, even when your soul and entire being felt suffocated by his cruelty. But one day, you woke up to the reality that you couldn’t keep living like that - not for yourself, not for your children.

The divorce had been your only choice, even if it felt like it would destroy everything you had built.

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning against the counter, remembering those last weeks of you and Hyunwoo together - how every conversation felt like a battle, how every attempt at talking about it was met with denial, with anger.

And now, here you were. No more pretending. No more covering up. You had taken that step, for yourself and for your children, even if they couldn’t understand it yet.

A sigh escaped you as you shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. You had a family to focus on, children who needed you.

But sometimes, even now, the silence of this house felt like a heavy reminder of everything you had lost - and everything you still had to rebuild very slowly and carefully.

“Where have you been?” 

You stood in the doorway, the exhaustion from the long shift still weighing you down as you noticed Minseo’s presence in the living room. Her face was half-lit by the soft glow of her phone screen. She didn’t even look up when you entered.

“Hey, sorry sweetie,” you said, trying to sound as normal as possible, trying to hide how tired you were. “A coworker got sick, and I had to take over her shift.”

Minseo didn’t respond immediately, her eyes glued to the phone, her thumb scrolling lazily across the screen. The silence between you stretched out uncomfortably.

You waited, half-expecting some kind of acknowledgment, but she remained absorbed in her own world. The way she looked at you - or rather, didn’t look at you - felt like a sharp reminder of how far apart the two of you were drifting.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do. Normally, she would’ve greeted you with at least a half-hearted "Hi" or some sort of remark, but today, there was nothing. Just the quiet thrum of the phone as she typed.

You forced a smile, trying to bridge the gap. “How was your day?”

Nothing. Minseo didn’t even acknowledge you. Her eyes stayed on her phone, lips pressed into a thin line. The absence of the usual warmth in her voice made the silence so much louder, and it hit you harder than anything else. She wasn’t just quiet tonight. She was actively shutting you out.

You cleared your throat softly, trying again. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“Mm-hmm,” Minseo murmured, not bothering to look up. Her response was clipped, as though she was only offering the bare minimum of interaction required. You could feel the coldness seeping into the space between you.

You stood there, your hands hanging awkwardly by your sides, unsure how to proceed. The room felt heavy, and the quiet seemed so much louder with her refusal to meet your gaze. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong, only that something was different now. Something had changed, and it hurt more than you were ready to admit.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” you said, the words barely escaping your throat.

You turned toward the kitchen, sighing and not expecting anything else out of your daughter tonight. But then: “Hanbin’s crying, by the way.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of your son’s name, and you quickly turned to face Minseo, who was still engrossed in her phone.

“Why? What happened?!” you asked, your voice a little more urgent now.

Minseo didn't look up, her fingers still scrolling across the screen. “He tried calling Dad again. And... I guess he’s not picking up.” Her words came out flat, emotionless, as if she was just telling you about the weather today. 

You felt a pang in your chest at the thought of Hanbin, still too small to fully grasp the situation. All he wanted was to reach out to his father, to talk to him just like he always did. It was something you had feared - the growing distance between Hyunwoo and the kids. It wasn’t just that he had stopped being the man you married, but now his absence had begun to seep into their lives too.

You didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, you let out a long sigh and walked toward the stairs, your legs feeling heavier and heavier with each step. 

You hadn’t even realized how scared you were of this happening. But now, standing in the hallway at the foot of Hanbin’s door, you couldn’t run from it any longer.

You knocked gently. “Hanbin?”

A faint, muffled sob reached your ears from inside. Your stomach twisted at the sound.

The door creaked open, and you found him curled up on his bed, his small body trembling with each sob. His phone was clenched tightly in his hands, the screen still lit up, but there were no new messages, no notifications. Just an unanswered call to his father.

Your heart broke all over again as you knelt beside him. “Hey, buddy,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his back gently. “What happened?”

Hanbin wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, his little eyes red and puffy from all the crying. “Dad... he didn’t answer,” he sniffled, his voice cracking. “He promised. He said he would talk to me every day... but he didn’t. I don’t know what I did wrong…”

You almost started crying too. How could you explain this to him? How could you make him understand that this was something that wasn’t his fault, but that there was also nothing you could do to change it?

You sat down next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace, feeling his small body shake with every sob. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hanbin. It’s not your fault.”

“I want to talk to him. Why doesn’t he want to talk to me, mommy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. The words hit you harder than anything else he could have said.

You gently rocked him back and forth, trying to find the right words, but you knew that nothing would take away your son's pain.

You wanted so badly to make everything better for him, to explain it in a way that would help him understand. But it was all too complicated, and you didn't know if a 9 year old like him could already understand.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back a little to look into his tear-streaked face. “Maybe you can tell me about your day, okay? I’d love to hear about it.”

He sniffled, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. His wide eyes met yours for a moment before dropping to the bed. “You’re not daddy,” he muttered. “I can't talk to you about everything I talk to him...”

Your heart broke a little more. He was right. You weren’t his father. You couldn’t fix this for him. But you weren’t going to let him think that you didn’t care, either.

“You're right,” you said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I’m not daddy. But I do care about you. I care about everything you’re feeling right now.”

Hanbin sniffled again, his face scrunching up as though he was trying to hold it all together. "But it’s not the same," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I just want to talk to him."

You didn’t know what to say. The silence that followed felt heavy, and you just continued to quietly hold him against you. The words hovered in the air between you, but you had no answers. You knew that Hanbin needed his father - he needed a male figure who understood him, someone who was supposed to be there for him.

But there was another thought that nagged at the back of your mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he could talk to someone else. Someone who could listen. Someone who understood, even if it wasn’t his father.

“Hanbin,” you said, your voice quiet but firm, “what if you talked to Uncle Hongjoong instead? You know he’s always there for you.”

The idea hung in the air for a moment, and Hanbin’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, a flicker of hope in his gaze. But then he shook his head slowly.

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled, turning his face away, staring at the wall as though it could somehow block out everything else. "He’s not... not dad."

It hit you harder than you expected - the realization that even Hongjoong, someone who had been a part of your family for so long, couldn’t replace the hole that Hyunwoo had left. Hanbin had known him since birth, had shared so many memories with him, yet in that moment, he wanted no one else but Hyunwoo. Not even Hongjoong whom he usually adored so much.

“I know, buddy,” you whispered, pulling him into your arms again, wishing you could somehow make it all go away. “I get it. But you don’t have to be alone with this. We’re all here for you, okay? You can always talk to me, even if I’m not daddy.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more. His small body trembled a little less, but the sadness still lingered of course. You wished there was a way to make it magically disappear, but unfortunately, you were just a human with no such power.

You held him there for a while, neither of you saying anything. You didn’t need to.

Finally, Hanbin pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes and looking up at you. “Can we try calling dad again tomorrow?”

You nodded, even though you knew that it was unlikely anything would change. “Of course, we can. We’ll try again.”

You gently wiped away the last of Hanbin’s tears and let out a soft sigh. 

“How about you go to bed now, hm?” you asked softly, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “Don't you have your math test tomorrow?”

Hanbin sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. But... what if I don't do good?”

You smiled faintly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “You're going to do great. You always do, Hanbin. You're so smart. I believe in you.”

His eyes glimmered with a small trace of hope at your words, and he gave you a weak nod, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze.

“Okay,” he muttered, still sounding unsure, but he allowed you to tuck him in nonetheless. 

“And hey,” you added, your voice soft but warm, “I'll make you your favorite breakfast tomorrow, okay? Pancakes, right?”

Hanbin’s eyes lightened up at the mention of pancakes, and despite the lingering sadness on his face, he offered you a small, tired smile. “Thanks, mommy.”

Your heart clenched a little, but you smiled back, brushing a hand through his messy hair one last time before standing up from the side of his bed.

“Goodnight, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hanbin whispered, closing his eyes as he settled further into his blankets.

By the time you made your way back downstairs, Minseo had already retreated back to her room. Her door was closed, and the only thing indicating she was still awake was the soft music coming from her phone. 

You wanted so badly to knock and wish her a goodnight, but you knew not to push your luck. For now, all you could do was respect her space.

And so, you stepped outside onto the front porch, the cool night air brushing against your face. The whole neighbourhood was silent, and only a few streetlights lit up the street. As your gaze swept over the yard, your eyes landed on the porch next door and onto the man sitting there. 

Kim Hongjoong. 

He looked different, though. His shoulders were slightly slumped, as if the weight of something heavy rested on them. His hair, always so carefully styled, had grown a little longer, falling messily across his forehead. He wore a black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans, his hands tucked into the pockets, his expression unreadable. Even in the dim light, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lines of stress that hadn’t been there before.

The sight of him like this hurt. You'd always admired Hongjoong for his energy, his fire, his passion about even the smallest things, but tonight, he looked... broken.

You hesitated for a moment before walking over to his porch. “Hey,” you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up at you, and the corner of his lips curled into a faint, almost sad smile. “Hey. Didn’t expect you to be out this late.”

You gave a small shrug. “Had a long shift. The kids are okay for now, so I thought I’d get some air.”

He nodded, glancing at the empty space beside him. “Wanna join me?”

You stepped up, taking a seat next to him, the familiar creak of the old wood beneath you a reminder of how many times you'd sat here before, talking, laughing, even crying. It used to be different. You used to talk about everything, and you could always count on him to make things feel a little lighter, a little more bearable.

But tonight, there was an awkward tension between you two, the kind that comes from years of shared history and sudden distance. The silence stretched for a while, neither of you willing to break it, both lost in your own thoughts.

Finally, Hongjoong spoke, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “How are things... at home?”

You glanced at him, unsure whether to give him a real answer. But then you realized that maybe, just for tonight, you should. For your own sake. “It’s been hard. Minseo’s shutting me out more than usual, and Hanbin... he’s not doing too good either. He tried calling Hyunwoo again. No answer, of course.”

Hongjoong sighed, his gaze turning to the distant streetlights. “I’m sorry, I know that’s got to be tough. For you and the kids.”

You nodded, looking down at your hands. “It’s so… silent. I thought it was just my own imagination... but I feel it in the house. Even with Minseo, there’s this distance. And Hanbin - he’s still holding onto the idea that things are okay between him and Hyunwoo. It’s breaking my heart because I have no idea how to tell him that his dad seemingly decided to cut all contact.”

“It feels like someone's trying to rip my heart out,” you continued, your voice a little shaky now. “He still believes that things will go back to normal. Every time he calls his dad and gets no answer, I see the hurt in his eyes. I don’t know how to fix that for him, Hongjoong. He’s just a little boy.”

Hongjoong shifted slightly, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knees. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to shield them from the things they shouldn’t have to know.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I don’t want them to feel like this. Minseo, she’s... she’s different now, too. Now that Hyunwoo left… I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

“Minseo’s at that age, too, you know. The teens are hard. But I can tell you, she’s just needs a little time. It’s hard for them to see the people they love… change into something they don’t recognize.”

You let out a soft sigh and nodded, but the ache for your kids didn’t let up. “She’s always been so strong, but it’s like she’s holding everything in. I wish I could break through... But she's shutting me out.”

Hongjoong shifted his weight, his body a little tense as though he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to begin. You glanced over at him, and for a moment, his eyes met yours, a soft understanding in them.

"I know what you're going through," he said quietly. "I know it all too well." He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. "Minji... she left me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned to him, eyes wide with shock. “W-what? Hongjoong, I-”

“She cheated,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, his hand gripping his knee even tighter. “She left me for another man... a rich one, apparently. Someone she’d been seeing behind my back.” His eyes were distant, haunted, as if the words themselves were still too raw, too surreal for him to fully grasp. “I didn’t see it coming. It... it hurt more than I thought it would.”

You couldn’t find the right words to say. You knew Minji had been distant in the months leading up to their split, but this? You never imagined it would be something like this. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him, though you knew words couldn’t heal the wound he was feeling.

“I’m so sorry, Hongjoong. I had no idea…”

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “I didn’t either. She had been so cold, so... unreachable. But I never thought it would end like this. And... that's not even the worst part. Yena, she… she was the one who caught them.”

“She what? Oh, God, Yena… how did she...”

Hongjoong let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “She walked in on them. Just like that. She saw her mom with him, saw them together in our own home. I don't know how much she really understands, but I... I can't even imagine what that must’ve done to her. She was so angry, but also so sad, and I couldn't even find the words to comfort her. I don't know how to fix this for her, either. I don't know how to make any of this better.”

You felt a sickening tightness in your stomachas the horror of Yena’s situation began to sink in. A child should never have to witness something like that, let alone process the reality that their own mother had been unfaithful.

“Yena must be so hurt... she must feel so betrayed. What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was hold her, and... and try to assure her that it wasn’t her fault. But the thing is, it felt like she was losing more than just her mother. It felt like she was losing both of us. She’s so confused, and I don’t know what to do for her. I can't just tell her it’s all going to be okay. It's not okay. It’s not even close.”

You could hear the anguish in Hongjoong's voice, and the weight of his pain was so tangible, it felt like it had pressed down onto your chest as well. He had always been the person others turned to for support - strong, dependable, someone who had always been a rock for those around him. But now, it seemed like the rock was breaking.

“I'm so sorry, Hongjoong,” you murmured again, unsure what else you could offer. You couldn't even imagine how hard this was for him. The hurt in his voice mirrored the same kind of sorrow you felt for your own family, and you both sat there for a while, not needing to say anything more. You both understood loss. You both understood the feeling of your whole world crashing down.

“What do we do now, Joongie? For the kids?”

Hongjoong looked down at his hands, fingers fidgeting in his lap as he took a deep breath, processing your question. For a long moment, there was only the quiet rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant honking of cars.

“What do we do now?” he muttered to himself, clearly frustrated. “I honestly don’t know, but… the kids... they need us, and we can’t keep letting them feel like they’re alone in this.”

“Well, summer break is coming up,” you said slowly, trying to organize your thoughts. “Maybe... maybe we could do something together? Like, take their minds off everything for a while. There’s still a lot we can do, right? Something to help them feel... normal.”

Hongjoong’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. We could take them on some trips. Give them a change of scenery, get away from all this... stuff. I mean, Yena’s been asking about going to the lake house again. Maybe we could take the kids somewhere like that.”

You smiled at the idea. Hanbin, too, had always loved that same lake house. It could be the escape they needed. Maybe even Minseo, despite her recent moodiness, would open up if she had the right distractions.

“Yeah, that could be good,” you agreed. “Maybe a trip to the lake. And we could do some other things too - like go to an amusement park or the zoo. Somewhere fun, where they can just be kids. It won’t fix everything, but it might give them a chance to breathe.”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes glowing with a bit more energy than before. “Exactly! A little fun, a little time away from home. Get them excited for the summer, make some good memories.”

“We’ll plan a whole summer week of distractions, then,” you said, giving him a small smile. “We’ll give them something to look forward to.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened slightly, and he gave a short laugh. “Sounds like a plan then!”

“But... there might be a small problem, Joongie. Minseo and Yena... aren't exactly friends.”

And just like that, his smile faltered for a second, his brows furrowing as he processed your words. He let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in thought.

“I… didn’t think about that,” he admitted quietly. “They're still not on speaking terms?”

You shook your head, a tired sigh escaping you. “No, they aren't. I don’t know if it’s their personalities or something else, but they don’t exactly mesh well. And with everything that’s been going on lately… I’m worried it might be worse.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, staring at the ground for a moment as he thought. “That’s... going to be tricky. I don’t want them to feel like they have to spend time together if they’re not comfortable, but at the same time, it’s hard to separate them if we’re all supposed to be spending time together.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “I don’t want to force them into anything, but it’s going to be hard to plan activities that make everyone happy if we don’t at least try to get them to work things out.” You paused, tapping your fingers lightly on the armrest of the chair. “Maybe we could start small? Give them a chance to build something on their own terms.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Yeah... We could try easing them into it. Maybe not throw them into some big group thing right away. Let them have some time to get used to the idea of spending time together again, but without forcing it.” He looked at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. “It’s going to be awkward, though. I know Minseo’s been distant with Yena for a while now.”

“Yeah, Minseo’s been pulling away, and Yena - well, no offense - she's not exactly the type to try and fix things on her own. I don’t know if she even knows how to handle Minseo's recent temper,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But maybe... maybe this summer could be a chance to get them to at least try. They don’t have to be best friends overnight, but if we give them the space to reconnect, they might surprise us.”

Hongjoong exhaled deeply, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just a matter of giving them time. We don’t have to rush anything, and if they’re not ready, we can adjust. But if they’re going to be in the same place a lot this summer, we might have to come up with some ground rules to keep things... civil.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Ground rules, huh? Like no biting each other’s heads off every time they disagree?”

Hongjoong’s lips formed a small grin. “Something like that. We’ll avoid any forced bonding, but also make sure they understand our time together might help them, too. No matter how awkward it gets, they have to remember they’re in this together for now.”

You tilted your head, a teasing glint sparking in your eyes. “Think we should draw up a contract? ‘No screaming matches, no storming off, and definitely no threatening to run away after every argument.’”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Knowing Minseo and Yena, they’d probably negotiate harsher terms for us.”

You laughed, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “God, we're doomed.”

“Completely,” he agreed, grinning. “But at least we go down fighting.”

“Mom, when are we there?” Hanbin whined from the back seat, his small legs swinging restlessly as he kicked the seat in front of him.

“Soon, sweetheart,” you replied patiently, twisting in your seat to glance back at him. “We’ve only got about an hour left.”

Before you could settle back in, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Minseo, stop hogging the armrest!” Yena snapped, shoving Minseo’s elbow aside.

“Oh, please! You’ve been leaning on me this whole time,” Minseo shot back, eyes flashing.

You sighed, already feeling a headache forming. “Girls, enough. We’re going to be stuck in this car for at least another hour, please try to keep it together until then!” 

Neither of them seemed particularly thrilled at the idea but begrudgingly muttered, “Fine.”

Settling back into your seat, you exhaled once again. Your gaze drifted toward Hongjoong, who had his hands steady on the wheel, his expression focused but relaxed, chuckling slightly. The sunlight filtering through the windshield caught the sharp line of his jaw, highlighting features you hadn’t allowed yourself to notice in a long time.

Huh... you thought absently, he really hasn’t changed much... except somehow he looks even better now.

Time had been remarkably kind to Hongjoong - if anything, age had sharpened his features in a way that made him look even more striking. The soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes only added depth to his good looks, and the streaks of silver in his dark hair gave him an air of effortless charm.

You caught yourself staring and quickly looked away, clearing your throat. Focus, you reminded yourself. We’re just co-parenting this trip… it's just Hongjoong, for fuck’s sake! You've known him for over 20 years now!

Shaking off the thought as quickly as it came, you turned back toward the kids. “Alright, how about we play a game? Something to keep us all from losing our minds before we get there.”

Hanbin perked up immediately, his eyes lighting up. “I wanna play I Spy!” he announced eagerly.

Minseo groaned dramatically. “That game’s so boring...”

Yena crossed her arms. “It’s better than sitting here in awkward silence.”

Before your daughter could snap back, Hongjoong’s voice chimed in, and he looked back at the children for a quick second. “How about this - whoever wins gets to pick the first activity when we get there. Sounds good?”

The girls exchanged wary glances but, to your relief, nodded reluctantly.

“Alright, Hanbin, you can go first,” you encouraged, hoping the game might ease the tension.

Hanbin beamed. “Okay! I spy with my little eye... something blue!”

Everyone glanced around the car, scanning the scenery flashing past. Minseo guessed, “The sky?”

“Nope!” Hanbin grinned mischievously.

“The sign we just passed?” Yena continued hesitantly.

“Nope!” Hanbin’s giggles grew louder.

You frowned playfully. “Is it... your shirt?”

Hanbin’s laughter erupted. “Yes! Took you long enough!”

The game continued, and after a while, the kids grew quieter. Hanbin eventually nodded off, his small head resting against Minseo’s shoulder, who tolerated it with only a mild eye-roll before gently adjusting so he’d be more comfortable. Yena was absorbed in her phone, earbuds in, lost in her own world.

Hongjoong’s fingers tapped the steering wheel rhythmically. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, a fond smile tugging at your lips. Time really had shifted so much between you, yet sitting here felt oddly... right. Familiar, in a way you hadn’t realized you missed.

“We’re almost there,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence, his voice low but warm. “You okay?”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah... it’s nice. Feels like old times, kinda.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah... it does.”

The car eventually pulled onto a winding gravel road bordered by towering trees on its side. The air outside was warm, and you could hear cicadas humming faintly in the distance. At the end of the path stood the cozy, weathered cabin - its wooden frame sturdy and welcoming, framed by flower-filled window boxes and a wide wraparound porch.

“We’re here!” Hongjoong announced as he stalled the engine.

Hanbin stirred awake instantly, blinking sleepily before gasping in delight. “We’re here? We’re here!”

Yena and Minseo both perked up, stretching as they climbed out of the car. You followed, inhaling deeply, savoring the fresh, earthy scent of pine and warm grass.

Hongjoong stepped around the car to join you, his expression light and content. “Still looks the same, huh?”

“Yeah...” You nodded, memories of summers spent here flashing through your mind. “Feels like home.”

Before either of you could say more, Hanbin sprinted toward the cabin, shouting excitedly, “I get to pick the first activity!” Yena and Minseo exchanged knowing looks before chasing after him, laughter spilling through the air.

You and Hongjoong shared a quiet, understanding smile.

“Ready for this?” he asked playfully, his eyes crinkling in that familiar, heart-stirring way.

You laughed softly, bumping his shoulder. “Let’s see if we can survive the kids.” 

After a whirlwind of unpacking - bags hauled inside, beds claimed, and a brief argument between the girls over god knows what - the cabin finally settled into a somewhat peaceful rhythm. The kids’ things were scattered in every direction, but at least no one was actively yelling anymore.

Well, almost no one.

“I’m not sharing a room with her!” Yena declared, arms crossed as she stood in the small hallway, glaring daggers at Minseo.

“Good, I don’t want to share with you either,” Minseo shot back, equally stubborn.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a familiar headache creeping in again. Before you could step in, Hongjoong spoke up, taking care of the situation for you.

“Fine. Minseo, you take the small room upstairs. Yena, you get the pullout couch in the living room. Problem solved.”

Both girls opened their mouths to argue, but something in Hongjoong’s gaze made them reconsider. Grumbling, they grabbed their bags and stomped off in opposite directions.

You sighed, shooting Hongjoong a grateful look. “Crisis averted… for now.”

He smirked. “Not bad for our first hour here.”

Then reality hit you. “Wait... if Minseo’s in the small room and Yena’s in the living room... where are we sleeping?”

His brow furrowed for a moment before realization dawned. He let out a resigned chuckle. “There’s only one bed left... the master.”

Your stomach flipped. You hadn’t even considered that possibility when booking the cabin, assuming the girls would share like they used to when they were younger.

“Well...” You cleared your throat. “It’s a big bed. We’ll... manage.”

Hongjoong nodded, still smiling faintly. “We’ve survived worse.”

You tried not to read much into the warmth in his voice, quickly busying yourself by unpacking. Sharing a bed with your best friend felt... somewhat weird. But at least you were both adults. It would be fine.

Probably.

Once everything was sorted and the girls' tempers cooled down, Hanbin burst into the living room, practically vibrating with excitement and jumping up and down like a bouncy ball. “I know what I want to do first!” he announced, with sparkling eyes and a huge smile on his face.

Minseo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “This better not be something ridiculous.”

Hanbin ignored her, bouncing on his toes. “I want to go to the lake! We can swim and skip rocks!”

Yena groaned a little but didn’t protest, clearly itching to stretch her legs after the long drive. Minseo sighed but grabbed her swimsuit from her bag without further complaint.

You exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, who smirked knowingly. “Guess the lake it is,” he said, grabbing a couple of towels from the stack you’d unpacked.

Within minutes, everyone was ready, swimsuits on and sunscreen applied. The well-worn path to the lake stretched through a small wooded area surrounded by trees. The distant sound of water lapping against the shore grew louder as you approached.

When the trees parted, the lake spread out before you, sparkling like glass under the sinking sun. The familiar wooden dock jutted into the water, weathered but still sturdy, just as you remembered.

Hanbin wasted no time, sprinting toward the dock in a hurry. “Watch me, mom!” he yelled before cannonballing into the water with an impressive splash.

You laughed, shielding your face from the spray. “Careful!”

Minseo and Yena exchanged a glance before racing toward the water, both diving in gracefully. Their laughter echoed across the water as they surfaced, already bickering over whose dive was better.

You sat down on the dock’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. It was refreshing against your skin, easing the lingering tension from the long drive.

Hongjoong settled next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. He rested his arms on his knees, eyes on the kids as they played and splashed. His expression softened.

“It’s nice seeing them like this,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Yeah...” You nodded, watching Hanbin laugh as Minseo playfully dunked Yena under the water. “It feels... right. Like they’re making the same memories we did.”

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Hanbin’s voice rang out.

“Uncle Hongjoong! Mom! Come swim with us!” He waved both arms excitedly, his face lit up with pure joy.

You hesitated, but Hongjoong was already standing, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. He glanced back at you, smirking. “You coming, or what?”

Your breath hitched for a split second, heat rushing to your face as you watched Hongjoong pull his shirt over his head. His toned torso gleamed under the afternoon sun, soft muscles flexing effortlessly as he stretched. Hongjoong wasn't that muscular, not even in his youth, but he was lean and strong and pretty.

You swallowed hard, feeling like a teenager all over again - heart pounding, pulse quickening - as if seeing a man's body for the first time. 

Get it together. It’s just Hongjoong.

You quickly tore your gaze away. But then, as your children waited for you to join them in the lake, insecurity crept in like an unwelcome guest. Your eyes flickered downward, taking in your own reflection in the water’s rippling surface. Time hadn’t been as kind to you as it had been to Hongjoong. Years of motherhood, stress, and life had left soft curves where there once were muscles, stretch marks tracing the story of your children’s lives on your skin.

You tugged at the hem of your swimsuit self-consciously, smoothing it over your hips.The doubts remained though - you weren’t the same you once were, and standing next to someone like Hongjoong only highlighted every insecurity you tried so hard to ignore.

“Hey,” his voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, warm and gentle. You looked up, startled, only to find him standing at the edge of the dock, hand outstretched toward you, a familiar spark in his eyes. “You coming or what?”

His smile was so easy, so genuine - like he saw you, not the flaws you couldn’t stop focusing on. Like you hadn’t changed at all in his eyes.

Like you two were still 16, and Minji and Hyunwoo never broke you.

Before you could overthink it, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers closed around yours firmly, pulling you to your feet with effortless strength.

“Let’s go,” he urged, eyes crinkling in that familiar, heart-melting way.

Without giving yourself time to hesitate, you stepped forward - and together, hand in hand, you jumped into the cool, welcoming embrace of the lake.

“Oh my god, it's so cold!” you shrieked once you surfaced again.

Hongjoong surfaced right beside you, laughing as he wiped water from his face. “What did you expect? This lake has always been freezing.”

You splashed water at him playfully. “You could’ve warned me!”

He dodged the spray, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Before you could retaliate, Hanbin swam over, eyes wide with excitement. “Did you see my cannonball, Uncle Hongjoong? Wasn’t it awesome?”

“It was epic!” Hongjoong praised, ruffling the boy’s damp hair. “You’re practically a pro now.”

Hanbin beamed proudly, already plotting his next jump off the dock. Yena and Minseo swam closer, still competing against each other.

“Bet I can swim to the dock faster than you,” Minseo challenged Yena.

“Oh, you’re on,” Yena shot back, already propelling herself through the water.

You laughed, watching them go. “Some things never change.”

Hongjoong chuckled beside you, treading water effortlessly. “Good to see them like this... even if they argue half the time.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, feeling the ache of nostalgia tug at your chest. 

Before you could linger too long in your thoughts, a mischievous gleam lit up Hongjoong’s eyes. “Race you back to the dock?”

You raised a brow. “Really? You think you can still beat me?”

His smirk widened. “Still? I always beat you.”

“Dream on,” you challenged, already pushing off the water.

The two of you surged forward, the cold water slicing around you as you swam with everything you had. For a moment, you were young again - no responsibilities, no past heartaches - just two old friends racing through the water like nothing had ever changed.

Hongjoong reached the dock a split second before you, laughing breathlessly as he gripped the edge. “Still got it.”

You gasped, trying to catch your breath, splashing water at him. “Barely.”

He leaned against the dock, still laughing, his face inches from yours. His gaze softened, lingering on you in a way that felt... different - familiar but weighted with something deeper, something unsaid.

You remembered that gaze. It was the same way he looked at you many, many years ago.

“Hey...” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

Your breath caught, but before either of you could speak, Hanbin’s voice rang out.

“Mom! Uncle Hongjoong! Watch this!”

You snapped back to reality just in time to see Hanbin launching himself off the dock in another dramatic cannonball. Water sprayed everywhere, making you both laugh as the moment slipped away like the ripples spreading across the lake.

Hours passed, and as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the chill of the evening air slowly began to set in. Yena and Minseo were still splashing and laughing, but even their boundless energy was bound to fade.

“Alright, girls!” you called. “Time to head back and get some dinner.”

Yena groaned dramatically. “Already?”

“It’s getting late,” Hongjoong reasoned, wading out of the water. “And I’m pretty sure Hanbin’s about to pass out.”

You turned to see your son curled up on the dock, wrapped in a damp towel, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. A fond smile tugged at your lips. “Poor thing played himself out.”

Hongjoong was already stepping onto the dock, water still dripping from his hair as he crouched beside Hanbin. “Guess I’m on carrying duty.”

“Joong, I can-”

He waved you off with a playful smirk. “I’ve got him.” With surprising ease, he scooped Hanbin into his arms, cradling the boy’s head against his shoulder. Hanbin stirred faintly but didn’t fully wake up, sighing contentedly in his sleep.

Your heart clenched at the sight - at how effortlessly Hongjoong fit into moments like this, how natural he looked carrying your son…

Minseo and Yena trailed behind as you led the way back toward the house, still chatting about god knows what.

By the time you reached the back porch, the sky was a deep shade of blur, stars beginning to pierce through the fading twilight. You unlocked the door and gestured toward the cozy living room.

“Lay him on the couch,” you suggested quietly.

Hongjoong nodded, carefully settling Hanbin onto the plush cushions, adjusting a blanket over him. He lingered a moment, brushing damp hair from Hanbin’s forehead with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Thanks,” you whispered, unable to keep the emotion from your voice.

He met your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. “Anytime.”

Before the silence could stretch too long, Minseo poked her head into the room. “Mom, what’s for dinner?”

You smiled faintly, clearing your throat. “How about spaghetti?”

Minseo’s face lit up. “Can we help?”

“Of course.” You motioned toward the kitchen. “Yena, you too. You’re on garlic bread duty.”

The girls rushed ahead, their giggles echoing through the house. Hongjoong lingered in the doorway, watching his daughter with that soft, distant expression he always got when he thought no one was looking.

“How about you take a shower first? No need to help, me and the girls got this,” you suggested. 

Hongjoong groaned, stretching his body. “You sure?”

“Positive. You drove us here, I'll make dinner. It's the least I can do.”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you before nodding slowly. “Alright, but call me if you need anything.”

You smiled warmly. “Go. We’ve got it.”

He disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in the kitchen with the girls. Minseo was already setting a pot of water to boil while Yena hunted for the garlic bread ingredients.

“Mom, where’s the bread knife?” Minseo asked, rummaging through a drawer.

“Top left, under the cutting board.”

Yena held up a baguette triumphantly. “Found it!”

You chuckled, grabbing an apron from the hook. “Alright, let’s make this quick before you two pass out too.”

You couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace as you watched the girls. It made you think… When was the last time Minseo and Hanbin were this relaxed, this happy when Hyunwoo was still around? Of course they loved their father, but when the two of you were still married, the atmosphere was always tense. Never this light nor carefree. 

It's all thanks to Hongjoong and even Yena that your children could forget their worries and be happy. And even you could feel yourself smile and laugh without a single worry in the world right now.

Just as you were finishing the sauce, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Turning, you found Hongjoong leaning against the doorway, freshly showered, his hair damp and tousled, wearing a simple hoodie and sweatpants. He looked so relaxed, so… right.

“Smells amazing,” he said, his voice warm.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you replied, pretending your heart hadn’t just skipped a beat.

“Need me to set the table?” he offered.

“Already done,” Minseo piped up proudly.

He chuckled. “You girls are fast.”

“Sit,” you insisted, waving him toward the dining table. “Relax for once.”

Hongjoong held up his hands in surrender, moving to take a seat as the girls carried plates and bowls to the table.

Once everything was set, you all gathered around, Yena claiming the seat next to her father and eagerly telling him something, while Minseo took the seat right next to you. For a moment, it felt like you were part of something whole again - just a family sitting and eating together.

As the meal wound down, Hanbin stirred from the couch, his sleepy trying to blink the sleep away. “Mom...?”

You were by his side in an instant. “Hey, baby. You hungry?”

He nodded slowly, still half-asleep. Before you could lift him, Hongjoong was already there, scooping Hanbin up with practiced ease and settling him gently into a chair.

“Thanks, Uncle Joong,” Hanbin mumbled, leaning against him as you placed a small plate of spaghetti in front of him.

Hongjoong ruffled his hair with a fond smile. “Anytime, buddy.”

Hanbin had finished only a few bites of his spaghetti before sleep claimed him again. You and Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look. Without a word, he gently lifted Hanbin into his arms once more, cradling him like it was second nature. You followed him down the hall to Hanbin’s room, pushing the door open softly.

Hongjoong laid Hanbin down on the small bed, tucking the blanket up to his chin. His expression was so tender, so full of quiet affection that it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t quite explain. You stood at the foot of the bed, watching in silence as he smoothed Hanbin’s hair one last time before stepping back.

“Goodnight, buddy,” he whispered.

You mouthed a silent thank you as you both slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You and Hongjoong walked down the hall, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly as you walked side by side. Neither of you spoke, but the comfortable silence between you felt like its own kind of conversation.

As you reached your shared living space for the holidays, Hongjoong stretched with a quiet groan, running a hand through his still damp hair. “I think I’m officially done for the day,” he admitted, a tired but content smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly. “Go lay down already, I’ll check on the girls.”

He hesitated for a moment, searching your face as though he wanted to say something more, but ultimately he just nodded. “Goodnight... and thanks for today. For everything.”

“Anytime,” you replied warmly, echoing his earlier words.

He disappeared into your shared room, leaving you standing alone in the dimly lit hallway. With a soft sigh, you headed toward the girls’ rooms, pausing outside Minseo’s door. Peeking inside, you found her already curled up under her blankets, fast asleep. You adjusted her comforter gently before stepping back.

Just as you turned to leave, a faint, choked sound reached your ears - muffled sobs coming from Yena’s room. Your chest tightened, knowing instantly what it meant. You hesitated, fingers hovering over her door. You weren’t her mother... you didn’t want to overstep.

But you couldn’t just walk away either.

You knocked lightly, your voice soft but steady. “Yena? It’s... it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a long, agonizing silence. Just when you thought she wouldn’t answer, her voice, small and slightly hoarse, finally whispered, “...Okay.”

You pushed the door open slowly and found her curled up in a tight ball on her bed, her face buried in her arms, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. The soft glow of the moon bathed her room in silver light, casting long shadows across the walls.

Carefully, you sat on the edge of her bed, not wanting to crowd her. “Hey... what’s going on?”

“I just… I just wish mom was here, you know? But… but at the same time, I wish I'd never have to see her again… but I-i,” she choked out.

Your heart shattered at the weight of her words.

“I don’t... I don’t get how she could just do that to dad,” Yena continued, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and grief. “She was supposed to love him... to love me… but she ruined everything.”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you kept your voice steady. “It’s okay to feel both, Yena. Missing her doesn’t mean you’re forgiving what she did... and being angry doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving her.”

She sniffled, wiping at her tear-streaked face. “I hate that I still care… that part of me wants her back, even after everything she did.”

Carefully, you rested a gentle hand on her back. “That just means you have a big heart… and you love deeply. It’s not wrong to feel that way.”

Her lip trembled as she whispered, “It hurts so much.”

Without thinking, you opened your arms. She hesitated for only a second before collapsing into your embrace, her sobs breaking free as she clung to you.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “You’re allowed to feel everything... you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You held Yena close, letting her cry until the worst of her sobs subsided. You gently stroked her hair, whispering soothing words as her trembling lessened.

“I know it’s hard,” you murmured. “But you’re not alone, Yena. You’ll never be alone.”

A quiet shuffling sound drew your attention to the doorway. Minseo stood there, her dark hair tousled from sleep, eyes groggy but alert.

Yena tensed the moment she noticed her, eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” Yena’s voice cracked.

“Minseo, sweetheart... maybe you should go back to bed,” you suggested softly, not wanting to escalate things.

But Minseo didn’t budge. Without a word, she walked over, climbed onto the bed, and sat on the opposite side, her small hand reaching out to rest atop Yena’s.

Yena flinched but didn’t pull away, confusion flashing across her tear-streaked face.

“I... I get it,” Minseo said quietly, her voice steady but strained. “I miss my dad too... but I also hate him... and I don’t know how to stop feeling both.”

Your breath hitched.

Then, turning to you, she continued: “I don’t understand why you hate him… why you left him, mom...” Minseo continued, her fingers curling against Yena’s. “He was always nice... to me, at least. He never yelled or hit you... so why did you leave? Why did he stop talking to me? Why... why did everything have to change?”

Her voice cracked, tears filling her wide, questioning eyes. “I feel like I’m the reason he’s gone... like if I’d been better, maybe he would’ve stayed.”

Yena stared at Minseo. Then, quickly, she shook her head.

“It’s not your fault,” Yena whispered. “Parents... they just... mess up sometimes.”

Minseo’s lips trembled. “But he left... he doesn’t even call anymore. And... and mom, you never tell me what happened... you just expect me to be okay with it.”

Your heart broke all over again. “Minseo... I’m so sorry.”

For the first time, Yena squeezed Minseo’s hand. “I thought it was my fault too... what my mom did. But... maybe... it’s not about us.”

Minseo nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “It still hurts.”

“I know,” Yena whispered. “It hurts for me too.”

Without another word, the two girls leaned into each other, and giggled as they hit their heads.

They didn't even notice that you were long gone and soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

The car doors slammed shut one after another as you, Hongjoong, Yena, Minseo, and Hanbin stepped out into the parking lot of the amusement park. It has been Hanbin’s dream for the longest time to go here, and so it wasn't a surprise to see him practically vibrating with excitement, unable to stand still. “Can we go on the rides now?” he begged, bouncing on his toes.

“Shoes first,” you reminded gently, watching as he hastily retied a crooked lace.

Meanwhile, Minseo and Yena stood off to the side, chatting and giggling quietly about something only they understood. They shared a glance and broke into another round of laughter.

Hongjoong, locking the car, paused mid-motion, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the two girls. “...Are they laughing together?”

You bit back a smile, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Minseo and Yena rarely went five minutes without bickering - this newfound harmony was bound to set off alarm bells in his overprotective brain.

“They’re allowed to get along, you know,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He scoffed. “Since when?”

Before you could answer, Hanbin tugged at Hongjoong’s arm. “Please, can we go now?” His eyes sparkled with pure excitement.

“Alright, alright, let’s go before you explode,” Hongjoong relented, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As you all headed toward the amusement park entrance, Hanbin sprinted ahead, pointing at every ride he saw, his excitement even infecting you.

Yena and Minseo walked side by side, still wrapped up in their own quiet little world. 

Hongjoong couldn’t stop glancing at them, looking utterly confused. “This is... still so weird to see,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “They don’t fight anymore? What happened?”

You hid a smile. “Guess we'll never know.”

It has been two days since that night, yet every time he saw them together actually getting along, Hongjoong still acted like he'd just seen a ghost. It was hilarious honestly. 

He shot you a suspicious look but let it go, too distracted by Hanbin waving frantically near the ticket booth. “Come on! We’re wasting time!”

With tickets finally secured, you stepped into the park. Hanbin immediately took off like a rocket, forcing you and Hongjoong to jog after him.

“Let’s do that one!” Hanbin shouted, pointing to a massive roller coaster twisting through the sky.

“That’s a bit intense for a first ride,” you laughed. “Maybe we can try something a little... less likely to send me into cardiac arrest?”

Hanbin groaned dramatically but agreed. Yena and Minseo quietly whispered, eyeing the spinning teacup ride nearby.

“How about the teacups first?” you suggested.

To your surprise, both girls nodded eagerly. Even Hanbin agreed after a moment’s thought - probably because it meant getting on a ride as soon as possible.

As the ride operator let you in, Hanbin raced to grab a seat, demanding that Hongjoong spin their cup as fast as possible. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Hongjoong rolled his eyes but complied, already bracing himself for Hanbin’s shouts of “Faster Uncle Hongjoong, faster!”

You settled into another teacup with Minseo and Yena, the three of you spinning gently while the girls giggled every time it went a little fast.

After the teacups, you stretched your arms with a contented sigh. Your body wasn't getting any younger and even this little activity settled deep into your bones. “How about the Ferris wheel next? We can get a better view of the park from up there and plan what to do after.”

Hanbin’s face scrunched in disappointment. “The Ferris wheel? That’s boring!”

Before you could respond, Hongjoong gently ruffled his hair. “It’s not boring. It’s a good way to see where all the best rides are.”

Hanbin crossed his arms but reluctantly followed as you headed toward the towering Ferris wheel.

As you approached the line, Hanbin perked up. “I wanna ride with Minseo and Yena!”

The girls exchanged glances, raising their eyebrows. “Sorry, Hanbin,” Minseo said with mock seriousness. “Only girls allowed.”

“Yeah,” Yena added playfully. “You’re too little anyway.”

“Am not!” Hanbin stomped his foot, his cheeks turning red.

You opened your mouth to intervene, but Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your arm, shaking his head subtly. “Hey, bud,” he called to Hanbin. “You can ride with us.”

But Hanbin, now thoroughly offended, huffed and stomped toward an empty cart on his own.

“Hanbin, wait-” you started, but the ride operator had already secured the gate behind him. He plopped down in the cart with crossed arms, glaring at nothing in particular.

Hongjoong sighed. “He’s fine. He just needs a minute.”

You nodded, though worry still tugged at your chest. As the Ferris wheel slowly lifted you into the sky, you watched Hanbin’s cart ahead of yours. His pouty face softened a little as he gazed out over the park, clearly enchanted by the view despite his earlier protest.

Hongjoong also watched the children for a little before collapsing back into his seat, a groan escaping him.

“You look tired,” you said gently, breaking the comfortable silence.

He blinked, surprised. “Tired? Nah... I’m fine.”

“Liar.” You smirked knowingly. “You’ve been running around after Hanbin all day.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Without thinking, you shifted closer, reaching toward his shoulder. “Here, let me-”

Before your fingers could make contact, Hongjoong straightened abruptly, his eyes widening. “Ah! No need- seriously!”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure? You were literally wincing earlier.”

He waved a hand dismissively, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “I-I probably just... slept weird last night or something.”

“...Right.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how flustered he’d become. “I don't bite, Hongjoong.”

He scratched his head, avoiding your gaze. “I know. I just... you don’t have to.”

His shyness was almost endearing, and you found yourself smiling widely. 

Then, even though you were already moving on in your mind, Hongjoong let out a small, guilty sigh, and you perked up at that sound. “Okay... I might’ve brought my laptop.”

You blinked at him. “...Seriously? Joong, we’re on vacation. You promised no work.”

“I’m not working,” he defended himself quickly. “It’s just... in case something urgent comes up.”

You shook your head, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re hopeless.”

Before he could reply, the Ferris wheel gave a sudden, sharp jolt, making the entire cabin shake. You gasped as you lost your balance, tumbling forward and right into Hongjoong’s chest.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you securely against him. Your palms rested against the soft fabric of his hoodie, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now, concerned.

“Y-Yeah.” You nodded, still pressed against him. “That... wasn’t supposed to happen, right?”

His eyes flicked upward toward the still Ferris wheel mechanism. “I don’t think so...”

Neither of you moved, still tangled together as the realization slowly set in: you were stuck.

You became acutely aware of how close your faces were, his dark eyes searching yours, warmth radiating from his body. His arm was still firm around your waist, steadying you in the swaying cart, and you couldn’t help but notice the small details about him now that the two of you were so close. The glasses perched on his nose framed his sharp, elegant features- his jawline was slightly more defined than you remembered, as if time had chiseled away the last hints of softness from his youth. His lips, faintly pursed as he looked at you with concern, were fuller than they had any right to be.

His hair, dark and slightly tousled, framed his face effortlessly, giving him an almost disheveled yet neat charm that felt... magnetic. The open collar of his shirt exposed the curve of his collarbones and the faint shadows of muscle below. You tried not to look, but your gaze betrayed you, lowering there for just a moment too long.

It hit you like a punch to the gut- why the hell were you suddenly noticing these things? You’d known him for over two decades, had seen him in every possible light, from the awkward teen years to the confident adult he’d become. He was your best friend, and yet, as he stared at you now, his brow furrowed in mild confusion, you felt... different.

Your heart stuttered unexpectedly, a warmth creeping up your neck. This was Hongjoong - the same Hongjoong who stayed up late with you for endless movie marathons, who held your hand through your hardest days, who once got his head stuck in a fence when you were kids because he thought it’d make you laugh.

And yet, the man sitting in front of you now felt like someone else entirely. Not unfamiliar, but... new. There was a subtle intensity in his gaze, a quiet confidence in the way he held himself, as though life had refined him into someone you couldn’t quite place. It made you feel unsteady, like the Ferris wheel wasn’t the only thing off balance.

“Y/N? You still with me?” his voice broke through your clouded mind, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

“I-I’m fine,” you stammered, quickly sitting back in your seat.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he released a soft chuckle, his lips curving into a smile that seemed to tug a little too insistently at your chest.

This was bad. Very bad. Because the thoughts you were having weren’t the kind of thoughts you should be having about your best friend.

You forced yourself to breathe, pushing away these strange, unfamiliar thoughts. Shaking your head slightly, you turned your head. Your eyes scanned the Ferris wheel, quickly landing on the girls. Minseo and Yena were chatting away in their shared cart, seemingly unbothered by the sudden stop. Minseo had her phone out, and Yena was pointing to something on the screen, both of them laughing softly. You smiled a little. At least they were okay.

But then your gaze drifted to Hanbin’s cart.

And your stomach clenched.

Your son, who had looked so happy just moments ago, now looked anything but. His small hands were gripping the safety bar tightly, his knuckles white as his eyes darted around in pure panic. He was sitting stiffly, his legs drawn up slightly as though he were trying to make himself smaller than he actually was. Even from a distance, you could see how much he was shaking.

“Hanbin,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Hongjoong followed your gaze, immediately becoming alarmed. “Crap,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hanbin!” you called, leaning as far as you could toward his cart without tipping over. “It’s okay, sweetheart! We’re right here!”

But Hanbin didn’t seem to hear you. His head was bowed now, his face buried in his hands. His little frame shook visibly, and your chest tightened at the sight.

Hongjoong leaned forward, trying to get his attention . “Hanbin, buddy, look at me! It’s okay! You’re safe!”

The boy’s head lifted slightly, and his tear-filled eyes locked onto Hongjoong. “I-I’m scared!” he cried, his voice breaking.

“It’s alright,” Hongjoong said. “I know it’s scary right now, but I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Hanbin hesitated. Then, he slowly nodded and closed his eyes. His small chest rose and fell unevenly, but it was a start.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying your best to stay composed. 

“Hanbin,” you shouted. “Uncle Hongjoong and I are right here. You’re not alone. We’re going to get down soon, I promise.”

“You promise, mommy?” Hanbin sniffled, his big, teary eyes looking back and forth between the two of you.

Hongjoong nodded firmly. “Absolutely. But until then, we need you to be brave, okay? I mean, you’re the bravest kid I know, right?”

Hanbin’s lip quivered, but he nodded slightly, wiping at his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Good job,” Hongjoong praised. “Just keep breathing like that, bud. We’re gonna be fine.”

You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against Hongjoong’s arm. He didn’t pull away this time, his focus entirely on Hanbin. For a brief moment, you felt a wave of gratitude for him. Hongjoong had always been amazing with your son, but now, you realized just how close they really were. It would be impossible to imagine your children’s life without him in it.

As the Ferris wheel swayed slightly again, you tightened your grip on your seat. “We need to get him down,” you murmured, glancing at Hongjoong.

“We will,” he said. His jaw tightened as he scanned the park below, likely looking for the operator or a maintenance crew. “Look,” he pointed towards a few people gathering on the ground, “it seems like they're trying to solve it already.” 

You followed Hongjoong's gaze, spotting a group of workers in bright uniforms gathered near the base. They appeared to be discussing something, a few of them pointing up at the ride and gesturing animatedly. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting. Hanbin was still up here, still scared and alone, and every passing second felt like an eternity.

“Hanbin,” you called again, “the workers are going to fix this soon, okay? Just hold tight, sweetheart.”

He nodded, yet still looked uneasy. His hands hadn’t left the safety bar, his small fingers clutching it like it was his lifeline.

“I’ve got an idea,” Hongjoong said suddenly. “Hanbin, do you remember that song we were singing in the car on the way here?”

Hanbin blinked, his tear-streaked face turning toward Hongjoong. “The silly one?”

“Exactly!” Hongjoong grinned. “How about we sing it now? You lead, and I’ll follow.”

Hanbin hesitated, clearly unsure.

“Come on, bud,” Hongjoong urged gently. “It’ll help take your mind off things. And I need you to help me remember the words, okay?”

You watched as your son’s little shoulders relaxed just a little. Then, although still hesitant, he began to sing.

“There’s a bear in the woods, and he’s wearing a hat...”

Hongjoong joined in immediately. “He’s got big, big shoes and a cat on his back...”

With each line, Hanbin’s voice grew steadier, and a small smile even managed to steal itself on his lips By the second verse, he was giggling at Hongjoong’s deliberately off-key singing, and you felt some of the tension in your chest ease.

You joined in, too, harmonizing as best as you could. Minseo and Yena, hearing the commotion, peeked out of their cart and started laughing.

“Dad, this is a terrible song!” Yena called as she and Minseo exchanged glances.

“It's amazing, thank you very much!” Hongjoong retorted, feigning offense as he continued singing with Hanbin.

For a few precious moments, everything around you seemed to disappear. Hanbin’s laugh was infectious, and even you couldn’t help but smile despite the circumstances.

“See?” Hongjoong said as the song ended, giving Hanbin a thumbs-up. “Told you you’re the bravest kid ever.”

Hanbin beamed, his earlier panic almost entirely gone. “I am, huh?”

“The bravest,” you agreed, your voice warm with pride.

Just then, the Ferris wheel gave another lurch. This time, instead of jolting to a stop, it began to move again - slowly, but steadily.

“It’s moving!” Minseo exclaimed, her voice filled with relief.

Hanbin’s eyes widened. “Are we getting down now?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” you said, your own relief evident in your voice. “We’re getting down.”

The descent felt excruciatingly slow, but eventually, the children's carts snd then yours reached the bottom. The ride operator opened the gate, and you practically leaped out, eager to feel the ground under your feet again.

“Hanbin!” you called, rushing to your son immediately. He jumped into your arms without hesitation, his small body clinging to you tightly.

“You did so good, baby,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

Hongjoong crouched beside you, ruffling Hanbin’s hair. “Told you you were brave.”

Hanbin looked up at him, his eyes still a little red. “Thanks, Uncle Joong.”

“Anytime, bud,” Hongjoong said with a soft smile.

Minseo and Yena joined you shortly after, both girls looking relieved to see Hanbin was fine again. Luckily, they were almost completely unbothered by the whole ordeal.

After a while, Hongjoong stood up again and let out a sigh. “Alright, no more Ferris wheels today. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said, still holding Hanbin close.

“Can we do the bumper cars instead?” Hanbin asked, his big eyes looking up at you.

You exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, both of you smiling.

“Bumper cars it is,” he said. The girls also agreed without hesitation. It seemed like none of you could say no to Hanbin right now.

“Pretty eventful day, huh?” Hongjoong said quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping kids in the backseat. He shifted slightly, leaning his head against the window as you drove through the quiet streets.

“That’s one way to put it,” you replied, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “I’m still trying to figure out how Hanbin managed to hit me in the back of the head during that water gun game.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “That kid’s got good aim when it counts. Though I’m pretty sure Minseo was going for me the whole time.”

“Probably,” you said with a grin. “She told me earlier you were her ‘biggest threat.’ You should be honored.”

“Honored? I’m terrified,” he teased, leaning his head back. “She’s ruthless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid so determined to win.”

“She gets it from me,” you admitted, glancing over at him briefly. “I may have had a bit of a competitive streak when I was her age, remember?”

“‘May have’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Remember when we sneaked out to the arcane the day we had that exam? You were so determined to beat me in every fucking game we stayed so much longer than we intended to!”

You laughed, shaking your head at that memory. “Guilty as charged, Mr. Kim.”

He just rolled his eyes, so you focused on the road again. Your thoughts drifted back to the rest of the day, and you smiled fondly.

After the Ferris wheel and the bumper cars, the kids had insisted on trying out the water guns game. Hanbin had been determined to win a prize, his small hands gripping the water gun tightly as he aimed at the moving targets. Despite his best efforts, it was Minseo who ended up winning, much to his dismay. She’d teased him mercilessly until Yena stepped in, offering to share the plush dolphin she’d won earlier, which made Hanbin so happy he didn't leave the poor girl alone the whole time.

Then there was the roller coaster, which had been Minseo and Yena’s idea. Hanbin had been hesitant at first, clutching your hand tightly as you all waited in line, but his nervousness quickly turned into excitement once the ride began. You could still hear the sound of his laughter as the cart climbed to the top of the track, followed by his delighted screams as it rushed down the steep drop. Minseo and Yena had their hands in the air the whole time, having the time of their lives, while you and Hongjoong tried your best not to get nauseous. By the time the ride was over, Hanbin was begging to go again.

And, of course, there was the faithful cotton candy fiasco. Hanbin had managed to get more of the sticky treat on his face than in his mouth, and Yena had accidentally dropped hers, resulting in a brief meltdown that was only solved when Hongjoong offered to share his. The sight of him holding a piece of pink fluff out to his daughter, being all dramatic he'd had to share, was one you’d never forget.

“Hey,” Hongjoong said suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re smiling. What’s on your mind?”

“Hm? Just… the whole day, I guess,” you admitted. “The kids were so happy today.”

“They were,” he agreed, a huge smile on his face. “And you? Were you happy?”

You glanced over at him, surprised by the question. “I… yeah, I think I was. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way. Hyunwoo didn't cross my mind once today, which is… good. Surprising, but good.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I don’t think I thought about Minji once today, either.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. “That’s a first, huh?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “A good one.”

Neither of you said anything else after that. You focused on the road ahead, the familiar curve of the driveway to your holiday house coming into view. As you pulled in, the headlights swept across the front porch, casting soft light onto the porch. You parked and turned off the engine, plunging the car into silence.

You sat there for a moment, staring straight ahead, your hands still resting on the steering wheel. The only sound was the faint snoring of the kids in the backseat.

And then, before you could think twice about it, the words tumbled out of your mouth. “Sometimes, I wish I married you instead of Hyunwoo.”

The moment the words left your mouth, your breath caught in your throat, and your hands immediately tightened their grip on the steering wheel. It felt as though the world around you had frozen, the silence inside the car growing impossibly heavy. You didn’t dare look at Hongjoong, but you could feel his gaze on you - intense, and just as shocked as you felt.

You hadn’t meant to say it. You hadn’t even consciously thought about it until the words were out in the open, hanging between you like a live wire. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse so loud in your ears that it drowned out everything else. 

What the hell had you just done?

Hongjoong finally broke the silence, staring at you with wide eyes. “You… you wish you married me?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t indifferent, either. It was soft, uncertain, like he was trying to wrap his head around what you’d just admitted. And that made it even worse, because now you had to confront the weight of what you’d said - what you’d always been too afraid to acknowledge.

“I…” You swallowed hard, shaking your head slightly as you stared down at your lap. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean to- it just-” You stopped yourself, closing your eyes as you tried to organize the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raging inside you.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel about it. For twenty years, you’d been with Hyunwoo. And yes, those years had been difficult -especially toward the end - but they hadn’t all been bad. There was a time when you’d loved him deeply, when you’d believed he was the person you were supposed to spend your life with. The early years of your marriage had been filled with so much laughter, passion, and the kind of love that made you feel like you could take on anything together.

But as the years passed, things had gradually changed. The love you’d once shared had been replaced by resentment and silence, by arguments that left you feeling more alone than ever. And yet, even then, you’d held onto the memories of what you used to have, convincing yourself that if you just tried hard enough, you could get it all back.

And through it all, through 20 years of life and hardships, there was Hongjoong. Your best friend, your confidant, the one person who seemed to understand you even when you didn’t understand yourself. He was always there. But you never let yourself think of him as anything more than a friend - not really. Maybe in your early teenage years you were crushing on him, but after that, you buried these thoughts deep within you. Because to admit that would have meant facing the fact that something was missing in your marriage. And you weren’t ready to face that. Not then.

But now… now you were free. And so was he. And suddenly, the barriers you’d spent so long building between you were starting to crumble.

“I loved Hyunwoo,” you said finally, your voice trembling slightly. “I did. At least… at the start, I did. I loved him enough to marry him, to build a life with him. But somewhere along the way, it just… it stopped working. And I tried so hard to fix it, to make it better, but-” You paused, letting out a shaky breath. “But I think, deep down, I always knew there was something missing.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but you could feel him listening intently, just like he always did.

“And you…” You hesitated, finally forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes were wide, vulnerable in a way you’d rarely seen. “You’ve always been there, Joong. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I was too blind or too stubborn to see it. And I don’t know… I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if it means anything at all. But today, for the first time in years, I felt happy. Really, genuinely happy. And when I think about why…” You trailed off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill. “It’s you.”

You felt like you’d just stripped yourself bare in front of him. You didn’t know what you were expecting - anger, confusion, maybe even rejection - but what you saw in his eyes was none of those things.

Instead, there was a genuine smile on his face.

And maybe… just maybe… hope in his eyes.

“You’re not the only one who felt that today,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the heavy emotions in his eyes. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about you, since… since forever, if I’m being honest. But I never wanted to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks now, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back. “Joong…”

“Don’t cry,” he said gently, reaching out to brush a tear away with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to absorb his words. His warmth, his love, it all made you feel like you could breathe again. 

But then, reality set in.

“I don’t… I don't think I’m ready,” you admitted, your voice trembling as the emotions began to spill out. “As much as I would like to… I just... Joong, I’ve never told you everything about how bad it really was… with Hyunwoo.”

His expression shifted, anger taking over his features, but he didn’t say anything, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I could handle it, you know? At first, it wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t so bad. But over the years, it just… it wore me down. The way he spoke to me, the way he made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, like everything I did was wrong. And when he wasn’t yelling, it was worse. The silence, the distance, the way he looked at me like I was a burden he had to put up with. It broke me, Joong. He broke me...”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to escape. But it was useless. The tears were flowing freely now, and you couldn’t stop them.

Hongjoong’s hand moved to cover yours, gently pulling it away from your face so he could see you fully. “You don’t have to explain everything now,” he said softly, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “But I’m here. I’m here to listen, whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m still trying to figure it out, to pick up the pieces of who I used to be before him. And the kids… they need me to be strong for them, to focus on them. Especially now that Hyunwoo decided to completely ghost them. I don’t know if I can do this- if I can handle anything more. I’m scared, Joong. Scared of messing it all up again.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. “You didn’t mess anything up. He did. And you don’t have to figure it all out right now. There’s no rush, no pressure. I’ll wait, okay? As long as it takes. I’ll wait.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost too much to bear, and the guilt that had been clawing at your chest finally broke free. “I don’t deserve this,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” he said firmly, his hands cupping your face now, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given. And I’ll remind you of that every single day until you believe it.”

The dam inside you broke completely then, and you collapsed into his arms, sobbing against his chest. You cried for all the pain you’d endured, for the years you’d lost, for your children, for yourself.

Hongjoong held you through it all, his arms wrapped tightly around you without letting go of you. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to let go, to be vulnerable, knowing that he would catch you if you fell.

The sound of a small, groggy voice broke through the fragile bubble you and Hongjoong had created.

"Mommy?"

You pulled back from Hongjoong’s embrace quickly, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands. Turning toward the voice, you saw Hanbin rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Why are you crying?” he mumbled, and even though he was extremely tired he still looked worried.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. Forcing a smile onto your face, you reached back to gently brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” you whispered softly, your voice steady despite the lump still lodged in your throat. “Mommy just got a little emotional, that’s all. But everything’s fine.”

Hanbin blinked up at you, his small brow furrowing as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. His gaze flickered to Hongjoong for a moment, who offered him a reassuring smile and a gentle, “Your mom’s right, bud. Everything’s okay.”

That seemed to settle him, and he nodded sleepily, already leaning his head back against the car seat. “Okay…” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut once more.

You let out a shaky breath, relief washing over you as his breathing evened out again. He had worn himself out so much it only took him a few seconds to fall asleep again.

Hongjoong reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get them inside.”

You nodded, unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of the car. The cool night air helped clear your mind a bit as you moved to open the back door. Hongjoong had already scooped Hanbin up into his arms, the boy barely stirring as he settled against him.

“I’ll grab Minseo,” you whispered, glancing over at your daughter, who was curled up in her seat with her head resting on Yena’s shoulder.

Hongjoong nodded and waited for you to unbuckle Minseo before he began carrying Hanbin toward the house. You gently shook Minseo awake, and her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy protest escaping her lips.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you said softly, helping her out of the car. “We’re home now. Let’s get you to bed.”

Minseo mumbled something incoherent but allowed you to guide her toward the house, her steps slow and heavy with exhaustion.

Once you got her inside and tucked into bed, you found Hongjoong already settling Yena under the covers on the pull out bed in the living room. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening as your eyes met.

“All good?” he asked quietly, his voice low to avoid waking the kids.

You nodded, leaning against the doorframe for a moment as you watched him adjust the blanket over his daughter. “Yeah. They’re out like lights.”

“Same here,” he said, stepping back from Yena’s bed and joining you in the hallway.

Quietly, you left, and then after changing and washing up, the two of you settled into your shared bed. It wasn’t the first time you’d shared this space, but tonight, it felt impossibly intimate.

Hongjoong turned slightly to face you, his head resting against the pillow as he studied you quietly. You mirrored his position, your bodies close enough that your knees brushed beneath the covers. His gaze was soft, tender in a way that made your heart ache.

Neither of you spoke at first, your eyes saying so much more than words ever could. Tentatively, your fingers reached out, brushing against his cheek before moving to trace the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he lifted his hand to do the same, his fingers trailing along the delicate lines of your face as though he were memorizing every detail.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. “I think you might need your eyes checked.”

“I don’t,” he replied firmly, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I mean it.”

His words, his touch, they were overwhelming in the best way. For the first time in years, you didn’t feel the need to deflect, to argue against the kindness being offered to you. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, into him.

You talked about nothing in particular that night, and through it all, the two of you stayed close, your fingers occasionally grazing as you spoke.

It felt like peeling back layers, like rediscovering each other in a way you hadn’t allowed yourselves to before. The sound of his voice, the warmth in his gaze - it all felt like home.

But even as sleep began to claim you both, neither of you moved away. Your hands remained loosely clasped between you, a silent promise that whatever tomorrow might bring, tonight, you were exactly where you needed to be.

The rest of the week went by quickly.

One of the other highlights was a trip to a nature trail nestled on the outskirts of town. The path wound through towering trees seemed to engulf you fully. The kids ran ahead, giggling as they pointed out interesting flowers, squirrels darting up trees, and the occasional butterfly flitting across the path. Yena and Minseo took turns being the “trail guides,” holding a small map they’d gotten from the trail’s entrance and excitedly directing the group to scenic spots. 

And more often than not, the girls managed to get you all lost.

Hongjoong walked beside you, Hanbin perched on his shoulders after growing tired. “You’re taller than everyone now,” Hongjoong teased, and Hanbin let out a delighted squeal, spreading his arms like wings.

The hike led to a clearing where a stream ran through the woods, its water crystal clear. Yena and Minseo quickly shed their shoes to splash around, their laughter carrying through the forest. Hanbin joined them with a little help from Hongjoong, who rolled up his pants and stepped into the cool water with him. You sat on the bank, watching them and taking a few pictures of the scenery.

On your last day, the five of you visited a local berry farm for some hands-on fun. Buckets in hand, you and the kids wandered through rows of lush bushes heavy with ripe berries. Minseo and Yena turned it into a friendly competition, seeing who could pick the most, while Hanbin focused on eating the fruits as much as collecting them. Hongjoong stayed by his side, laughing at his enthusiasm and sneaking berries for himself when he thought no one was looking.

When everyone had their fill, you gathered under a shaded pavilion to rest. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, and all of you made yourselves comfortable on the picnic blankets you brought along, the kids started pointing out cloud shapes and sharing silly stories. Hongjoong stretched out beside you, his hand resting near yours, his thumb occasionally brushing your knuckles. It was a small, quiet moment, but it felt like the perfect end to a perfect day.

By the end of the week, everyone was pleasantly worn out, and when you packed up and left your holiday home, the children were already begging to come back next summer.

Now that you were back home, everyday life slowly returned. School had started again, and while Minseo was doing fine, Hanbin still needed your help here and there and so, everyday after work, you spent your time helping him with his homework and studies. 

That, of course, also meant that you didn’t see Hongjoong much right now. Because that's the only reason, and not that you were internally freaking out about your confession and what it would mean for your future. You couldn’t explain it - not fully - but the vulnerability you’d allowed yourself that night now felt like too much, too raw. So, little by little, you began to withdraw, telling yourself it was for the best.

It started with excuses. When he knocked on your door, asking if you and the kids wanted to join him and Yena for a simple dinner or a walk to the park, you’d smile apologetically, citing exhaustion from work or chores that couldn’t wait. You kept conversations at the threshold brief, always steering them toward neutral topics and away from anything personal.

You avoided lingering in shared spaces. The mornings when you’d normally sip coffee together on the porch turned into rushed cups at the kitchen counter, your eyes trained on the clock. Even in the evenings, when the kids played together in the backyard, you made excuses to stay inside, watching them from the window instead.

But Hongjoong noticed. Of course he noticed. His subtle attempts to meet your eyes lingered longer, and the warmth in his smile dimmed slightly when you looked away too quickly. He didn’t push, didn’t confront you, and that made the distance feel even heavier.

Minseo, after making up with Yena on the trip and also blissfully unaware of the undercurrent between you and Hongjoong, continued spending time with Yena as much as possible. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to pull away. If anything, every fiber of your being longed for the comfort of his presence, the steady assurance and love he offered without asking for anything in return. But that was what terrified you the most - that if you allowed yourself to lean on him too much, you might not find the strength to stand on your own again. And deep down, you feared that he might realize you weren’t as deserving as he insisted you were.

And so, for the first time since you had known Hongjoong, you let the walls between you grow taller. What you didn’t expect was just how much it would hurt.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the school bus arrived before your house. You adjusted Hanbin’s backpack, bending down to plant a kiss on his forehead before ushering him toward the bus. Minseo followed, waving to you briefly before stepping up onto the bus.

“Have a good day!” you called after them. Hanbin turned to wave one last time before disappearing inside.

Of course your gaze drifted - inevitably - toward the house next door. Yena was climbing onto the bus herself, her dark hair swishing as she waved to Hongjoong, who stood on his porch, hands in his pockets.

Your breath hitched slightly when your eyes met his. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer the soft warmth you were used to. Instead, there was something hard in his gaze, a frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw was tight, and though his stance was relaxed, there was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders.

You froze, uncertain whether to look away or acknowledge him. But he made the decision for you, stepping off his porch and striding toward your house with a deliberate calm that made your stomach twist.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone clipped. 

“Morning,” you replied, your voice barely audible. You took a half-step back, feeling cornered even though he stood a few feet away.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, cutting straight to the point. His gaze didn’t waver, and there was no softness in his expression now, just concern tinged with a mix of anger.

You swallowed hard, trying to muster an excuse, but the words caught in your throat. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said finally. You quickly glanced towards your front door. “I-I should really get to the dishes,” you stammered, taking a step back into your house. Your hand gripped the door, your knuckles white as you forced a tight smile. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Before he could respond, you shut the door firmly, the sound of it slamming echoing in the quiet of the morning. You didn’t wait, immediately turning toward the kitchen, heart racing as you tried to escape the weight of his gaze.

But before you could take more than a few steps, the door burst open behind you, and you froze in your steps.

“Seriously?” Hongjoong’s voice was sharp as the door clicked shut behind him again. His footsteps were heavy and fast as he strode into the house.

You spun around, your stomach twisting. “Hongjoong, I-”

“No.” He didn’t stop, didn’t falter as he crossed the space between you in a matter of moments. “You don’t get to slam the door in my face like that.”

“Hongjoong, please, I just-”

“No.” Hongjoong’s voice cut through the room like steel, his gaze unwavering as he stopped just a step away from you. “You don’t get to shut me out like that.”

“Hongjoong, please,” you said, voice trembling. “I just need space.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Space?” His voice softened, and his eyes pleaded with you. “I promised I would wait, but you're completely avoiding me, Y/N!”

You didn’t answer, eyes darting to the floor as heat rose to your cheeks. The weight of his frustration was overwhelming, but what unnerved you the most was the love that was still so evident in his eyes despite his anger.

“Y/N,” he said, voice quieter now but no less firm. “I’m not going to let you do this. Not to yourself. Not to me.”

You tried to step around him, muttering something incoherent about really needing to finish the dishes. But before you could take another step, his hand shot out, fingers curling gently but firmly around your wrist.

“You want to do the dishes?” His voice dropped low, and your whole body shuddered. “Fine. Let’s do the dishes.”

Before you could protest, he guided you to the sink, standing close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He released your wrist, his hands instead resting lightly on your waist, his fingers pressing into the softness there. You stiffened, but he didn’t move away.

"Go on," he said, his voice low. "Start washing."

Your hands trembled as you reached for a plate, the silence between you heavy. You couldn’t focus - the way he was standing behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his hands on your hips made you spiral.

His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned closer. His hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you, but it was the brush of his lips against the side of your neck that made you freeze entirely.

“Hongjoong…” you whispered, your voice trembling. You weren’t even sure if it was a plea for him to stop or to continue.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he murmured softly, his voice low and steady. “I’ve always been here. But please, just talk to me…”

The tenderness in his tone broke something inside you. His lips grazed your neck again, this time lingering longer, and an involuntary shudder ran through you. You clenched the dish you were holding.

When he kissed just below your ear, a soft, choked sound escaped your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you let the plate fall back into the sink with a clatter, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

“Hey…” His voice was alarmed now, and his hands quickly moved to your shoulders, turning you around to face him. The tears spilling down your cheeks made his expression soften, his anger dissolving into concern. “Y/N, talk to me.”

You wiped at your face quickly, embarrassed, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry,” you managed, shaking your head. “I just- I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let you in without ruining everything.”

He frowned, his hands cupping your face gently. “You’re not going to ruin anything. Why do you think that?”

A shaky laugh escaped you, more bitter than you intended. “Because we’ve been friends for over twenty years, Hongjoong. What if we mess this up? What if we can’t go back to being… us? I can’t lose you, too.”

His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his gaze unwavering. “Y/N, we’ve survived every other challenge life has thrown at us. We’ll survive this, too. I want to be with you, and that feeling will never stop.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did. 

He studied your face for a long moment, his gaze softening. “There’s something else bothering you, right?” His voice was gentle, coaxing. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You felt the lump in your throat tighten, threatening to choke you. 

“It's… it's actually so dumb,” you laughed bitterly, but Hongjoong immediately shook his head. 

“Is this about Hyunwoo? What did he tell you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “Whatever it is he put on you. Whatever he made you believe about yourself.” His hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly. “I’m telling you, Y/N, he was wrong.”

“Hongjoong,” you whispered, gripping the edge of the counter, “you don’t understand-”

“No, I think I do.” His voice was rough, but his touch gentle as he leaned closer. “Don’t think about him. Don’t let him take up another second of your thoughts. He doesn’t know how to appreciate a real woman.”

You froze at his words, tears prickling at your eyes. Of course he immediately knew what you were thinking about. “I’m not... I’m not who I was 20 years ago, Hongjoong. I’m not-”

“Of course you’re not,” he interrupted, his hands squeezing your full hips. “You’re not supposed to be. You’re a woman. A damn beautiful one, for fuck’s sake.”

His words broke something inside you, a sob escaping before you could hold it back. He didn’t hesitate, pulling you against him as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he could shield you from every doubt, every insecurity that had ever plagued you.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he murmured against your temple. “You’re enough, just as you are. And I swear to you, I’ll spend as long as it takes proving that to you.”

“I'm sorry for being so childish,” you mumbled into his chest, which made him chuckle a little.

“It's fine. Just don't do it again, okay? Also,” he took a step back, and you immediately missed his arms around you, “we don't have to make anything official yet. It's just you and me. No labels matter, because they won't even come close to describe the love I have for you anyways.”

“I want to take care of you,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you. We have a few hours until the children are back. Do you… I mean… if you want, of course-”

God, the way he was struggling for words made you break out into laughter, which in turn made his entire face turn a deep shade of red. You took his hand, squeezing it carefully. 

“I… I feel better now that I told you. So, if you want…”

-Of course I want!”

You giggled. “Then… bedroom?”

He didn't even nod, just pulled you out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into your bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind him, he wrapped his arms around you again, this time more possessively, as if he wanted to make sure no one else would be able to see you or touch you.

His hands cupped your face, and then his lips were on yours. It was a kiss that held more promises than a thousand words.

It was the kind of kiss that made you feel safe and loved, and it was the kind of kiss that made the doubts you had previously had about him dissipate instantly.

Hongjoong kissed you as if his life depended on it, and the way his tongue moved against yours made a shiver run down your spine.

“Do you have any toys?” He suddenly asked. 

“H-huh?” You blushed, remembering the hidden box of unused toys you indeed had but never used, because Hyunwoo never wanted to. And after your divorce, you kind of forgot about it anyway.

“I- well, I do. But-”

He didn't let you finish. Instead, he grabbed your hand and led you to the bed, where he made you sit.

“You can just tell me, and I'll bring them here. I'll show you how much fun it can be.”

Your stomach twisted nervously, and you looked down, your cheeks burning.

“Y/N,” he carefully said, kneeling down before you. “I want to worship you. I want to use the toys on you if you'd like that. So, tell me, do you want me to use them on you?”

You swallowed hard, still unable to look up.

“Y/N, hey,” he said softly, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We can wait, we don't have to-”

“N-no,” you quickly said, looking up and into his eyes. “It's not that I don't want to. I'm just a bit scared, and also-”

“Scared?” His brow furrowed. “Why would you be scared, darling?”

“Because I've never used them. I-I don't know how they work. Or-”

He gave a little smile. “I'll show you. I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun."”

“I-okay…”

“You're sure?”

"Y-yeah."

Hongjoong placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then got up and left the room. You watched him, biting your lower lip nervously.

When he came back, he had your big, white box in his hands, and his grin widened as he opened it.

“I see, my girl likes plugs, hm?”

You blushed, looking away again. “I've never tried them.”

“But you would like to try it, right?”

You nodded slowly, and the next thing you knew, Hongjoong was straddling your lap.

“Do you want to try them right now, babygirl?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and the pet name made heat pool in your stomach.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Good,” he breathed, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your neck. “Now, I'd love to see you try these. Which ones do you think you'll like the most, sweetheart?”

You didn't know what to say, so you pointed to a pink plug, and Hongjoong smiled.

“That looks like a good one. We'll use this, and this,” he reached for a vibrator. “I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun.”

With a quick movement, he took your shirt off, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn't worn a bra today.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Hongjoong murmured, his gaze hungrily roaming your body. 

“'M not,” you murmured, “I gained too much weight…”

He silenced you with a kiss. “You're beautiful,” he said, his hand resting on your thigh. “And I can't wait to make you feel good.”

With that, he stood up again, and walked towards the bedside table. “Is your lube in here?”

You nodded shyly. “It is.” Hongjoong opened the drawer quickly and pulled out said bottle of lube.

“You can relax now,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you, darling.”

 He helped you lie down, and then started working your pants open. Soon, you were only wearing your panties, and Hongjoong couldn't keep his eyes off your curves.

“Fuck, I love your body,” he breathed. “You're so fucking sexy, Y/N.”

You flushed, biting your lip. “Really?”

“Of course. I thought you were pretty when we were 16, but now... you're so much more than that.”

His hand brushed along your side, making you shudder. Hongjoong started to trail soft kisses down your body. Your belly, your hips, and finally, the waistband of your panties.

“Can I take these off?”

You nodded again, and he pulled your underwear down slowly.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You're dripping already, aren't you, princess?”

“I-i’m so wet for you,” you whined, and his eyes lit up.

“So needy already, babygirl.”

He pushed your legs apart, his thumb brushing along your slit, and the sensation made you gasp.

“You're so sensitive,” he said, “I love it.”

He started rubbing slow circles on your clit, and you could feel the heat building up in your stomach already.

“Are you already close, babygirl?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Well, don't hold back,” he murmured, leaning down.

And then, his tongue was on your clit, making you moan. You could feel his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, and his hand moved down to tease at your entrance.

“Fuck, Hongjoong, please,” you whined.

“So needy,” Hongjoong purred. “Do you want my fingers, sweetheart?”

“Please!”

“What's the magic word?” You blushed at his dirty words. Hearing him talk like that for the first time did some unspeakable things to you.

“P-please, Hongjoong, I want your fingers!”

You were rewarded with two of his fingers entering you, and you moaned at the stretch.

“O-oh, fuck,” you gasped.

“You're doing so well,” he murmured, starting to thrust his fingers into you.

His mouth went back to sucking on your clit, his tongue lapping at the sensitive nub. He kept fingerfucking you, his fingers hitting just the right spot, and soon, you felt the familiar feeling building up in your core. You haven't had an orgasm in so long, so it was overwhelming you in the best way possible. 

“You can cum for me, princess,” Hongjoong encouraged, his tongue swirling around your clit. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

You moaned loudly, your back arching as your orgasm washed over you.

He didn't stop his movements, and you whined at the overstimulation. 

“Come on, babygirl,” Hongjoong said. “Cum for me once more. You can do that for me, can't you?”

“I-i can't, please!” You cried out, and he started fingering you even harder, his tongue still teasing your clit.

“That's it, Y/N,” he breathed. “Cum for me, baby.”

The sensation was overwhelming, and soon, you felt another orgasm building up, and you moaned, throwing your head back as pleasure washed over you once more.

Hongjoong pulled his fingers out, making you whimper.

“Are you alright, princess?” He asked softly.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath.

“How about we use the toys now, hm?”

He grabbed the pink plug, and poured some lube onto it.

“Can you stay on all fours for me, darling?”

You nodded, turning around and getting on all fours.

“Look at you, being such a good girl for me,” Hongjoong murmured, and the praise made a shiver run down your spine.

On one hand, it was weird hearing your best friend of 20 years say such filthy things to you, but on the other hand... it was kind of hot.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

You felt the cool plug teasing your entrance, and the tip slowly slid into you.

“How does that feel?”

“G-good,” you gasped.

“Tell me if it's too much, okay?”

“I will.”

“You're doing so well,” he breathed. “Do you want me to fuck you with it?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped.

“Good.”

Hongjoong started pushing the plug deeper into you, and the sensation made you moan. The toy was bigger than his fingers, and it stretched you open deliciously.

“Do you like that, princess?”

“So fucking good,” you moaned. “B-but... I wanna do something for you too, Joongie. Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice low and rough. "”What do you have in mind?”

You bit your lip. You were embarrassed, but you needed him. You wanted to pleasure him.

“I wanna suck you off.”

He all but whined at that, and a deep blush crept up his neck.

You crawled off the bed, and Hongjoong sat down on the edge, his hands immediately running through your hair.

“You don't have to, Y/N. This is supposed to be about you.”

“I know. But I want to.”

Hongjoong's breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded.

“O-okay.”

You got down on your knees before him, and you started working his jeans open. His bulge was straining against his underwear, and you couldn't help but feel flattered that you did that to him.

“You're so hard,” you mumbled, and Hongjoong let out a groan.

“I won't last long,” he warned.

“It's fine,” you giggled.

You pulled his boxers down, and his erection sprung free, and god, it was definitely bigger than you'd imagined. Because yes, you did think about your best friend's dick before.

“Are you really sure?”

“Oh, I definitely am.”

With that, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he panted. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, and Hongjoong's grip on your hair tightened.

“Goddamn it,” he breathed. “D-don't stop.”

You started bobbing your head, sucking harder as you did. You felt Hongjoong's grip on your hair tighten, and the sounds he was making only spurred you on.

“So good, Y/N, just like that,” he moaned, and his praises only encouraged you more. You sucked harder, taking him deeper into your mouth, and you heard him moaning louder.

“I-I'm gonna cum, baby,” he gasped. “Where do you want me to cum?”

You couldn't reply, so instead, you just kept bobbing your head. You sucked him harder and harder, and then, you felt him twitch inside your mouth.

“Y/N!”

He came with a moan, and you swallowed all of it, the salty taste lingering on your tongue.

Hongjoong's grip on your hair relaxed.

“Fuck, Y/N, that was amazing,” he gasped.

You gave him a smile, and stood up.

“Did I make you feel good?” You asked, and Hongjoong grinned.

“Fuck yes you did.” Hongjoong leaned toward the bed, grabbing the vibrator. “Let's have some more fun with this, yeah? After all,” he looked at the clock and smirked, “the kids won't be home for a few more hours.”

24th of december, 2024.

The smell of cookies and gingerbread filled the air, the Christmas lights twinkled, and the golden ornaments were shimmering in the warm glow.

Hanbin and Yena were sitting on the floor, playing with the new dolls Hanbin had gotten for Christmas. Minseo was lounging on the couch, listening to music, and Hongjoong was helping you in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself, watching how Yena was listening intensely to Hanbin explaining to her how she should play with the new toys. You didn't even mind that they were a little too loud, and the sound of their voices blended with the music coming from Minseo's phone, creating a comfortable and cozy atmosphere.

“They're so cute,” Hongjoong said, handing you a mug of cocoa, “almost like real siblings.”

“I know,” you smiled, taking a sip.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and kissed the top of your head.

It had been an intense few months. A lot of things had changed; of course, there was your relationship with Hongjoong, going from lifelong friends to partners. 

You had told the kids pretty early on, and they had taken it surprisingly well. You had expected more confusion and maybe some questions, but in the end, all three of them had been delighted. Minseo's response had been a simple shrug, stating she already knew, which made you laugh. And Hanbin was already telling everyone who would listen that he now had two sisters.

But unfortunately, these had been the only good news for the kids. By now, their father had completely cut contact with the children after ghosting them the whole summer. You still remembered how Minseo and Hanbin broke down as you had to tell them, crying in your arms for hours and hours on end. His complete disappearance over the summer had left a hole in the kids' hearts that was hard to fill, and the court battle that followed only seemed to make everything worse. You could still hear their voices in your head - the way Hanbin had asked, tearfully, if he'd done something wrong to make his father leave, or how Minseo, after months of letting her anger out on you and refusing to open herself, had quietly broken down, asking what it was that made her father stop loving her. Those were the moments that hurt the most, when you couldn’t find the right words to reassure them.

It was clear Hyunwoo wanted nothing to do with his responsibilities, as if he was trying to sever all ties, not just with you, but with his children as well. His refusal to pay any child support only added salt to the wound, a constant reminder of how little he cared. The court proceedings felt like they stretched on endlessly, but it was the emotional toll on Minseo and Hanbin that made everything feel worse. You tried to keep it together for them, but there were days when you just didn’t know how to shield them from the hurt any longer.

And then there was Hongjoong’s side of things, which wasn’t any easier. Though Minji had remained in contact with Yena, it wasn’t without its complications. Yena had always looked up to her mother, but since the truth came out about her affair Yena’s world had been turned upside down. Every time Yena visited her mother, she couldn't stay long, because seeing her mother with that man she had hurt her father with hurt her a lot. And though Minji tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, the tension between them never completely faded away.

Hongjoong's lips found their way to yours, and you sighed into the kiss. 

“You're thinking about something negative again,” he murmured. “Its Christmas, Y/N. You and the kids should be happy today.” 

You smiled, stealing another quick kiss from him. Just a few years earlier, you had never thought about kissing your best friend, but it had turned out to be one of the best things you'd ever experienced. He was so gentle, and his touch always sent shivers down your spine.

“I know,” you whispered against his lips, still savoring the warmth of his kiss. “It’s just hard not to think about everything, you know? Especially when I see the kids still hurting so much.”

Hongjoong nodded, his hands resting gently on your waist. “I get it,” he murmured, “but today is about us. The kids are happy, we’re happy. Let's just celebrate today.”

Then, Hanbin’s voice caught both your attention. “Mom! Uncle Hongjoong!” He called out, looking up from the dolls as his little face lit up. 

You exchanged a smile with Hongjoong before both of you headed toward the kids. They were gathered around the tree, eagerly waiting for you both to join them. Hanbin was bouncing on his heels, his small hands clutching something behind his back, while both Yena and Minseo exchanged glances with each other.

“What’s going on, little man?” Hongjoong asked, kneeling down beside Hanbin. The little boy grinned wide, clearly too excited to wait any longer.

“Close your eyes!” Hanbin instructed, and Hongjoong and you exchanged amused looks before doing as told. Both of you waited in silence as Hanbin scurried to the side, the rustling of paper and soft giggles filling the air.

"Okay, open them!" Hanbin’s voice rang out, and you opened your eyes to see him holding a small, carefully wrapped box. Minseo stood beside him, and she had a shy, almost nervous smile on her face as well.

Hongjoong blinked in surprise as he took the box, lifting it gently and peeling back the wrapping. It was a small, hand-painted mug with a simple design - stars and a moon. The kind of mug that felt like it belonged to a cozy winter morning, a mug that would hold the warmth of tea or cocoa on chilly days.

“This is for you, Uncle Hongjoong,” Hanbin said proudly, looking up at him with bright eyes. Yena added, almost quietly, “Thank you for always taking care of Mom and us.”

It was clear that Hongjoong was caught a little off guard. He hadn’t expected anything, and the unexpected kindness from your kids left him momentarily speechless. It was clear that, while they hadn’t yet made a full leap into calling him “Dad,” they had built a bond so much deeper - something that felt like a real family, even if it wasn't your stereotypical one.

Hongjoong took the mug from Hanbin, and embraced both Minseo and Hanbin in a long hug. “Thank you, both of you,” he said. “This means a lot to me.” He looked at you for a moment, his expression tender, before continuing. “You guys are so special to me.”

Yena stood off to the side, quietly watching the exchange between Hongjoong and her new siblings. Her hands were clasped together, fingers wringing nervously as she looked down at the floor for a moment. But as Hongjoong and your kids still continued to talk quietly, she stepped forward, holding something small and neatly wrapped in her hands.

You noticed her then, the soft hesitation in her movements, the way she was trying to come put of her shell. With a gentle smile, you beckoned her closer. "What do you have there, Yena?" you asked.

Yena hesitated, her gaze flicking between you and the others before she stepped forward, placing the small gift in your hands. "I... I wanted to give this to you," she murmured, her voice soft, almost as if she was unsure of your reaction.

You smiled, genuinely touched by her effort, and carefully peeled away the wrapping. Inside was a small, handmade bracelet - delicate and simple, with a charm that resembled a heart and stars hanging from it. It was something you could tell Yena had put a lot of time into making, something personal that she was choosing to give to you.

"It's beautiful, Yena," you said, your heart swelling with affection as you gently took her hand in yours, running your fingers over the bracelet. "Thank you."

Yena's cheeks flushed a little at your words, but there was a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. She looked down at her feet for a moment before her voice broke through the silence once again, this time quieter than before. "I know I don't call you Mom," she started, her words carefully chosen. "And I don't know if I ever will. But I... I want you to know that I'm really happy you're here with us. And that you make Dad happy." She paused, then added, her voice just barely above a whisper, "I love you."

You reached out, pulling her into a hug. Tears prickled in the corner of your eyes, but you blinked them away, a huge smile stealing itself on your lips. Your heart was so full of love it hurt, because you had no idea what to do with so much happiness. 

"I love you too, Yena," you whispered. "And I'm so grateful that we're all together. We may not have started out the way others would have, but this... this is our family now."

You felt her arms tentatively wrap around you, her body slightly stiff at first, but she didn’t pull away. 

Yena stayed in your embrace for a moment longer, her body relaxing into yours as you stood into your living room. You pulled back, smiling at the way she held onto you.

You caught Hongjoong standing nearby, watching the two of you with a fond smile.

“I’m so happy right now,” you whispered, your heart full of emotion as you looked around at the children. “This feels perfect.”

Hongjoong took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It is," he agreed quietly.

"Come on, let's get a family photo!" Minseo called from the couch, her phone already in hand. Hongjoong, still holding the mug from Hanbin, stood beside you, his arms sliding around your waist. Hanbin jumped up, his little hands tugging at Yena’s sleeve as he excitedly pulled her to the center, his energy contagious. The kids huddled close, everyone laughing and joking as they found their places for the picture.

Minseo stepped forward, positioning herself just behind Hanbin, her phone held high to capture the moment. Hongjoong's arms were firmly around your waist as he stood beside you, his eyes never leaving you, and your heart fluttered at his eyes so full of love

Minseo grinned from behind her phone, adjusting the camera. “Okay, okay, everyone! Say cheese!”

Before anyone could respond, Hongjoong leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The photo snapped just at that moment, and the last thing you heard was Hanbin’s “Ugh, not again!” as you smiled at the man you thought you’d never end up with, feeling a sense of peace settle over you – like you’d finally found what you didn’t even know you were looking for in the arms of someone who had always been a part of your life, yet somehow, never felt right until now.