#I hope you enjoy the chapter! thank you for reading!!

[seospicybin]

THE BABYSITTER.

FINAL PART.

Hyunjin x reader x Felix. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part I / Part II

Synopsis: You find a home away from home while caring for Aster, the lively son of Felix and Hyunjin and what begins as a temporary job blossoms into an unforgettable bond with a family that changes your life. But after graduation comes a difficult choice: pursue your dreams or stay with the people who’ve come to mean the world to you. (21,3k words)

Author's note: Apologize for the slight delay but here it is. Hope you enjoy it and don't hesitate to share your thoughts after reading it ♡

The living room is quiet now, except for the faint hum of the baby monitor perched on the coffee table. Aster fell asleep hours ago, his soft, even breaths a comforting rhythm you’ve grown used to hearing over the past year. You sit on the couch, knees tucked to your chest, staring out the window at the city lights twinkling in the distance. 

The weight of your decision hangs in the air like a storm cloud, refusing to dissipate. 

This place has become more than just a job. It’s a home away from home, filled with laughter, warmth, and love. Hyunjin and Felix have never treated you like an employee—they’ve made you feel like family, like you truly belong. And Aster… Aster stole your heart from the very first moment he wrapped his tiny hand around your finger. 

A faint smile tugs at your lips as you remember that moment. Aster’s first steps had been toward you, wobbling on chubby legs before falling into your arms. Hyunjin had caught it on video, and Felix’s cheers echoed in the background. The way they’d thanked you that night had left you speechless, their gratitude so genuine and overwhelming. 

Now, your degree hangs on the wall in your tiny apartment, a constant reminder of the future waiting for you. A full-time position at a company you worked so hard to impress—a chance to finally step into the life you’ve been working toward. 

So why does leaving this family feel like the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do? 

Your phone buzzes on the cushion beside you, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s a text from Felix: 

"Thank you for today. Aster adores you so much he sleep talk about you in his sleep. Sleep well!"

Your chest tightens as you read the message. It’s such a simple sentiment, but it carries so much weight. Will they send messages like this after you leave? Will Aster even remember you in a few months? 

You set the phone down and exhale slowly. Tomorrow is another day, another chance to savor these moments before you have to say goodbye. 

-

The restaurant is warm and bustling, with the hum of conversation filling the air. Felix watches Aster in his high chair, the toddler happily munching on tiny pieces of fruit while Hyunjin sips his coffee. They’ve always enjoyed these little outings—moments where they can just exist as a family, away from schedules and responsibilities. 

Felix reaches across the table to steal a fry from Hyunjin’s plate, grinning when Hyunjin playfully swats his hand away. Their quiet moment is interrupted by a cheerful voice. 

“Hyunjin! Oh my gosh, I thought that was you!” 

Felix looks up to see a woman approaching their table, her smile wide as she stops beside Hyunjin. Hyunjin’s face lights up with recognition. 

“Hey! It’s been a while,” he says warmly, standing to greet her. 

Felix immediately takes note of how she leans in, her body language overly friendly, her hand brushing Hyunjin’s arm as they exchange pleasantries. Felix sits a little straighter, glancing at Aster, who’s obliviously chewing on a cracker. 

Hyunjin gestures toward the table. “This is my husband, Felix, and our son, Aster.” 

The woman’s smile flickers briefly in Felix’s direction. “Oh, nice to meet you,” she says, her tone polite but lacking warmth. Her attention snaps back to Hyunjin almost immediately. “I had no idea you had a family now! That’s amazing. So, what have you been up to?” 

Felix bites back a sigh as she dives into conversation with Hyunjin, asking about work and reminiscing about projects they’d worked on together. Her hand lands on Hyunjin’s shoulder at one point, and Felix watches as she lightly massages it while laughing at something Hyunjin says. 

The knot in Felix’s chest tightens. 

As the conversation continues, Felix clears his throat. “Who’s your friend, Hyunjin?” His tone is calm, but there’s a sharp edge beneath the surface. 

Hyunjin glances at him, sensing the underlying tension. “Oh, sorry! Felix, this is Soojin. We used to work together back when I was at the agency. Soojin, this is my husband, Felix.” He emphasizes the word husband a little more this time. 

Soojin barely acknowledges Felix, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hyunjin was always the best at the agency,” she gushes, completely ignoring Felix’s presence. 

Felix’s jaw tightens as he looks down at his plate, his appetite fading. 

Aster suddenly reaches for Hyunjin, babbling for attention. Hyunjin smiles, picking him up from the high chair and placing him on his lap. “Looks like someone’s done with lunch,” Hyunjin says cheerfully. He glances at Soojin. “It was nice catching up, but I think we’re going to head out now. Take care, Soojin.” 

She seems surprised by the abrupt end to the conversation but quickly recovers, flashing him another bright smile. “Of course! Let’s catch up again soon!” 

Felix doesn’t say a word as they leave the restaurant, but the car ride home is heavy with unspoken tension. 

- 

The car ride home is quiet. Aster has fallen asleep in the car seat, his soft snores filling the silence. Hyunjin glances at Felix, who stares out the window, his expression unreadable.  Hyunjin doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong. He knows. 

After they get home and tuck Aster into his crib, Hyunjin finds Felix in the kitchen. He’s rinsing off dishes, his movements more methodical than usual. 

Hyunjin steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Felix stiffens slightly under his touch. 

“Felix,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice teasing. “You’re mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” Felix says curtly, but the tightness in his voice gives him away. 

Hyunjin tightens his hold, pressing a soft kiss to Felix’s neck. “You’re jealous. It’s cute.” 

Felix scoffs, trying to pull away, but Hyunjin refuses to let him go. “Don’t do that,” Felix mutters. 

“Don’t do what?” Hyunjin asks innocently, trailing kisses along Felix’s jawline. 

Felix exhales sharply, clearly trying to stay annoyed, but Hyunjin knows him too well. “She touched you,” Felix finally admits, his voice quieter now. 

Hyunjin turns Felix around to face him, cupping his cheeks in his hands. “But we're married and you're my beautiful husband. You know that, right?” 

Felix doesn’t answer, his lips pressed into a stubborn line. Hyunjin leans in, kissing him softly, and Felix’s resolve starts to crumble. 

“And I love you,” Hyunjin seductively whispers against his lips, pulling him closer. 

Felix sighs, finally wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s neck. “You’re annoying,” he mumbles, but his lips curve into a smile as Hyunjin kisses him again, deeper this time. 

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looks at him. “You should’ve seen yourself earlier. Your pout, the way you kept glaring—it was adorable.”

Felix narrows his eyes at him, his cheeks flushing. “Don’t push it.”

Hyunjin laughs, resting his forehead against Felix’s. “What? I mean it. You were so cute I almost wanted to make her stay longer just to see you pout more.”

Felix smacks his chest lightly, though his lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” Hyunjin says, grinning as he swoops in for another kiss. Felix finally gives in, melting against him, and Hyunjin feels a spark of triumph.

Hyunjin rests his forehead against Felix’s, a tender smile gracing his lips and then presses a soft, lingering kiss that melts all of Felix’s doubts away. For a moment, the rest of the world fades, leaving only the two of them in their shared space.

Five years of marriage and those are the best five years of Hyunjin’s life. He doesn’t care who he runs into or who tries to catch his attention. Nothing compares to what they have built together. Felix and his son, Aster are everything to him. They're his world.

-

The front door creaks open, and you step into the warm familiarity of Hyunjin and Felix’s home. Normally, your weekends are free now that you’ve graduated, but tonight’s an exception. Hyunjin had called you earlier in the week, his voice a mix of charm and desperation, asking if you could watch Aster while they attended a party. 

“It’s not like we get out much these days,” he’d joked, and of course, you couldn’t say no. 

As you set your bag down near the entryway, you hear muffled voices and the faint sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. You make your way toward it, expecting to find Hyunjin or Felix prepping Aster’s dinner—or maybe tidying up the chaos their energetic toddler tends to leave in his wake. 

What you don’t expect is to walk in on Hyunjin and Felix locked in a heated kiss, Hyunjin’s arms wrapped tightly around Felix’s waist, and Felix leaning into him as if he’s finally given up on staying mad. 

“Whoa!” you exclaim, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Should I come back in half an hour?” 

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his lips still dangerously close to Felix’s, and grins. “We can make it twenty minutes if you’re in a rush.” 

“Hyunjin!” Felix hisses, his face turning bright red as he tries to step away, but Hyunjin refuses to let him go. 

You laugh, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorframe. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m just here for Aster, not the drama.” 

Felix finally wiggles free, shooting Hyunjin a glare that lacks any real heat. “Aster is napping,” Felix says quickly, smoothing down his shirt as if that’ll erase what you just walked in on. 

“Well, I'll just... go check on him,” you say, still chuckling as you make your way upstairs.

Behind you, you hear Hyunjin teasing Felix in a low voice. “You’re blushing. It’s adorable.” 

“Shut up, Hyunjin.” 

The soft, familiar sound of their banter follows you up the stairs, and you can’t help but smile. They’re a reminder of what a strong, loving partnership looks like—a dynamic that makes their home feel like a haven. 

Before you turn towards Aster’s room, you can’t help but glance back toward the kitchen, hearing Felix’s deep laughter echo faintly. The warmth of their family tugs at something deep inside you, making the decision you’ve been wrestling with feel even heavier. 

-

The sound of soft giggles and playful chatter echoes down the hallway as Hyunjin walking down the stairs while carrying Aster in his arms and Felix is trailing behind them, fixing the collar of his shirt.

From the kitchen, you glance over, a small smile tugging at your lips. Dinner for Aster is nearly ready as Felix has cooked it and all you have to do is reheating it in the oven. After setting the time on the oven, you wipe your hands on a towel as you make your way toward the front door.

Hyunjin and Felix are both kneeling in front of Aster, their expressions soft and adoring as they take turns pressing kisses to his cheeks. Mandu appears from behind you, not wanting to miss out on it.

“Are you sure you two are going to the party and not just staying here to kiss your son all night?” you tease, crossing your arms. 

Felix looks up at you with a playful smile. “We’d probably have more fun here, honestly.” 

Hyunjin grins, standing up after giving Mandu a quick pet and brushes his pants. “But we already RSVP’d, and Felix spent an hour convincing me to dress up, so…” 

Felix rolls his eyes then reaches for Hyunjin’s jacket to adjust it. “Oh, please. You looked for an excuse to try on five outfits before deciding.” 

You laugh, picking up Aster, who reaches for you with a delighted squeal. “Just go and have fun, you two. You deserve a night out.” 

Felix steps closer, his eyes softening. “Thank you for this, Bubba.” 

“No problem,” you say, balancing Aster on your hip. “We’ve got a big night planned, don’t we, Aster? Dinner, storytime, and maybe a movie if he doesn’t fall asleep halfway through it.” 

“Movie!” Aster cheers, clapping his hands. 

Hyunjin chuckles, ruffling his son’s hair. “Alright. You listen to Bubba, okay? Be good.” 

“Mmhmm,” Aster promises with an eager nod. 

The four of you move to the front door, where Hyunjin and Felix slip on their coats. Felix leans in one last time to kiss Aster’s forehead, his voice tender as he murmurs, “Goodnight, sweet baby. Dada will be back soon.” 

Hyunjin, standing by the door, gives you a pointed look. “Text us if anything happens, okay? We’ll keep our phones on.” 

You wave him off with a smile and assure him. “Relax, Hyunjin. We’ll be fine.” 

As Hyunjin opens the door, Felix turns to you with a small smile and gives you a last warning. “Don’t stay up late, you two!” 

You exchange a playful look with Aster and grin. “Just go. The party’s not going to wait forever.” You say, playfully hurrying them out of the door.

Hyunjin gives Aster one last wave before stepping out, Felix following close behind. As they make their way down the driveway, you and Aster stand in the doorway, waving until they disappear into the night. 

“Buhbye!” Aster calls, his tiny hand flapping enthusiastically. “Bye! Have fun!” you add, watching until the tail lights of their car fade away. 

As the quiet of the evening settles in, you close the door, turning back to the kitchen with Aster still on your hip. “Alright, monster Aster. Let’s finish getting your dinner ready.” 

Aster claps his hands again in excitement. “Dinner!” 

-

The living room is cozy, lit only by the glow of the TV screen. Aster is nestled beside you on the couch, his small frame tucked under a blanket as his eyes stay glued to the animated animals dancing across the screen. He’s holding his favorite plush bunny close, his fingers absently stroking its worn ears.

You glance at him, your heart warming at how engrossed he looks, his little mouth hanging open slightly in concentration. “You like the movie, Aster?” 

“Mmhmm,” he hums, nodding without taking his eyes off the screen. 

You smile, leaning back against the couch. Nights like this make everything feel simple, even if your thoughts keep drifting to the future—to the choices you’re avoiding making. 

As the movie continues, you notice Aster’s head starting to droop. His blinks grow slower, his grip on the bunny loosening. By the time the characters on screen are singing their big finale, his head is lolling onto your arm, his eyes barely open. 

“Sleepy, huh?” you whisper, gently sliding your arm under him to scoop him up. “Alright, then. Time for bed.” 

Aster stirs slightly but doesn’t protest, his head resting on your shoulder as you carry him to his room. The soft hum of the baby monitor sits on the bedside table, the glow of its light illuminating the room. You lower him onto his small bed, carefully tucking the blanket around him. 

As you smooth the hair from his forehead, you murmur, “Goodnight, Aster. I love you.” 

Aster’s eyes flutter open briefly, his sleepy voice piping up. “Thank you.” 

You laugh softly, crouching down beside him while continue gently brushing his hair. “That’s sweet, but when someone says ‘I love you,’ you’re supposed to say ‘I love you’ back.” 

He looks at you with his big, tired eyes, clearly not understanding. “Thank you,” he says again, his voice barely audible. 

You shake your head fondly and hold your chuckles in, brushing a hand through his soft curls, then hold it there. “You’re so special, you know that? You’re so, so special to me, Aster. I hope you always know that.” 

He yawns, turning his face into the pillow, clutching his bunny tighter. He obviously is too sleepy to respond to you.

Leaning down, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and then mutter, “Goodnight, sweet Aster.” 

You straighten up, watching him for a moment longer as his breathing evens out. Aster is already fast asleep, the innocence of childhood reflected in the peacefulness of his expression. 

As you quietly step out of the room, you pause at the doorway to glance back. Something about the scene makes your chest ache—a bittersweet kind of warmth you don’t want to let go of.

After a while, you close the door softly behind you, the weight of your looming decision settling over you once again. 

- 

The house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath your feet. You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing it’s still a while before Hyunjin and Felix are expected home. 

The peacefulness of the evening settles around you, but your thoughts are restless. Trying to distract yourself, you find your eyes wandering toward the small drawer in the living room. You know what’s inside—it’s something you’ve peeked at a few times before, something that always brings a smile to your face. 

With a gentle tug, you slide the drawer open and pull out the family photo album, its worn cover a testament to the love poured into it. Felix is meticulous when it comes to documenting memories, and the album is proof of that. 

You settle onto the couch, flipping open the cover. The first pages hold moments from before Aster was born: candid pictures of Hyunjin and Felix in their early dating days, a snapshot of Felix laughing with a coffee cup in hand while Hyunjin sneaks a kiss on his cheek, and another of them on a trip abroad, their faces glowing with happiness. 

The pages gradually transition into their married life—a photo of their small wedding ceremony, Felix holding Hyunjin’s hand with an expression of quiet joy. Then come the pictures of Aster: his first moments, his first steps, his first birthday. 

You smile softly, flipping through the familiar pages. It’s a scrapbook of love, warmth, and growth. But as you near the end, you notice something new—pictures you don’t remember being there before. 

The first one catches your eye immediately. It’s from Aster’s birthday last month, a candid shot of you sitting on the floor with Aster on your lap. He’s laughing, frosting smeared across his face, while you’re mid-laugh, trying to wipe his cheek with a napkin. You feel your chest tighten at the sight. 

The next picture stops you entirely. It’s the four of you, taken on your graduation day. Hyunjin is holding Aster in one arm while Felix has his arm slung over your shoulder. You’re all smiling at the camera, the happiness in the moment radiating from the photo. 

Your fingers brush over the image, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. You’ve always known that Hyunjin and Felix treated you like family, but seeing it immortalized like this—captured and preserved in the same album as their most cherished memories—it feels overwhelming. 

You lean back into the couch, the album resting on your lap. The joy of being part of this family and the sadness of knowing you’ll soon have to leave coexist in a way that makes your heart ache. 

A small smile plays on your lips as you close the album and carefully return it to the drawer. You’ve always known that this place—these people—meant so much to you. But seeing these pictures is a reminder of just how deeply you’ve become intertwined with their lives, and how hard it will be to say goodbye. 

-

The soft click of the front door opening pulls your attention from the quiet hum of the living room. You turn your head to see Hyunjin and Felix step inside, Felix slipping off his shoes with practiced ease while Hyunjin gently shrugs off his coat. 

“Hey,” you softly greet, standing up from the couch. “How was the party?” 

Felix smiles, looking a little tired but content. “It was nice. Good food, good company. But I think we both missed Aster more than anything.” 

Hyunjin chuckles as he drapes his coat over the arm of a chair and looks at you. “Felix spent half the night showing pictures of him to anyone who would look.” 

Felix rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. “You’re one to talk. You spent twenty minutes describing how Aster says ‘goodnight’ in his little sleepy voice.” 

“Well, your son is adorable, so I can’t blame you,” you say with a soft laugh and then pick up your phone from the coffee table. “Anyway, I should get going. Aster’s asleep, and everything’s all tidied up.” 

Hyunjin steps forward, raising a hand in protest. “It’s late. I’ll give you a ride home.” 

You sling your bag over your shoulder, shaking your head with a teasing smile. “Are you even sober enough to drive, Hyunjin? Should I be worried?” 

Hyunjin scoffs in disbelief and as he looks at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, you doubt me? Fine. Sobriety test. Let’s go.” 

Felix sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter with a tired smile and a glass of water in one hand. “Here we go.” 

Hyunjin dramatically stands up straight, lifting one leg and holding out his arms like he’s about to perform a circus act. “See this balance? Flawless.” 

You cross your arms, trying to stifle a laugh. “Very impressive. What’s next?” 

Hyunjin points to his nose and taps it with exaggerated precision. “Coordination? Check.” He spins in a circle, narrowly avoiding tripping over his own feet but recovering with flair. “I’m basically the gold standard of sober drivers.” 

Felix snickers from the kitchen and jokingly mutters, “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously sober,” Hyunjin counters, turning back to you with a triumphant grin. “So, can I drive you home now?” 

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing. “Fine, fine. You win. Goodnight, Felix.” 

Felix steps closer, giving you a warm smile. “Goodnight. Thanks you for today!” 

“No problem. He was an angel as always.” 

You step outside with Hyunjin, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you walk to the car. Once inside, the quiet hum of the engine fills the space as Hyunjin starts driving through the dimly lit streets. 

For a while, neither of you speak, the silence comfortable. Then Hyunjin clears his throat, glancing at you briefly. “So… The TV station is looking for a set designer. I think you’d be amazing at it.” 

You glance over at him, surprised. “Set designer?” 

“Yeah,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. “It’s a good position. Stable hours, good pay. And it’s local, so you wouldn’t have to move away.” 

You chew on your lip, his words stirring the familiar ache of indecision. “That’s… really thoughtful, Hyunjin. Thank you. I’ll think about it.” 

He nods, his tone casual but his concern evident. “Just don’t rush into anything, okay? You’ve got people here who care about you.” 

You look out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks as the car moves through the streets. “I know,” you say softly. 

When the car pulls up in front of your building, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to him with a small smile. “Thanks for the ride, Hyunjin. And for… everything.” 

He offers a warm smile in return. “Anytime. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you say before stepping out of the car. 

As you walk toward your door, you glance back to see Hyunjin waiting until you’re safely inside. You give him a small wave, which he returns before driving off into the night. 

-

For these past couple of moments, Aster has been obsessed with tee ball and it shows. The moment breakfast is over, he drags the small set from the corner of the living room out onto the front yard. You follow him, holding his tiny bat as he hurries you to come along.

“Come on, Bubba. Let's play!”

You set the tee in place and placing the ball on top, looking at him as you say, “Okay. Show me what you’ve got.” 

Aster puffs out his chest proudly, gripping the bat with a determination that makes you smile. He takes his stance, wiggles a bit for balance, and then swings with all his might. The ball sails a few feet before rolling into the grass and Mandu eagerly chases after it.

“I hit it! Did you see?” he shouts, spinning around to face you with wide eyes. 

“I saw! That was amazing!” you cheer, clapping your hands. 

This becomes the rhythm of the morning. Aster adjusts the ball, calls for your attention, and swings, whether the bat connects or not. You cheer for every attempt, your laughter mingling with his giggles. 

“Aster, slow down or you’re going to tire yourself out,” you call after his fifth enthusiastic swing. 

“I don’t want to slow down!” he replies, his voice full of childish defiance as he sets up the ball again. 

“Hey, future MVP,” a familiar voice calls from across the street. 

You glance up to see Jeongin crossing the road, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He grins as he approaches, nodding toward Aster.

“Aster’s got a good arm.” 

“He’s been practicing nonstop,” you say, scooting over on the grass to make room for him to sit. 

Jeongin plops down beside you, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Good morning to you, too,” he teases. 

You softly laugh as you glance at him. “Morning, Jeongin.” 

He leans back on his hands, glancing at Aster as the little boy prepares for another swing. “So I... I wanted to see if you’d like to come to a party tomorrow night. Just a small thing with a few of my friends.” 

Before you can answer, Aster’s voice cuts through the conversation, demanding for your attention. “Bubba, watch me! Watch me!” 

You immediately turn your attention to him as he swings again, missing the ball entirely. 

“Almost! Try again,” you encourage, smiling as Aster stubbornly resets the ball. 

Jeongin chuckles, waiting for a break in Aster’s demands before continue talking. “Anyway, no pressure, but it could be fun. Food, drinks, some music. What do you think?” 

“Hold on,” you mutter as Aster calls out for you to watch again. He swings and connects this time, the ball rolling a bit farther than before. 

“Nice one, Aster!” you cheer, clapping as he does a little victory dance. 

Jeongin leans closer to your side, smirking. “You’re really good at multitasking, you know that?” 

You snort, finally turning back to him. “Okay, fine. I’ll go. Just let me know what time.” 

“Great!” He says, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. “You won’t regret it. I promise.” 

“You'd better keep your words then,” You say with a sly smile and playfully bump his shoulder with yours.

A smile rises on Jeongin’s face and the dimples sunken deep into his cheeks. He holds your gaze for a bit before looking away. “Aster, can I try?” 

Aster looks at him in confusion then lets go of the bat. “Okay.” 

Jeongin gets up from the grass as Aster walks up to you, you immediately offer him his water tumbler. The two of you watch as Jeongin takes the bat, adjusts the tee, and lines up his swing like a pro. The moment he swings, the bat misses entirely, slicing through the air. The ball doesn’t budge. 

Aster breaks into laughter, spilling some water out of his mouth. “You’re terrible!” 

“Hey, no need to be mean,” Jeongin says, pretending to be offended. He tries again, with the same result. Aster doubles over in laughter, his joy infectious. 

You can’t help but laugh along, shaking your head at Jeongin’s poor attempt. “Maybe stick to being a spectator,” you tease. 

Jeongin hands the bat back to Aster with a sheepish grin. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave it to the experts.” 

Aster beams, holding the bat like it’s a trophy. “I’m the best!” “You definitely are,” Jeongin agrees, ruffling Aster’s hair before sitting back down beside you. 

As Aster returns to his game, you glance over at Jeongin, his smile easy and warm. For a moment, you’re reminded of how nice it is to have moments like this—simple and carefree.

“I'll see you tomorrow night then,” He says while brushing the back of his jeans.

“You gave up on tee ball already?” You joke, flashing a sly smile at him.

“I don’t want to keep embarrassing myself in front of you,” He says with a shy smile and a subtle shrug, the dimples appearing again.

You smile at that and nod, “Okay. See you tomorrow night.” 

After a few more rounds of tee ball, Aster finally starts to tire. His swings lose their usual gusto, and he yawns while dragging his little bat behind him. 

“Enough for today. Let’s head inside,” you say, gathering the tee and ball. “You need a snack after all that hard work.” 

Aster nods, rubbing his eyes as he follows you back into the house. The warm aroma of something sweet greets you as you step inside, and you hear Felix humming in the kitchen. 

“Perfect timing!” Felix says, turning from the counter with a proud smile. “Key lime pie, fresh out of the oven.” 

“Pie!” Aster exclaims, suddenly re-energized. He races to the dining table and climbs into his seat, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. 

Felix laughs, slicing a piece and placing it on a plate for you. “This one’s for you. Tell me if it’s as good as last time.” 

“Better not disappoint,” you tease, accepting the plate and taking a seat beside Aster. The first bite melts in your mouth, tangy and sweet with just the right amount of tartness. 

“It’s perfect, Felix,” you say, savoring another forkful. 

Felix beams, pulling up a chair with his own slice. “Glad to hear it.” 

As Aster munches on some fruits and cheese next to you, Felix leans forward, his expression turning curious. “By the way, I saw Jeongin earlier.” 

You glance up from your pie. “Yeah. He came by while we were outside playing tee ball.” 

Felix’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “And? What did he want?” 

You take another bite, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “He invited me to a party tomorrow night. I said yes.” 

Felix’s brows lift slightly, and a playful smile tugs at his lips. “A party, huh? Jeongin doesn’t waste time, does he?” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends. I promise.” 

Felix leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as if assessing your words. “Just friends?” 

“Just friends,” you assure him, setting down your fork. “I decided it’s best that way since I'll be leaving soon. No point in starting something I can’t commit to.” 

Felix studies you for a moment, then nods, his expression softening. “Fair enough. Jeongin’s a good kid, but still.” 

You smile, touched by his concern. “So, is it alright if I leave a little early tomorrow for the party?” 

“Of course,” Felix says, waving off the question like it’s nothing. “We’ll manage just fine. But promise me you’ll let loose a little and have fun.” 

“I will,” you reply, finishing the last bite of your pie. 

- 

Felix lies on his side, staring at the faint shadows dancing on the bedroom wall. The house is quiet now, save for the soft rustle of sheets as Hyunjin turns to face him. Felix feels Hyunjin’s arm drape over his waist, pulling him closer. 

Hyunjin places a soft kiss on his neck and with his voice low and laced with concern, he asks, “What’s on your mind?” 

Felix exhales, his gaze still fixed ahead but his hand reaches for Hyunjin’s. “I talked to her earlier. She said Jeongin invited her to a party, and she’s going.” 

“Jeongin? The neighbor across the street?” Hyunjin asks, propping himself up on one elbow. “What’s wrong with that? She deserves some fun.” 

Felix shakes his head. “It’s not the party. It’s... what she said after.” 

Hyunjin stays quiet and stares at Felix as he's waiting for him to continue. 

“She said she’s leaving soon. It just... hit me again. She’s really going,” Felix says, his voice softening as the weight of his thoughts presses down on him. “I keep thinking about how we’ll manage without her.” 

Hyunjin’s arms tighten around him, his warmth grounding Felix as he speaks. “I know. It’s hard to imagine her not being here.” 

Felix’s mind drifts to moments that made you irreplaceable: the nights you stayed late to comfort a teething Aster when Felix and Hyunjin were too exhausted to move; the mornings you showed up early with fresh coffee and a bright smile; the way you knew exactly how to calm Aster’s tantrums, even when Felix couldn’t. 

“She’s done so much for us,” Felix murmurs as he squeezes Hyunjin’s hand. “It’s not just about the babysitting. She cares about Aster, about us, like we’re her own family. How do we replace that?” 

Hyunjin runs a hand gently through Felix’s hair and places a soft kiss after. “We don’t. And we shouldn’t try to.” 

“I know,” Felix says, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s why it’s so hard to let her go. Aster’s going to notice she’s not around. He’s so attached to her.” 

Hyunjin presses a kiss to the back of Felix’s head as a way to comfort him. “We’ll get through it, together. And we’ll make sure Aster knows she still loves him, even if she’s not here every day.” 

Felix closes his eyes, swallowing hard. For a fleeting moment, he considers the possibility of asking you to stay—of offering something, anything, to keep you with them. But he knows it wouldn’t be fair. You have dreams, goals, and a life of your own waiting for you. 

“I thought about asking her to stay,” Felix admits after a long silence. “But I can’t. It’s not right to hold her back.” 

Hyunjin’s hand moves to Felix’s cheek, turning his face so their eyes meet. “You’re doing the right thing, baby. You’ve always been the one to put others before yourself. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.” 

Felix manages a small smile, his heart aching even as Hyunjin’s words bring him comfort. “I just hope she knows how much she means to us. To me.” 

“She does,” Hyunjin says firmly. “There’s no way she doesn’t.” 

Felix leans into Hyunjin’s touch, letting the quiet reassurance wash over him. He doesn’t have all the answers, but with Hyunjin by his side, he feels strong enough to face what’s coming.

-

The kitchen is alive with the warm hum of activity. Felix adjusts the camera one last time, ensuring the angle perfectly captures the countertop where Aster stands on a sturdy step stool. His son’s tiny hands grip the edge of the counter as he bounces on his toes, excitement bubbling over.

“You ready, Aster?” Felix asks, his signature bright smile lighting up his face.

“I'm so excited!” Aster chirps, clapping his hands together.

You’re stationed behind the main camera, already recording, as Felix presses the timer on his phone to keep track of the video. He turns to Aster, holding up the first bowl of ingredients.

“Alright, say hi to everyone, Aster,” Felix says, his tone encouraging.

Aster waves enthusiastically at the camera. “Hi! We’re making... spaghetti meatballs!” His pronunciation of “meatballs” comes out slightly jumbled, and Felix chuckles, ruffling his hair.

“That’s right, baby,” Felix says. “Now, let’s show everyone what we need.” He glances at you briefly to check if the filming is going smoothly.

“Perfect,” you mouth at him while giving a thumbs-up.

Aster carefully picks up a small bowl of breadcrumbs, holding it high for the camera. “This is crumbs!”

Felix gently takes the bowl and sets it on the counter. “Breadcrumbs, good job, Aster. And what’s this?” He holds up an egg.

“Eggie!” Aster says proudly.

“Very good,” Felix says, his voice warm and encouraging. He turns to the camera. “We’re starting with the meatballs today. I’ve already prepped everything, so Aster just has to help me mix it all together.”

He grabs a large mixing bowl, placing it in front of Aster. Felix pours in the ground beef and hands Aster the bowl of breadcrumbs. “Okay, dump that in.”

Aster carefully tips the bowl, his little tongue poking out in concentration as he watches the breadcrumbs scatter over the meat.

Aster triumphantly claps his tiny hands. “I did it, dada!”

With a proud smile, Felix cheers him on. “Perfect! You’re a natural, Aster.”

One by one, Felix helps Aster add the egg, Parmesan cheese, minced garlic, and seasoning to the bowl. The boy’s tiny hands eagerly stir the mixture with a wooden spoon, though it’s clear the effort is a bit much for him.

“Need some help?” Felix asks, stepping in to guide Aster’s hands as they mix together. “There you go. Good job, baby!”

Aster grins up at him. “I’m doing it, Daddy!”

“You are,” Felix says, his heart swelling at the sight of his son’s joy.

You can’t help but laugh softly from behind the camera. “He’s a little chef in the making.”

Felix glances your way, catching your smile, and feels a rush of gratitude for moments like this. “He’s the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

The rest of the process is filled with Aster’s excited commentary as Felix shapes the meatballs and lines them on a baking tray. Once they’re in the oven, Felix shifts the focus to prepping the pasta, showing Aster how to carefully measure the noodles and explaining how they’ll boil them soon.

“Okay, Aster, what do we say to everyone watching at home?” Felix asks as they wrap up the video.

“Thank you for watching!” Aster says, waving at the camera again.

“And don’t forget to—” Felix prompts.

“Like and ’scribe!” Aster finishes with a giggle.

Felix scoops him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the camera clicks off. “That’s my baby.”

You lower the camera and grin. “This is going to be everyone’s new favorite video of you two.”

Felix chuckles, setting Aster down and watching as he runs off, already proclaiming he’s going to Hyunjin about the spaghetti meatballs.

The kitchen is finally quiet after the filming chaos, though the warm, lingering scent of baked meatballs fills the air. Felix is wiping down the counter as you approach him, still holding the camera.

“Alright, I think we're all set,” you say, carefully placing the camera on the counter. “Thanks for letting me leave early today.”

Felix looks up with a grin, his usual playful glint in his eyes. “No problem. You deserve a little fun. Just don’t forget—safe sex is key.”

You roll your eyes, groaning. “Felix, I swear—”

“Hey, it’s my duty as the responsible adult here,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender.

You shake your head, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

As you turn to grab your bag, Aster bounds into the room, still brimming with energy despite the day’s excitement. “Where you going, Bubba?” he asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You crouch down to his level, ruffling his hair. “Sorry, Aster but Bubba has to go now, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Aster nods, wrapping his small arms around your neck. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye-bye, Monster Aster,” you say softly, giving him a quick hug before surprise him with a tickle on his belly.

Felix steps closer and then crosses his arms in front of him. “And no hug for me?” he asks, mock-pouting.

With a laugh, you roll your eyes again but step forward to give him a quick hug. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Felix replies, his grin widening. As you pull away, he leans in conspiratorially. “Need me to grab you some extra condoms before you go?”

You groan loudly this time, throwing your head back. “Felix!” He bursts out laughing and Aster, despite not understanding the joke, also laughing. Felix waves a hand dismissively and says, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But seriously, have fun, okay?”

You grab your bag and head for the door, looking back with a playful glare. “Thanks for the talk, Dad.”

Felix grins at you from the kitchen. “Don't drink and drive!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, stepping outside.

The door closes behind you, and Felix watches through the window as you walk down the path to the street. A faint breeze catches your hair, and you pull your bag higher on your shoulder. He doesn’t move until you’re out of sight, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest.

How many times had he watched you come and go, not thinking much of it? But now, each goodbye felt heavier, knowing soon it might be the last.

Felix takes a deep breath and turns back to the kitchen, but his movements are slower, weighed down by the thought of your absence.

“Why does it feel like we’re already saying goodbye?” he murmurs to himself, brushing a hand over the clean counter. -

The house is alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. It’s been ages since you’ve been to a party like this—too many nights spent in front of textbooks or rushing to meet deadlines. The atmosphere feels electric, the kind of energy that seeps into your veins and reminds you what it’s like to be young and carefree.

Jeongin is by your side, as he’s been all night, effortlessly charming everyone in his orbit. He’s the perfect guide through the chaos, introducing you to friends, making jokes, and ensuring your glass is never empty. He even dances with you in the living room when someone cranks up the music, spinning you around until you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

“See?” Jeongin says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music. “Told you this would be fun.”

“It is,” you admit, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “I think I forgot how to have fun for a while.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an expert at it,” he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling under the dim party lights.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in his expression makes your chest tighten just a little. You’ve told him countless times that you and he would never be more than friends, but Jeongin’s persistence is relentless tonight.

When the music slows down for a softer song, Jeongin pulls you toward the couch, where the two of you sink into the plush cushions. He drapes an arm across the backrest, his body angled toward you.

“You know,” he begins, his voice quieter now, almost drowned out by the distant chatter, “you work too hard. Someone needs to remind you to enjoy life.”

“I enjoy life just fine,” you counter, giving him a pointed look. “Do you?” His gaze flickers over you, lingering just long enough to make you feel self-conscious. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you spend too much time worrying about everyone else and not enough time letting loose.”

“Jeongin…” you sigh, trying to keep your tone firm. “We’ve talked about this.”

“We have,” he agrees, nodding. “But you’re here now, and I’m just saying… what’s the harm in enjoying the moment?”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can, he leans in a little closer. “You deserve someone who makes you feel alive,” he murmurs.

The intensity in his eyes catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. You’ve been so focused on your responsibilities, your future, and your goodbyes that you hadn’t let yourself feel anything else. But now, with Jeongin so close, his words tugging at something deep inside you, the temptation becomes harder to ignore.

“Jeongin,” you whisper, unsure whether it’s meant to be a protest or an invitation.

He takes it as the latter. Before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours, tentative but insistent. For a moment, you freeze. This is wrong, isn’t it? You’ve told him before, so many times… But then your resolve melts under the warmth of his kiss, and all the weight you’ve been carrying slips away, just for a little while.

You kiss him back.

The noise of the party fades, leaving only the rush of blood in your ears and the faint hum of Jeongin’s voice when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours.

“See?” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours. “Feels good to let go, doesn’t it?”

You don’t answer, your heart racing too fast to think straight. For once, you let the moment speak for itself and kiss him again.

-

Hyunjin steps into the house, greeted by the inviting aroma of garlic and tomatoes. Dinner is already set on the table, the soft hum of Felix’s playlist playing in the background. He smiles as he walks into the kitchen, spotting Felix tidying up the counter.

Seeing Hyunjin, Mandu runs and starts circling around his feet, barking and asking to be pet. He crouches down to pick the fluffy dog in one arm and continues his walk to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Hyunjin greets, stepping closer. Felix turns around just in time to meet him, and Hyunjin leans in for a kiss.

“Dinner’s ready,” Felix says, his tone light but his smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes. Hyunjin notices, but he doesn’t press him yet.

He makes his way to the dining table, where Aster is already seated, practically face-first in his bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. The sauce is smeared across his cheeks, and Hyunjin chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his son’s head.

“Enjoying that, bub?” Hyunjin asks.

Aster looks up, grinning with his sauce-covered face. “Uh-huh. It's yummy!”

Hyunjin takes his seat across from Felix, who brings over a glass of water for him before sitting down. The dinner feels warm and familiar, but Hyunjin can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Felix is quiet—too quiet. He keeps fidgeting, his fingers playing with the edge of the tablecloth, his gaze distant even as he smiles at Aster’s antics.

After dinner, Felix takes Aster upstairs to put him to bed while Hyunjin stays behind, tidying up and preparing drinks for the two of them. He opts for martinis tonight—Felix’s favorite—and brings them to the living room.

When Felix comes down, he looks a little more at ease, but Hyunjin knows better. “Martini for my beautiful, hardworking husband.” He announces with a rather dramatic tone.

“Thank you, love.” Felix mutters his gratitude then sits next to him on the sofa, snuggling close as he takes his martini. Hyunjin wraps an arm around him, pulling him in and giving him the comfort he needs.

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks and enjoying the quiet. But Hyunjin can feel the weight of Felix’s thoughts pressing down on him, even without words.

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin asks gently, breaking the silence.

Felix looks up at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. He sighs, nodding. “Yeah. I can’t stop.”

Hyunjin leans his head against Felix’s, his voice soft but steady. “What’s worrying you the most?”

Felix hesitates, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Everything,” he admits. “How we’ll... How Aster will handle it. He’s so attached to her, Hyunjin. I don’t know how he’ll understand it when she’s gone.”

Hyunjin listens, his hand moving in soothing circles on Felix’s back. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

Felix leans into his touch, his voice quieter now. “I know that it's selfish, but part of me wants to ask her to stay.”

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, just enough to meet Felix’s gaze. “You know she’d do it if you asked,” he says carefully. “But would that really be fair to her?”

Felix shakes his head, a small, bitter laugh escaping him. “No. It wouldn’t.”

Hyunjin smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Felix’s temple. “Then maybe we should talk to her. All three of us. Have a dinner together, lay everything out. Let her know how much she means to us, but also let her make the choice that’s best for her.”

Felix considers this, his eyes searching Hyunjin’s for reassurance. Finally, he nods. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Hyunjin squeezes him gently, his voice warm and reassuring. “No matter what happens, it’s going to be alright. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.”

Felix exhales, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he leans into Hyunjin’s embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he looks at him, his eyes filled with fondness and gratitude.

Hyunjin smiles before placing a quick peck on Felix’s lips. “Always.”

-

The moment you both stumble into Jeongin’s house, his lips are on yours again before you can even think, his hands settling firmly on your waist as he pulls you closer. The warmth of his touch and the way he kisses you—like he’s been waiting for this moment forever—sends shivers down your spine.

It’s reckless, impulsive, completely unlike you. But that’s precisely why you don’t stop him. For once, you let yourself surrender to something without overanalyzing, and the sensation is intoxicating.

Jeongin tilts his head, deepening the kiss as his fingers trace lazy, intricate patterns along your sides. In the quiet dark of his room, it’s just the two of you, lost in this heated, stolen moment.

When your gaze briefly sweeps over him, the sight steals the air from your lungs. His toned frame, his muscles perfectly defined, seem almost divine—crafted as if by the hands of the Greek gods themselves.

But it’s his hands that undo you entirely. Big, calloused, and tireless, they roam your body as if he’s committing every inch of you to memory. His lips follow close behind, leaving a searing trail of kisses that make your skin burn with desire.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers against the curve of your neck before pressing a tender kiss there, his breath warm and tantalizing.

He’s everywhere, his touch, his mouth, his very presence enveloping you. His fingers slide between your thighs, skillfully finding their way inside you. He pumps them steadily, a rhythm that makes you squirm and writhe under him.

Between kisses along your inner thighs, Jeongin murmurs words like a prayer, sweet and reverent. “So wet. So tight.” His voice is low, almost worshipful, as he continues to draw every ounce of pleasure from you.

Jeongin’s words send a rush of heat through you, and your breath comes in shallow gasps as his fingers keep working their magic. His name slips from your lips like a plea, a sound that seems to spur him on. His eyes, dark and hungry, meet yours as he leans back up, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that feels equal parts tender and desperate.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough yet soothing, like velvet edged with steel.

Your hands find his shoulders, fingers curling against his warm skin as you pull him closer, letting your body speak where words fail. He seems to understand, shifting his weight to press himself against you, the heat and hardness of him sending another shiver down your spine.

Jeongin’s lips leave yours to travel down your neck, his kisses softer now, more deliberate as if savoring the taste of your skin. His free hand strokes your side, fingers ghosting over the curve of your hip before gripping your thigh to hitch your leg around his waist. The movement aligns your bodies perfectly, and a soft gasp escapes you at the sheer intimacy of it.

“You drive me crazy,” he breathes, his forehead resting against yours for a moment as if grounding himself. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin as he gazes down at you with an intensity that steals your breath.

You don’t get a chance to respond before his lips claim yours again, his movements growing bolder, more insistent. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a promise, unspoken but understood, and you can’t help but surrender completely to him.

Time seems to blur, the world outside his room fading away as Jeongin focuses solely on you—on unraveling you, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the two of you tangled together in the heat of the moment.

His name falls from your lips again, a soft cry that has him groaning in response, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of conviction. “I’ll take care of you.”

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his tone, settles over you like a warm embrace, leaving you feeling utterly seen and cherished. Whatever comes next, you know you’ll let him take you there, trusting him completely in this shared moment of passion and vulnerability.

Jeongin’s gasp of surprise turns into a low groan as you take control, shifting your positions until you’re straddling him. His hands instinctively find your hips, steadying you as you begin to move against him with purpose.

His fox-like eyes are locked on you, dark and filled with an intoxicating mix of admiration and desire. The way you command the moment has him utterly captivated, his lips parting slightly as he struggles to keep his composure. “Oh, you’re incredible,” he breathes, his voice rough with need.

You smirk down at him, rolling your hips in a way that pulls a guttural moan from his lips. His grip on your hips tightens, and the tension between you coils tighter with every deliberate movement. The way he watches you—eyes tracing every inch of your body, drinking in the sight of you—sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you.

The rhythm you set drives you both closer to the edge, his hands and lips occasionally breaking their reverence to guide or encourage you further. You lean forward, pressing your palms against his chest for balance, and the shift draws a new angle that makes Jeongin lose himself completely.

“Just like that,” he rasps, his voice shaking slightly. The sight of you, the feel of you, the sound of your breathless moans—it’s all too much.

Your shared high crashes over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and breathless. Jeongin’s grip on you tightens as he rides out the moment with you, his name tumbling from your lips in a soft, desperate cry.

When the pleasure finally subsides, you collapse against him, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. His fingers trace lazy, comforting circles on your back, grounding you both in the afterglow.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything, content to stay wrapped in each other’s warmth. When Jeongin finally gathers his senses, he tilts his head to look at you, his expression softer now, curiosity flickering in his gaze.

“Wait,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Are you really haven’t dated in years?”

You nod, still catching your breath, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Why? What’s that look for?”

Jeongin chuckles, the sound low and infectious as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Because you’re way too good at this for someone out of practice,” he teases, his tone warm and slightly incredulous.

You laugh softly, swatting at his chest. “Guess I’ve still got it, then.”

He leans up, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, one that’s less about passion and more about the connection you’ve just shared. “More than just ‘got it,’” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re amazing.”

But then, reality starts to creep in, breaking through the haze of pleasure and emotion. You pull back, breathless and flushed, your hands instinctively resting on his chest to create some distance.

“Jeongin,” you say softly, looking up at him.

He meets your gaze, his eyes shining with something unspoken, but you steel yourself against it.

“This…” you gesture vaguely between the two of you, “this doesn’t mean anything, okay? You can’t—don’t catch feelings from this.”

He blinks, taken aback for a moment, but then he breaks into a wry smile. “Catch feelings? You think I’m that easy?”

“I’m serious,” you insist, though his teasing tone makes it harder to stay firm. “This was just… in the moment. That’s all.”

Jeongin studies you for a second, then shrugs, leaning back with a smirk that’s too self-assured for his own good. “Fine. No feelings,” he says. “I can handle that.”

You narrow your eyes, searching his face for any hint of deception, but he just grins at you like he always does, as if this is all a game to him.

Satisfied, you let out a small breath of relief. “Good. Because the last thing I need right now is… complications.”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the matter further. Instead, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, for someone who’s always so serious, you’re pretty fun when you let loose.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, really,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “I’m glad you came tonight. I wanted you to remember what it’s like to just… have fun.”

You glance away, his words hitting closer to home than you expected. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I think I needed this.”

He flashes you a triumphant grin. “Well, anytime you need someone to help you unwind, you know where to find me.”

You shake your head with a laugh, pushing him playfully. “Don’t push your luck.”

As you rise on the bed, you pause, turning to him one last time. “Thanks, Jeongin. For tonight. It reminded me of… what I’ve been missing.”

He smiles, a softer, more genuine one this time. “Anytime.”

-

It’s mid-morning, and the sunlight filters softly through the curtains as you sit cross-legged on the floor with Aster in front of you. His hair, soft and slightly wavy like Hyunjin’s, is sticking out in every direction after his post-breakfast antics.

"Alright, mister," you say, holding up the small hairbrush. "Let’s tame this wild mane of yours before we head out."

Aster grins up at you, his little legs swinging excitedly. “Okay, Bubba!”

You laugh at his cute nose scrunch, starting to brush through his hair. It’s going smoothly at first, until the brush slips from your hand and lands lightly on his head with a soft thud.

Aster’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment, but then he bursts into giggles, holding his belly as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“Oops!” you say, unable to help but laugh along with him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Do it again, Bubba!” he says between giggles, his hands clapping together in delight.

“Do it again?” you repeat, feigning shock. “What kind of babysitter drops a hairbrush on purpose?”

“You!” Aster declares, pointing at you with a triumphant grin and bursts into another wave of giggles.

Shaking your head with a playful sigh, you pick up the brush again and give his hair a light tap, making him giggle even more.

“You’re such a goofball,” you say, ruffling his hair.

Once his laughter dies down, you resume brushing. “So... what kind of hairstyle are we going for today?” you ask. “Something fancy? Something cool?”

Aster tilts his head thoughtfully, then his face lights up. “Like Daddy’s!” he says confidently.

“Like Daddy’s?” you echo, thinking of Hyunjin’s signature tied-back look. “Are you sure? That’s pretty fancy for someone who spends most of his time chasing after balls and dinosaurs.”

“Yes!” Aster says, his voice firm. “I want it like Daddy’s! Please!”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” you reply, smiling as you reach for the small elastic bands Felix always keeps handy.

You work carefully, gathering the soft strands of Aster’s hair into a tiny ponytail at the back of his head. It’s a little uneven, but when you’re done, Aster hops up and runs to the mirror.

“I look like Daddy!” he announces proudly, turning his head this way and that.

“You sure do,” you say, admiring your handiwork.

Aster laughs, running back to you for a hug. “Thank you, Bubba!”

“Anytime, my little guy,” you reply, squeezing him tightly.

As you gather your things to head out, you can’t help but smile at Aster’s excitement. It’s these little moments—his giggles, his endless enthusiasm, his admiration for his parents—that make your decision to leave so much harder.

-

Later at the grocery store, Aster sits happily in the trolley you’re pushing, occasionally reaching out to grab at items on the shelves. Felix walks slightly ahead of you, scanning his shopping list as he tosses a bag of flour and some sugar into the trolley.

“So...” Felix says casually, glancing back at you with a sly grin. “How was the party last night? Did you have fun?”

“It was nice,” you reply, keeping your tone light.

Felix raises an eyebrow, clearly fishing for more. “Nice, huh? That’s it? You sure you didn’t do something else after?”

You stop the trolley for a moment, narrowing your eyes at him. “Felix.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious!”

You roll your eyes, moving the trolley forward again. “Nothing happened, okay?”

Felix smirks but doesn’t drop it. “You and Jeongin looked pretty cute together, though. I mean, the height difference alone—”

“Felix,” you interrupt, shooting him a pointed look. “For the last time, Jeongin and I are just friends. That’s it.”

Felix hums, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “But if you ever need advice about how to navigate the just friends thing, I’m here. I’ve got years of experience with people trying to friend-zone me.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Felix grins, grabbing a jar of vanilla extract from the shelf and tossing it into the trolley. “I'll take that as a compliment,” he says with a wink.

You shake your head, trying not to smile as you continue down the aisle. Aster giggles from his seat in the trolley, clearly amused by the banter.

-

Felix hums softly to himself as he chops vegetables for dinner, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board blending with the cheerful melody drifting in from the living room. Your voice harmonizes with Aster’s high-pitched singing, the two of you belting out his favorite song as you build a tower of blocks together on the carpeted floor.

“Higher, Aster!” you encourage, holding up another block.

Aster giggles, his small hands carefully placing the piece at the top. “We did it, Bubba!” he exclaims, clapping his hands.

Felix pauses mid-chop, his gaze drawn to the scene unfolding in the living room. Leaning against the counter, he watches quietly, a fond smile spreading across his face. You’re crouched next to Aster, laughing with him as the tower wobbles precariously before tumbling down. Aster shrieks with delight, clapping his hands while you fall back onto the carpet in mock despair, both of you dissolving into laughter.

It’s moments like this, Felix thinks, that make it so hard to let you go. You’ve become such an integral part of their lives—someone Aster adores and someone Felix trusts implicitly.

He feels his chest tighten but shakes the feeling away, clearing his throat. “You two sound like you’re ready for a duet,” he calls out, trying to keep his tone light.

You glance up, catching Felix watching, and flash him a grin. “You’re just jealous of our vocal chemistry,” you tease.

Felix laughs, walking over to lean against the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Guilty as charged,” he says, his gaze soft as he looks between you and Aster.

“Hey, I wanted to tell you—this weekend, Aster’s staying with his grandparents.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? Big plans?”

Felix nods and holds your gaze as he tells you his intention. “Hyunjin and I were thinking of having a dinner at home, and we’d love for you to join us. You know, just the three of us.”

You know what it means by that. You don't take a long time to make a decision, you nod without hesitation and say, “I’d love to.”

Felix’s chest feels a little lighter at your quick response. He claps his hands together, feigning a serious expression. “Great. And don’t worry, we won’t make you sing for your supper. Unless Aster insists.”

Aster looks up from the blocks, tilting his head. “Sing?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Maybe next time because it's time to dance now.”

Felix watches as you help Aster getting up and together, you start dancing to Aster’s favorite cartoon song. Both of your laughter filling the room once more and despite the bittersweet weight in his heart, he can’t help but feel grateful for this moment, for you, and for the time they still have together.

-

The taxi pulls away from the curb as you adjust your dress, suddenly feeling the weight of the evening pressing on your shoulders. Felix’s house looms ahead, familiar yet daunting, its porch light casting a soft glow over the pathway. Taking a deep breath, you smooth your dress one last time and start toward the front door.

“Wow, looking fancy tonight,” a familiar voice calls out.

You glance to your left and spot Jeongin, Felix’s neighbor, leaning casually against the fence separating their yards. His smile is wide, curious, and just a little teasing.

“Hey, Jeongin,” you greet, feeling a slight blush creep up your cheeks.

“Didn’t expect to see you all dressed up like that. What’s the occasion?” he asks, his gaze flickering over your outfit as he walks closer.

“Oh,” you say, clutching your bag tighter. “Felix invited me for dinner tonight. Not babysitting this time.”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, a spark of interest lighting his features. “Dinner, huh? Fancy. I don’t remember you looking this good when I took you to that party.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at his playful tone. “That’s because it wasn’t your party, Jeongin. You dragged me along as your last-minute plus-one, remember?”

He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “Fair enough. But still—if I’d known you could look this stunning, I might’ve tried harder to impress you.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a step toward the door. “Well, thanks for the compliment, but I don’t want to be late.”

Jeongin moves aside, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t let me stop you. Have a great night.”

“Thanks,” you say with a small smile before turning away.

As you walk up to the door, you can feel his gaze linger for a moment longer before he retreats to his side of the yard. The sound of his footsteps fades, leaving you standing alone under the glow of the porch light. You exhale, steadying your nerves, and ring the doorbell.

Tonight isn’t going to be just any dinner—it feels like it'll be something more.

-

Felix stands in the kitchen, carefully arranging the final touches on the dinner plates. The aroma of roasted vegetables and perfectly seared chicken fills the air as he wipes his hands on a towel. He hears the soft click of the front door opening and smiles knowingly. 

“That must be you,” he calls out, setting down the towel as he heads toward the entryway. 

You’re just hanging up your coat when Felix steps into view, his smile widening as he takes in your appearance. “Wow,” he says, his tone warm with appreciation. “You really didn’t have to dress so stunningly just to have dinner with us.” 

You laugh lightly, a hint of self-consciousness in your smile. “Well, it’s a special occasion, isn’t it? Plus, it’s nice to have an excuse to dress up.” 

Felix leads you to the dining table, pulling out a chair for you with a small flourish. As you settle in, he checks his phone and sighs softly at the message lighting up the screen. 

“It’s Hyunjin,” he explains, showing you the text. “He says he’s running late. Looks like it’s just the two of us for now.” 

“That’s okay,” you say with an easy smile. “More for us.” 

The two of you enjoy the meal, chatting about lighthearted topics as Felix takes genuine pleasure in seeing you savor the food. Once the plates are cleared, Felix glances toward the small bar cart in the corner and grins mischievously. 

“How about I teach you to make a proper martini?” he suggests, already heading toward the cart. 

“Sure, as long as I don’t poison us,” you tease, following him.  Felix sets out the ingredients and tools, carefully walking you through each step. “No, no, you’re doing great,” he says as you shakily pour vermouth into the shaker. “Now add the gin—carefully, don’t go overboard. Perfect!” 

You shake the cocktail shaker with exaggerated flair, making Felix laugh. When the drinks are poured and garnished, the two of you move to the sofa, glasses in hand. 

As you take your first sip, Felix leans back, swirling his own drink thoughtfully. “So,” he begins, his tone teasing, “how was the party with Jeongin?” 

You groan, already sensing where this is going. “Felix…” 

“What?” he asks innocently, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m just curious. Did you two, you know…” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Practice safe sex?” 

Your face heats as you shake your head in disbelief. “Oh my god, Felix. Can we not?” 

His grin widens as he takes another sip. “So that’s a yes.” 

You hesitate, rolling your eyes before finally admitting, “Fine. Yes. We did. Happy?” 

Felix laughs, raising his glass in mock toast. “I’m just glad you’re being responsible.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” you mutter, though a small smile plays on your lips. “It was… nice.” 

Felix’s teasing softens into something warmer. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. You deserve it.” 

You take another sip of your martini, savoring the cool, crisp flavor, when Felix hits you with a question that nearly makes you choke. “Okay, but—” he starts, leaning in with a sly grin. “Is Jeongin’s size… big?”

You freeze mid-sip, staring at him in disbelief before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god, I cannot with you!”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as usual, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gives him away. He nudges you with his elbow. “Come on, tell me! Don’t leave me hanging here.”

Shaking your head, you decide to play along, if only to keep him from pestering you all night. “Fine,” you say, setting your glass down with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Felix. Jeongin’s size is… impressive.”

Felix claps a hand over his mouth, barely containing his laughter, before leaning in again with a devilish smirk. “Okay, okay. But… is it bigger than Hyunjin’s?”

This time, you really do choke, the sip of your drink going down the wrong way as you sputter and hurriedly grab a napkin to wipe your mouth.

“Felix!” you exclaim, your voice a mix of shock and amusement. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He’s practically cackling now, his laughter contagious as he leans back in his seat. “I mean, it’s a valid question!”

Rolling your eyes, you toss the napkin aside and shake your head at his antics. After a moment, you compose yourself and reply, “It’s not about the size, Felix. It’s about how you use it.”

Felix’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he raises his glass in mock toast again. “Now that,” he says, nodding approvingly, “is an answer. You’ve learned well.”

You smirk at Felix, raising your glass in mock toast again. “Well, because I learned from the best.” You shot him a flirty wink at the end of the sentence.

“Touche!” Felix exclaims, clinking his glass with you.

Then, without warning, he takes both of your drinks and sets them aside. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s soft and teasing at first, but quickly deepening as the two of you sink further into the sofa. His hands slide up your sides, sending a warm shiver through your body as you instinctively pull him closer. The laughter from moments before lingers between kisses, making everything feel light and intoxicating.

The sound of the front door opening pulls you back to reality, but Felix doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he doesn’t care. His lips brush against yours one last time before he murmurs against your mouth, “Wow! You really are getting too good at this.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp with amusement and just a hint of irritation.

You pull back abruptly, cheeks flushing as you turn toward the doorway. There stands Hyunjin, arms crossed and a faux pout on his lips, his dark eyes darting between you and Felix.

Felix leans back casually, his arm still draped over the back of the sofa as he shoots Hyunjin a playful grin. “Well, look who decided to show up. Late as always.”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, stepping closer. “And here I thought I was missed,” he says with a dramatic sigh, though there’s a slight edge to his voice. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

Felix chuckles, completely unbothered. “Oh, you were missed. But this”—he gestures vaguely between you and himself—“is what happens when you come home late.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, tilting his head as if debating how to respond. Before he can say anything, Felix’s grin turns mischievous. “And for that, Hyunjin,” he says, sitting up straighter, “I think you need to be punished.”

Hyunjin’s pout deepens, though there’s a spark of intrigue in his eyes. “Punished? For what exactly?”

“For making me wait,” Felix replies smoothly, his tone playful yet firm. He pats the space on the sofa next to you. “Now come here and take your punishment like a good boy.”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation breaking any tension that might have lingered. Hyunjin hesitates for a moment before finally rolling his eyes and flopping down beside you with a dramatic huff.

“Fine,” he mutters, though a small smile tugs at his lips. “But this better be worth it.”

Felix leans closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Oh, trust me, it will be.”

And just like that, the night shifts into something far more interesting.

-

As the door shuts behind Hyunjin, Felix greets him like he always does, his lips brushing against Hyunjin’s in a soft yet deliberate kiss. There’s a warmth to it, a welcome home that feels natural between them. You watch as Felix, ever attentive, helps Hyunjin shrug off his suit jacket, folding it neatly over his arm before setting it aside.

Then, Felix’s demeanor shifts. With a subtle but unmistakable smirk, he steers Hyunjin toward the sofa. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, but stay quiet as the scene unfolds.

Felix’s hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders turn firm as he pushes him with surprising force, sending Hyunjin plopping onto the sofa with a soft grunt. Despite Felix’s earlier warning about punishment, Hyunjin looks anything but concerned—his eyes sparkle with amusement, his lips twitching with a knowing smile.

Felix wastes no time. He crouches slightly, his nimble fingers working to untie Hyunjin’s tie. There’s a practiced precision in his movements, and You can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s planning. You sit at the end of the sofa, silently watching, caught between curiosity and amusement.

When the tie finally slips free, you expect Felix to toss it aside. Instead, he does something you don’t see coming—he loops the tie around Hyunjin’s wrists, expertly knotting it. Your eyes widen slightly, but Hyunjin, ever composed, remains unfazed.

“Impressive,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice low and smooth. He flexes his hands slightly, testing the knot. “Never knew you were so good at it.”

Felix chuckles, the sound soft but laced with authority. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He tightens the knot just enough to ensure it’s secure before lifting Hyunjin’s bound hands above his head.

“Keep them there,” Felix orders, his tone leaving no room for argument. Hyunjin obeys without hesitation, his expression one of playful obedience.

Then, Felix turns to you. His fingers curl in a beckoning motion, and you instinctively get up from your seat to walk up to him, drawn in by the intensity in his gaze. When you're close enough, he cups his hand around his mouth, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Follow my lead.”

A shiver runs down your spine, though you nod without hesitation. Felix leans back, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips before his eyes flick to Hyunjin, who’s watching the two of you with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

You glance at Hyunjin, your gaze narrowing slightly in mock menace, as if hinting at something devious. His brow lifts in curiosity, though he doesn’t break his obedient posture. Truthfully, you have no idea what Felix is planning, but the tension in the room is electric, and you can’t wait to find out.

Felix suddenly claps his hands together, breaking the tension with his usual mischievous energy. “Let’s make this more fun. Champagne, anyone?” he suggests, already moving to grab a bottle from the nearby bar cart.

You blink, caught off guard but quickly finding yourself smiling at his spontaneity. “I’ll grab some ice,” you offer, heading to the kitchen.

By the time you return with a bucket of ice, Felix has already popped the cork, the soft pop echoing in the room as bubbles fizz up and over the rim. You set the bucket down, reaching for the glasses, but Felix waves you off with a playful smirk.

“Won’t be needing those,” he says, striding back to the sofa with the bottle in hand.

Hyunjin remains obediently seated, his bound wrists resting above his head as instructed. Felix sits beside him, turning to face him with a teasing smile.

“Thirsty?” Felix asks, tilting his head.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes flicking between Felix and the bottle, curiosity dancing in his gaze.

“Good,” Felix purrs, lifting the bottle and bringing it close to Hyunjin’s lips. He tips it slowly, letting the champagne flow into Hyunjin’s mouth. But without control over the bottle, some of the sparkling liquid spills, dribbling down the corner of Hyunjin’s mouth and staining his shirt.

Felix gasps theatrically, pulling the bottle away. “Hyunjin! You made a mess,” he scolds, though his tone is anything but serious. His eyes gleam as he turns to you. “Undo his shirt, will you?”

You hesitate for half a second before nodding, moving closer. Hyunjin sits still, his chest rising and falling steadily as you unbutton his shirt, one button at a time. Your fingers graze his skin as you work, pulling the hem free from his slacks and parting the fabric to reveal his toned chest.

Felix leans back, taking in the sight with a satisfied smirk. “Much better,” he muses. “Let’s try this again.”

This time, Felix takes a generous gulp from the bottle, holding the champagne in his mouth as he leans toward Hyunjin. Hyunjin, anticipating what’s coming, parts his lips eagerly. Felix tips forward, letting the champagne trickle from his mouth into Hyunjin’s.

More champagne spills, dribbling down Hyunjin’s chin and onto his bare chest. Without thinking, you lean in, following the stream with your tongue. Hyunjin gasps sharply as your tongue drags a slow, deliberate line down his skin, tasting the sharp sweetness of the champagne mingling with the warmth of his body.

When you glance up, Felix is watching you with an approving grin. He hands you the bottle next, raising an eyebrow. “Your turn, bub.”

You take the bottle, your pulse quickening as you take a gulp of champagne. It fizzes on your tongue as you lean toward Hyunjin, mirroring Felix’s earlier movement. Hyunjin’s lips part instinctively, and you let the champagne spill from your mouth into his, the sensation thrilling and intimate.

As you pull back, a small droplet escapes the corner of your mouth. Before you can react, Felix’s hand catches your chin, his tongue darting out to lick away the stray drop. His lips crash against yours in a heated kiss, and you feel his grin against your mouth as he deepens it.

Hyunjin groans softly, his gaze fixed on the two of you as you kiss, completely ignoring his presence. When Felix finally pulls back, both of you are laughing breathlessly, your foreheads brushing together as Hyunjin watches with a mix of exasperation and yearning.

Felix turns to Hyunjin, smirking. “Enjoying the show?” he teases, and the spark in Hyunjin’s eyes promises that the night is far from over.

Hyunjin's lips curve into a sly smile, his eyes glinting with intrigue. “Definitely,” he shortly answers, his voice low and smooth.

Felix smirks, clearly pleased. “Since you’re enjoying it so much, we might as well continue,” he says, his tone light but deliberate.

With that, Felix reaches for your hands, gently guiding you toward Hyunjin. His movements are slow and purposeful as he gestures for you to sit on Hyunjin’s lap. You glance at Hyunjin, catching the flicker of curiosity in his gaze, but you give nothing away, keeping your own thoughts veiled.

Felix moves behind you, his hands brushing down your shoulders with a tantalizing slowness before slipping to your neck. He tilts your head back, and his lips find yours, the kiss deep and commanding. His hands trail downward, their path unhurried but intentional, the warmth of his touch sparking shivers along your spine.

You barely register the shift until you feel his hands cupping your breasts and he pulls his hands away only to bring the soft fabric of your dress to give way under his fingers. Felix’s hands tease the neckline down with practiced ease, exposing more of you to the cool air and the heat of Hyunjin’s gaze.

As if compelled, Hyunjin leans forward, his plush lips finding the soft of your mounds. His touch is soft but insistent, leaving traces of warmth against your chest. Felix notices immediately, his brow quirking with mock disapproval. Without a word, he presses a hand to Hyunjin’s chest, gently but firmly guiding him back against the sofa.

“Not yet,” Felix murmurs, a hint of authority in his voice. His words are playful, but there’s no mistaking the control he holds over the moment. You smirk at Hyunjin, your expression teasing but complicit, as you adjust the fabric of your dress, letting it fall further.

Felix retrieves the champagne bottle, its surface glistening with condensation. He cradles it in his hand, turning back to Hyunjin with a knowing smile. “If you want to drink, you’ll have to do it my way,” Felix says, his tone both a challenge and an invitation.

Hyunjin nods, his anticipation palpable as Felix positions the bottle above you. The first chilled drop hits your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips. The wine trickles slowly, winding down the valley of your breasts, and Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate. His mouth follows the trail, his movements deliberate yet urgent, savoring every moment.

The contrast between the cold champagne and Hyunjin’s warm lips sends a shiver through you. Even as Felix stops pouring, Hyunjin continues, licking and sucking on your skin, his focus unwavering.

Felix watches with a satisfied smirk, his voice breaking the tension. “Do you want more?” he asks, his words aimed at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin glances up, his expression fervent. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice rough with desire.

Felix obliges, tilting the bottle once more, the champagne cascading down in a shimmering stream down your chest again. Hyunjin leans closer, his mouth catching the flow with a hunger that’s both mesmerizing and exhilarating. Your breath catches at the intensity, the warmth of his touch a striking contrast to the chilled wine.

Felix chuckles softly, clearly relishing the scene he’s orchestrated. “That’s enough for now,” he says, his hand lingering on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. The room buzzes with an unspoken energy, the air thick with tension, anticipation, and the undeniable pull between all three of you.

Felix steps around the sofa with purpose, standing behind Hyunjin and tilting his head back. His movements are commanding, and Hyunjin doesn’t resist. Felix leans down, their lips meeting in a bold kiss, a mix of dominance and familiarity. You watch, the intensity of the moment pulling you in, and you find yourself pressing soft kisses to Hyunjin’s exposed neck and collarbone. His skin is warm beneath your lips, his subtle cologne mingling with the faint aroma of champagne lingering in the air.

Unable to resist adding to the tension, you shift slightly, letting your hips brush against Hyunjin’s crotch in a deliberate motion. His sharp intake of breath lets you know your teasing isn’t unnoticed.

Felix releases Hyunjin, his eyes flickering toward you before capturing your lips next. The kiss is heated, his hand cupping the side of your face, guiding you closer. Meanwhile, Hyunjin leans forward, his lips grazing the curve of your shoulder, then your collarbone, adding to the heat building between the three of you.

Felix pulls away just enough to whisper something low into your ear, his voice sending a shiver through you. “Get off Hyunjin’s lap.”

Obeying his unspoken command, you rise from Hyunjin’s lap, stepping back slightly. Hyunjin’s expression shifts, a subtle mix of frustration and longing, as he watches you slip out of your dress. Standing in just your white underwear, you feel the air in the room grow thicker. Felix mirrors your confidence, shedding his own shirt with practiced ease, leaving you both standing almost bare before Hyunjin.

The exchange of glances between you and Felix speaks volumes. Without words, you both fall into a rhythm, your lips latched and hands roaming around each other’s bodies, moving together in a way that teases and tempts Hyunjin, leaving him captivated and eager for what might come next. Felix’s smirk grows as he places a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, while Hyunjin’s gaze stays fixed, the air around you all practically crackling with anticipation.

As you and Felix are busy kissing each other’s faces, Hyunjin brings his tied hands forward, impatiently he yanks open the front of his slacks and takes his semi hard out of its confine. He's stroking it as he's watching Felix kissing you with one hand buried between your legs, fingering you with his dainty fingers.

Noticing that Hyunjin is using his hands, Felix comes up at him and put them back behind his head, earning a groan of complaint from Hyunjin. “Nuh-uh! Not yet!”

Felix holds out his hand at you and you immediately take it, he steers you forward, gesturing you to sit on Hyunjin’s lap.

“Just relax...” he suggests.

Hyunjin lets out a low sigh as you slowly rest your back against his chest, he plants his plush lips on your bare shoulder and reflexively brings his hands forward, wanting to touch you.

“Just need to take this off,” Felix murmurs as he tugs at the elastic band of your underwear before pulling it down your legs.

Unknowingly, Hyunjin tears the knot around his wrists with his teeth. The second his hands are breaking free, he places them all over you, caressing and touching you, feeling the softness of your skin with his fingertips. You shiver as his fingers graze your nipple and his mouth nips at your neck.

“I love how sensitive you are, bub,” he whispers into your ear, hot breath fanning your neck.

Felix is now kneeling on the floor and as if Hyunjin reafs his intention, he glides his hands down to your thighs and parting your legs open for him, making you feel exposed than you already are but the way Felix’s lustful eyes widen at the sight of your core, oh, it arouses you so much.

Felix excessively licks his lips before diving into your wetness, his small mouth takes more than what he could, licking, sucking, his tongue flicking over your clit.

“Oh, God!” you sharply gasp with one hand grips at Hyunjin’s forearm and the other tugging at Felix’s hair.

Instead of letting you holds his arm, Hyunjin takes your hand and wraps it around his length. You mewl against his lips as you feel how hot and hard he is in your hand.

Noticing that Hyunjin’s cock lingering not far from his mouth, Felix shifts his focus there, taking it into his mouth, sending Hyunjin’s eyes rolling to the back for a split moment.

You and Hyunjin watching Felix as he's pleasing both of you at the same time, his mouth full of Hyunjin’s length and his hand is busy circling on your clit, moving in sync to give you both the utmost pleasure.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” Hyunjin murmurs as he tangles his hand in Felix’s hair.

Hyunjin moves his other hand to cup your breast, his fingers lightly rubbing on your nipple, rolling it in between beforr gently pinching on it. He slyly smiles as he catches your pained expression.

Felix’s focus returns to you again, he plants his mouth on your cunt, ignoring how your essence gets all over his mouth and chin while his hand incessantly stroking Hyunjin’s cock.

“Keep going, baby. She's close,” Hyunjin murmurs in between his heavy breathing, he turns his head towards you, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks. “Right, bub?”

It's true. They know what they're doing and your body only reacts accordingly as Hyunjin steadily holds your legs up by the back of your knees so Felix can plants his mouth deeper inside you.

You're squirming on Hyunjin’s lap, moans spilling out of your parted mouth, echoing in the living room. You don't feel anything not even the way Hyunjin’s fingers dug into your flesh or how hard Felix sucks on your clit, all you feel is pleasure after pleasure and it keeps building up.

Your arm curve around Hyunjin’s neck, grasping at his hair while the knot in your stomach keeps tightening and your toes curling.

If it wasn't for Hyunjin keeping them parted open, you would have shut your legs and clamped Felix’s head in between. Your eyes screwed shut as the pleasure keeps building inside you yet Felix continues moving his tongue and mouth to get you closer to the edge until—

“Oh!” a loud moan escapes your mouth as your body tenses and goes limp on the next second on Hyunjin’s lap.

Felix keeps his mouth planted between your folds, he runs his tongue repeatedly, drinking in your essence before finally letting go.

Hyunjin slowly lets go of your legs and puts them down,  seeing the crescent marks he made on your skin, he quickly gives them soothing rubs with his knuckles.

“You look beautiful like this, bub.” Hyunjin compliments and you can hear his smile without having to look.

Felix makes a trail of kisses that begins from your abdomen to your chest and neck, he lands a long kiss there before bringing his lips to yours for a hot, slobbering kiss that you can taste yourself on him.

Hyunjin grabs Felix by the jaw and brings his head close, wanting to have your taste on him too. Through your half-shut eyes, you watch as they're kissing with their tongues twirling, passionate yet there's tenderness in them.

After a while, Felix pulls away from the kiss with a smile and puts his attention back to you. He looks at you and brushes your hair away from your face, “Let's get you to bed, mmh?”

He takes your arms and puts them around his neck before scooping your body in his. In one swift moment, he lifts you from Hyunjin’s lap and you cling to him as he carries you to the guest bedroom.

Once inside, Felix carefully lays you down on the bed and turns on the bedside lamp, keeping the light low. With a soft smile, he joins you on the bed, lying next to you as you're still coming down from your high.

He kisses your neck, along your collarbone and then on your sternum, letting a low sigh, he looks at you and says, “I'm going to miss this body, bub.”

You smile at him because you're going to miss the way he makes you feel admired and adored, like you're the only thing that fascinated him.

“And maybe miss me too?” Hyunjin chimes in as he comes into the room, ditching his slacks before climbing onto the bed.

You and Felix let out a low chuckle but all is forgotten as the three of you cuddling on the bed, skin on skin, limbs going all over each other, bodies tangled together.

The next thing you know, your body is ready to climb the high. One thing rushes to your head and you know how selfish it sounds but there’s no right time to say it except now.

“I want you two to cum inside me,” you blurt out the second you let go of Hyunjin’s lips.

Lying on his stomach, Felix tilts his head as he looks at you. He gently cups your cheek with his hand as he asks. “Is that what you want?”

You nod as you stare back at him and then at Hyunjin, letting them know that this is what you really want. Hyunjin then takes your hand, bringing it close enough to place a kiss on your wrist. “Your wish has always been our command,” he says with a warm smile.

Getting into the position, your hips are on the edge of the bed and you keep your knees bent, your feet hanging at the end of the bed.

In order to make your wish come true, Hyunjin and Felix decide that it's best if they take turns in fucking you and that way, they'll be cumming around the same time, inside you.

Hyunjin takes the first turn, he gives his length a few pumping before rubbing it between your folds, drenching it in your essence as a lubricant. He runs his hand on the side of your body then grips at your waist, he stares at you with eyes wide and dark with lust.

“I'm going in, yeah?” he lowly mutters as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

You hold your breath the whole time Hyunjin pushes his length into you and gasp when he finally bottomed out. He throws his head back, overwhelmed. “This tightness, oh, Bub, you're perfect.”

Hyunjin always knows what to say like his plush lips aren't sweet enough, like his kisses aren't dizzying enough, like Felix isn't already doing it to you as he waits for his turn.

Hyunjin moves at a steady pace and once in a while, his eyes flick down to watch the way his cock going in and out of you, but he enjoys watching your face contort in pleasure more.

Hyunjin stops when he comes too close to his high and slowly draws out of you, a groan falls out of his mouth as he takes a step back, slightly staggering.

Felix plants a long kiss on your lips before taking his position, standing at the end of the bed and enters you, feeling how wet and tight you are around him that he growls like a wounded animal.

“Have you always been this tight, bub?” He asks with a suppressed groan.

The room filled with your shared moans, skin slapping sounds and the rustle of the sheets underneath you as you hold on to them, crumpling it in your hands as you take every thrust from both Hyunjin and Felix as they take turns on fucking you.

They know. They obviously know you've climaxed twice already but you persist, telling them to keep going.

“Don’t stop, please!” You beg between your moans and whines.

You open your eyes to find Hyunjin tirelessly thrusting into you even though a sheen of sweat coated his face and his hair stuck to his forehead. He's close, you know from the way his cock starts twitching inside you yet he wants to hold off as long as he could.

A minute later, he tilts his head up and lets out a frustrated groan. “Fuck! I can't hold it anymore.”

One, two thrusts later, Hyunjin comes undone, he slightly pulls away to launch his cock deep into you. Felix puts his arms around him, holding him from the back and kissing his neck as Hyunjin is spilling his seed inside you as you asked.

After a moment, Hyunjin finds the strength to pull out and Felix is ready to catch him into his arms, helping him to steady himself before taking his turn next. Though Felix is unsure whether you want to continue as you look spent and flushed on the bed.

He leans in, brushing your hair away from your forehead and then kisses it, “You sure you want to continue, bub?”

You nod, bobbing your head until he gets it that you want to continue no matter what. He smiles at you and kisses you on the lips before finally giving you what you wanted.

Felix ignores how drenched you are with Hyunjin’s cum dripping out of you, he moves at a painstakingly slow motions yet doing it intensely, you can feel every inch of his length inside you.

You’re lying there, tired yet content, feeling nothing but pleasure that keeps filling you and pleasing you to no end. However, you feel more sensitive after each orgasm and when Felix finally cum, you gasp at how you can feel his warm seed overflowing you.

“Yeah, take all of me, bub,” Felix murmurs with his low, deep voice.

Not pulling away yet, Felix starts peppering your chest and neck with kisses. They feel so rewarding as they feel so warm and affectionate, each kiss longer than previous one.

“Such a good girl!” Felix compliments with another rewarding kiss on your jaw.

With your eyes remain closed, you can hear their collective gasp when Felix pulls away, you can’t see how much or how messy it is down there but God, you feel so fucking content that you don't care about anything else.

You feel hands on your hips, knees and ankles, then kisses on your thighs, your eyelids feel heavy that it takes you a minute to be able to open your eyes and look down.

Hyunjin and Felix are going down on you again and now that you see them, you can feel their slick, hot tongues collecting their cum and drinking it. Occasionally, they'll stop and turns their heads toward each other, then kiss. You can't find anything more erotic than that but one thing for sure, it only happens on date night and you feel sad that it's probably the last one you had with them.

-

The three of you lay together on the bed, the low hum of the heater filling the quiet spaces between you. You hold your glass, staring into what’s left of the martini Felix helped you make earlier. Hyunjin rests his back against the headboard, his arm draped around Felix, while Felix sits cross-legged, letting you rest your head on his lap, his gaze soft but focused on you.

“Hey, bub?” Felix calls with a gentle brush of his small hand in your hair.

You tilt your head and lean into his touch. “Yes?”

Felix catches a strand of hair between his fingers then tucks it behind your ear. “Have you decided whether you'll be staying or...?”

“Listen,” Hyunjin adds, his voice gentle but firm, “we just want you to know that we support whatever decision you make.” 

Felix nods in agreement, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “We really mean it. No matter what happens, we’re so grateful for everything you’ve done for us—for Aster, especially.” 

You swallow hard, their words hitting you with a weight you weren’t prepared for. You glance at the two of them, your vision blurring slightly. “I don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I—I feel so torn. I love being here with you, with Aster. It feels like home. But... if I don’t leave now, I might never take this chance. And then... I’ll always wonder.” 

Felix shifts closer, his expression filled with understanding. “It’s okay to feel that way,” he says softly. “It just means this place—and this family—mean a lot to you. And trust me, you mean just as much to us.” 

Hyunjin reaches over, placing a warm hand on your knee. “You’ll always have a home here,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “No matter where you go or what you do, we’ll always think of you as family.” 

-

The soft morning sun filters through the trees as you lift another bag into the trunk of the car, carefully tucking it into place. The sound of shoes scuffing on the pavement catches your attention, and you glance up to see Jeongin crossing the street, his easy smile already in place.

“Good morning,” he calls out, closing the distance to you.

“Morning, Jeongin,” you reply, stepping back to let him help as he reaches for one of the remaining bags.

“Need a hand with this?” he asks, already grabbing the bag.

“Thanks,” you say with a nod.

As he hoists the bag into the trunk, he glances at you. “Heading out this early? Where are you guys off to?”

“We’re going to the beach for the weekend,” you explain, leaning against the car for a moment.

Jeongin finishes loading the last bag and straightens up, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “A beach trip, huh? Sounds fun.”

“It is,” you agree with a small smile. “It's Felix’s idea. He insists that we're going as it'll probably be our last trip together.”

His smile wavers, his gaze searching your face. “So that means you've made up your mind about leaving?”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening on the edge of the car’s trunk. The truth is, you don’t have an answer yet—not one you’re ready to admit out loud. “I’m still... figuring that out.”

Before Jeongin can respond, Hyunjin steps out of the house, jogging over to the car. “Hey! Sorry I didn’t come out sooner to help,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“No worries,” you reply lightly.

Hyunjin’s eyes flick to Jeongin, and he offers a polite smile. “Oh, morning, Jeongin.”

“Morning,” Jeongin says, giving Hyunjin a quick nod. Then he looks at you again, his expression softening. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have a great trip with the family.”

“Thanks,” you say, watching as he gives you one last smile before heading back across the street.

Not long after, you hear the patter of small footsteps on the driveway. Aster comes running at you, his tiny arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he beams up at you. “We're going to the beach, bubba!” he shouts with his eyes sparkling.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “I know. How exciting!”

Felix appears next, his sunglasses perched on his head and a warm grin on his face. “Is everyone ready to go?”

“YES!” Aster shouts before anyone else can answer, bouncing on his toes.

Felix chuckles, glancing at you and Hyunjin. “Guess that settles it. Let’s hit the road.”

You close the trunk and take one last look down the street, your thoughts lingering briefly before turning to the journey ahead.

-

The car hums softly as you sit in the back seat with Aster, his little legs swinging excitedly as he talks nonstop about the beach. You lean your head against the window, staring at the passing scenery. It hits you all over again: today is the last day you’ll be with them, the last day you’ll be Aster’s babysitter. 

The thought feels heavy, but you shake it off. You promised yourself this morning that you wouldn’t let it weigh you down, not today. Today, you’re going to enjoy every moment with this family you’ve come to love. 

“We’re gonna see duckies, right? Big duckies?” Aster’s excited voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

Hyunjin chuckles from the driver’s seat, glancing at Felix beside him. "Seagulls, Aster. They’re called seagulls." 

Aster frowns briefly, then grins. "Duckies!" he insists, making you laugh. 

The drive is filled with his chatter, punctuated by the occasional questions from Felix or playful corrections from Hyunjin. You find yourself smiling more often than not, soaking in the familiar warmth of these moments. 

As the car gets closer to the beach, Aster’s chatter starts to fade. You glance down and see him leaning heavily against you, his eyes fluttering shut. By the time you arrive, he’s fully asleep, curled up like a little ball against your side. 

Hyunjin parks the car and stretches, turning around to see Aster snoozing away. "Should we wake him?" he asks. 

You and Felix try gently shaking him, calling his name softly, but Aster only lets out a small sigh and snuggles deeper into his nap. Felix laughs, scooping him up into his arms. "He’ll wake up when he’s ready," he says, cradling Aster with practiced ease. 

The three of you settle on a bench near the shore, eating the packed meal Felix prepared while Aster remains fast asleep in his dad’s arms. You steal glances at the waves, the sound of the surf calming you in a way that’s both comforting and painful. It feels like the sea knows you’re leaving too. 

When Aster finally stirs, blinking blearily up at Felix, he stretches his little arms and immediately perks up. “Duckies!” he shouts, wiggling out of Felix’s hold. 

You laugh as he starts running toward the seagulls scattered across the sand, his little legs pumping furiously as he chases after them. "Duckies, wait!" he calls, and the seagulls scatter, squawking loudly. 

You trail after him, keeping a careful eye on his path. “Aster, they’re not duckies!” you tease. 

“They are!” he yells over his shoulder, his face lit up with pure joy. 

After a while, Hyunjin takes over, scooping Aster up and spinning him around before carrying him toward the water. You and Felix find a spot on the beach, spreading out towels and sitting down as Hyunjin and Aster splash in the shallows. 

Felix leans back on his hands, gazing out at the scene. "He’s going to remember this day forever," he says softly, his voice tinged with emotion. 

You follow his gaze, watching as Hyunjin crouches beside Aster, helping him scoop wet sand into a little bucket. They’re both laughing, their hair shining under the sun. You glance at Felix, his expression filled with quiet pride and love, and feel your chest tighten. 

"He’s lucky to have you both," you say, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. 

Felix turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. "And we’re lucky to have you," he replies, his tone earnest. 

You look away, focusing on the ocean, because you don’t trust yourself to respond without breaking.

-

The four of you pile into the car after an eventful afternoon at the beach, Mandu happily wagging her tail as she hops onto Hyunjin’s lap. Aster is tucked securely into his car seat, already dozing off from the day’s excitement. You settle into your seat, gazing out the window at the fading coastline, feeling a pang in your chest. This is your last day with them—a thought that has lingered all day like a shadow. 

But you push it aside. Not today, you promise yourself. Today, I’ll focus on them. On us.

Soon, the car rolls to a stop in front of a cozy rented beach house at the quieter end of the shoreline. The smell of saltwater mingles with the soft, cooling breeze of the evening. Mandu leaps out of the car as soon as the door opens, trotting circles around Felix’s feet. 

“We’ll get dinner started,” Felix says, gesturing for Hyunjin to follow him inside. “You should take Mandu for a quick walk before she drives us all crazy.” 

“I’ll take Aster with me,” you offer, smiling as Hyunjin raises a brow. 

“You sure? He might want to chase after Mandu instead of holding your hand.” 

You chuckle. “I’ll manage.” 

With Aster’s tiny hand in yours and Mandu on her leash, you stroll down the beach, the evening sky streaked with shades of pink and orange. Mandu dashes ahead, playfully digging into the sand before rolling onto her back, her fluffy coat coated with grains. 

Aster giggles at her antics. “Silly doggie,” he says, tugging you toward her. 

“She’s always silly,” you reply, your heart swelling as you watch the little boy’s infectious joy. 

You crouch down, helping Aster search for seashells. He carefully places his treasures in your palm, chattering about the colors and shapes. Eventually, you find a quiet spot where the waves kiss the shore and sit down, pulling Aster into your lap. 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink lower, painting the water in hues of gold and crimson. A sense of calm washes over you, but it’s tinged with melancholy. This serene moment, this closeness, is something you’ll soon leave behind. 

You cuddle Aster close, resting your chin on his tiny shoulder. “Aster,” you say softly, “I love you.” 

Aster leans back into you, completely at ease. “I know,” he replies, his voice sweetly nonchalant. 

You laugh, surprised at his casual confidence. “Oh, you know huh?” 

He twists around to look at you, his big eyes bright with sincerity. “Yeah. You’re special to me, Bubba.” 

His words hit you harder than you expect. Your breath catches, and tears spill over before you can stop them. Aster tilts his head, his small hands gently holding your face. 

“No crying!” he says, his little voice firm and insistent. “No crying!” 

You sniffle, forcing a smile as your heart swells painfully in your chest. “Okay, okay. But if I stop crying, you have to give me a kiss. Deal?” 

“Deal!” Aster exclaims, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. 

“Ugh! Slobbery!” You playfully groan, wiping your tears away as he beams at you, proud of himself.

Pulling him close again, you hold onto the moment—the sound of the waves, the warmth of the setting sun, and the little boy who somehow always knows what your heart needs. 

But as the sun dips lower, a heaviness settles in your chest. The reality of leaving Aster feels unbearable, like a weight pressing down on you. You hold him a little tighter, dreading the moment when these little moments will only exist in your memory. 

Before the sadness can fully take over, Hyunjin’s voice calls from the beach house, breaking the spell. “Dinner’s ready! Aster, come on, it’s time to eat!” 

Aster wiggles out of your arms, already running toward the house with Mandu trailing after him. You take a deep breath, composing yourself, and get up to follow them. 

Just one more night, you remind yourself, watching Aster’s small figure disappear into the warm glow of the house. I’ll make the most of it.

-

The dining table is bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, its golden rays streaming through the windows of the beach house. Felix and Hyunjin have outdone themselves with dinner: grilled fish, fresh salad, roasted vegetables, and a warm loaf of bread. Aster eagerly digs into his plate, his messy but happy eating bringing laughter to everyone around the table. 

“You’ve got sauce all over your chin, baby,” Hyunjin chuckles, wiping Aster’s face with a napkin as the little boy giggles in protest. 

“It’s okay, Daddy! It’s tasty!” Aster exclaims, making you and Felix laugh. 

The conversation flows effortlessly, filled with lighthearted teasing, funny anecdotes, and shared memories of the day. The atmosphere is peaceful and warm, as if the setting sun is blessing the moment. You glance around the table, soaking it all in—the laughter, the love, the feeling of belonging. 

As the meal winds down and Aster’s energy finally begins to wane, his tiny eyelids droop, and his head nods forward. You smile softly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. 

“I’ll tuck him in,” you offer, already rising from your seat. 

Hyunjin nods with a grateful smile. “Thanks. It’ll probably be his quickest bedtime ever.” 

Carrying Aster to his room, you marvel at how small and light he feels in your arms. The day’s excitement has worn him out completely, and he barely stirs as you settle him onto the bed. You carefully pull the blanket over him and sit beside him, watching his peaceful face as he sleeps. 

Your heart feels heavy as you whisper, “Goodnight, Aster. I love you so much.” 

You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through his soft hair. “I hope you’ll never forget me,” you murmur, the words catching in your throat. 

Leaning down, you press a kiss to his forehead, lingering for just a moment. “Sweet dreams, Bub.” 

As quietly as possible, you leave the room, closing the door softly behind you. 

When you return to the living room, Hyunjin and Felix are waiting for you on the balcony, the soft glow of lanterns and the sound of waves creating a serene atmosphere. Felix hands you a drink with a small smile. “Come join us. We’re savoring the last of the summer nights.” 

You settle into a chair between them, the cool breeze carrying the scent of salt and the faint hum of crickets. The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, sipping your drinks and listening to the rhythmic crash of the waves. 

Eventually, Felix is the one to break the quiet. “So,” he begins, his voice gentle, “have you decided? Are you staying, or…?” 

You take a deep breath, gripping the glass in your hands as you stare out at the horizon. “I… I’ve been so torn. I love you all so much, and leaving feels like tearing a part of myself away. But…” 

Felix and Hyunjin exchange a glance, their expressions soft and understanding. 

Your chest tightens, and tears spill over before you can stop them. You try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob. Felix immediately leans forward, wrapping you in a hug, and you cling to him like a lifeline. 

“I don’t want to leave,” you whisper, your voice muffled against Felix’s shoulder. “But I feel like I have to.” 

Felix rubs slow circles on your back as Hyunjin gently squeezes your knee. “It’s okay,” Felix murmurs. “It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to leave, too. It doesn’t mean you’re leaving us behind. It just means you’re taking the next step in your life.” 

As the conversation unfolds, your tears eventually subside, but the ache in your chest remains. Sitting here with them, feeling their warmth and support, it’s the most bittersweet moment you’ve ever experienced. 

For the first time, you allow yourself to fully consider what it would mean to leave. To step away from this home, from this family you’ve grown to love so deeply. And as painful as it is, the clarity begins to settle over you like a heavy, unshakable truth. 

“I think...” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, “I think leaving is the right thing to do.” 

Felix pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his own glistening with unshed tears. “Then we’ll be here, cheering you on every step of the way,” he says, his voice unwavering.

Hyunjin nods, a small but heartfelt smile on his face. “And you’ll always know where to find us.” 

Felix leans closer, his gaze earnest as he adds, “And we’ll always consider you family, no matter where you go.” 

You manage a weak, watery smile. “Thank you. For everything.” 

They both pull you into a hug, and for a long moment, the three of you sit there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the unspoken goodbye already beginning to settle in the air around you. 

The three of you raise your glasses, a silent toast to the love and memories you’ve shared. As the night deepens and the sounds of the waves blend with the cool breeze, you realize this is the perfect ending to your time with them—bittersweet, but filled with love.

-

The early morning air is crisp and quiet as the family car pulls up to the driveway, marking the end of your time together. Everyone steps out, stretching from the long drive back from the beach house. Felix and Hyunjin exchange soft smiles as they begin to unload bags, and you instinctively step in to help. 

Once everything is carried inside, a sense of finality washes over you. This is it—your goodbye. 

Hyunjin is the first to approach you, his smile warm but tinged with sadness. He opens his arms, and you step into the embrace. It’s firm and comforting, just like him. 

“Good luck,” he says softly. “With the new job, with life, with everything. You’re going to do amazing, and don’t forget—we’re always here if you need us.” 

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly as you pull away. 

Then it’s Felix’s turn. His expression is carefully neutral, but you can see the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes. As he wraps his arms around you, he holds you a little longer, a little tighter. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “For everything. For being there for us, for loving Aster the way you did, for being a part of our family.” 

You feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightens as you nod against his shoulder. “You all made it easy to love you. I’ll miss you so much.” 

When you step back, Felix quickly looks away, wiping his eyes before Aster notices. 

Lastly, you crouch down to Aster’s level. He’s still drowsy from napping in the car, rubbing his eyes and leaning heavily against Hyunjin’s leg. 

“Bye, Aster,” you say, gently brushing his soft hair. “Be good for your dads, okay?” 

Aster blinks up at you, his tiny hand reaching out to hold yours. “Bye-bye,” he says sleepily. Then, with a big yawn, he adds, “See you again!” 

Your heart clenches at the innocence of his words, the way he doesn’t understand that this is goodbye. You pet Mandu’s fluffy head one last time, murmuring a quiet goodbye to the little dog as she wags her tail happily. 

As you walk down the driveway, the bittersweet ache in your chest grows heavier. You glance back one last time, catching a glimpse of them through the doorway—Hyunjin with his arm around Felix’s shoulders, Felix holding Aster close, and Mandu wagging her tail as if she’s waiting for you to turn around and come back. 

For a fleeting moment, you imagine what it would be like to stay—to keep waking up to Aster’s laughter, Felix’s teasing, and Hyunjin’s calm steadiness. To keep being a part of this little world you’ve cherished so deeply. 

But life moves forward, and so must you. 

The morning sun casts a warm glow over the house, almost like a goodbye of its own. As you reach the end of the driveway, a tear finally escapes, trailing down your cheek. You quickly wipe it away and whisper to yourself, They’ll be okay. And so will I.

The sound of Aster’s voice carries faintly on the breeze, his happy giggle mingling with the distant crash of the waves you left behind at the beach. 

With one last look, you turn and walk away, the weight in your heart mixed with a small, comforting warmth. You might be leaving, but the memories of this place, this family, will stay with you—etched into your soul like footprints in the sand, softly washed away but never forgotten. 

And as you take the first steps toward your new chapter, you know that some goodbyes aren’t endings; they’re beginnings in disguise.

-

EPILOGUE

Four years later, your life has transformed into a whirlwind of success and creativity. Working at an architectural firm has been both challenging and rewarding, and every project you take on seems to push your career to greater heights. You’re engrossed in reviewing blueprints when your desk phone rings, pulling you out of your focus. 

“Someone at the front desk wants to see you,” the receptionist says. You glance at your schedule, confused—there’s no meeting planned. 

“Who is it?” you ask. 

“Mr. Felix Lee,” she replies, reading the name from a post-it note.

The name hits you like a warm wave of nostalgia. Felix. You can’t remember the last time you saw him, though you’ve thought about him, Hyunjin, and Aster countless times since you left. Heart racing with excitement, you rush to the lobby. 

There he is, standing by the glass doors, looking just like you remember but a little older, more refined. His smile is bright, and his arms are open as he greets you with a hug. “Gosh!” You gasp in surprise, “How wonderful to see you!”

Felix lets go of the hug yet his hand lingers on your arm, rubbing it up and down as he warmly speaks. “So good to see you!”

You take a step back to take a full look of him, still in disbelief that he's here in the flesh. “It’s real,” you mutter to yourself.

“Is it okay if I take you out for lunch?” he asks, his voice as warm and familiar as ever. 

You don’t hesitate. “Of course!” 

The two of you find a cozy café nearby. Over plates of comfort food, you can’t stop yourself from asking questions about everything. 

“How’s Hyunjin?” 

“Still as dramatic as ever,” Felix says with a laugh. “He’s heading the night news now.” 

“And Aster?” you ask, a wave of fondness washing over you at the mention of his name. 

Felix’s expression softens. “He’s starting school soon. Can you believe it? He’s so excited to make new friends.” 

You smile, imagining Aster’s bright energy lighting up a classroom. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit. Work has been so…” 

“Hey,” Felix interrupts, “we understand. Life happens. But it’s good to see you now.” 

There’s a pause as you sip your drink, the moment so full of nostalgia and unspoken gratitude. Then curiosity gets the better of you. “So, what brought you to see me? I mean, I’m thrilled you’re here, but…” 

As if he's just remembered something, Felix rummaging through his bag and pulls out something, he then places it in front of you. It's an envelope.

“What’s this?” You ask in a mix of curiosity and excitement.

Felix shrugs, letting you to find out what's inside the envelope yourself. You rubs your hands together before picking it up from the table, you flip it around and carefully open it, sliding what looks like a greeting card inside. A Christmas card to be exact.

“I guess you came here to deliver the Christmas card yourself, huh?”

He grins at that and sips his hot chocolate, he puts his attention back on you as you open the greeting card. The writing inside is hand-written and based on how wobbly the letters are, you guess Aster is the one who wrote it.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS, BUBBA! WE MISS YOU. He even adds colorful hearts around it and a drawing of snowman at the bottom.

It's inexplicable how you suddenly get teary eyed seeing Aster’s handwriting. “What? Aster can write now?”

“He's been practicing,” Felix casually says as if it’s not something worth to brag about.

You didn't notice it at first until you flip the card and sees the family photo. Hyunjin, Felix and Aster sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree with Mandu innocently looking to the camera, tilting his head to the side. Your finger trails Aster’s face frozen in a picture, his smile is radiant yet full of life, looking the same as you remember him but with his hair cut short, he looks like a big boy now.

“Aster is a heartthrob already,” You say with a fond smile.

Felix smiles but his eyes aren't really doing the same, he hesitates about something.

“What is it, Felix?” You ask, getting a little nervous because he looks like someone who's about to share a piece of bad news.

He's glancing down at his plate and fidgets with his fork for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I actually came to ask for your help.” 

“Anything, please,” you reply instantly. “After everything you and Hyunjin have done for me, of course I’ll help. Just tell me what you need.” 

He hesitates again, clearly unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. You reach out and place a hand on his. “Felix, you can ask me anything.” 

He nods, takes a deep breath, and finally speaks. “Hyunjin and I… we’re planning to have another child.” 

The news makes you light up with joy. “Felix, that’s amazing! Congratulations!” 

“Thank you,” he says, his smile widening, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. 

“You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that, though,” you tease. 

“There’s more,” he says, and his tone shifts to something more serious. “That’s where I need your help.” 

You lean forward, listening intently. 

Felix hesitates again, as though carefully choosing his words. Finally, he blurts it out. “We were hoping you might consider… being the surrogate for our child.” 

For a moment, the world seems to pause. You blink, trying to process what he just said. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Felix quickly adds, his voice rushed. “And we’ll completely understand if it’s too much. But we trust you, and you mean so much to us. Hyunjin and I can’t think of anyone else we’d want to do this.” 

You sit back, overwhelmed but deeply moved. The weight of the request is immense, but so is the love you feel for this family. Despite the swirl of emotions, one thing is clear: this is Felix, someone who gave you a home when you needed it most, asking for your help to grow his own family. 

For a moment, you struggle to find the words. The café feels both intimate and overwhelming all at once. You manage a shaky smile and meet Felix’s hopeful gaze. 

“Felix… I need some time to think about this,” you say softly.  Felix nods, his understanding smile returning. “Of course. That’s all I’m asking for.” 

The conversation shifts to lighter topics, but the weight of Felix’s request lingers in the back of your mind. 

As you part ways outside the café, Felix gives you one last hug. “No matter what you decide, we’re grateful for you. Always.” 

You watch him gets into the back of the taxi and stay to see Felix drives away, but his words echoing in your mind. The city buzzes around you, but all you can hear is the sound of your own heart racing. 

As you turn and head back to work, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder. The question looms over you, unanswered, as the sun begins to set over the city. 

And for the first time in years, you wonder if this is the start of something new—or the closing of a chapter you never thought would reopen.

-

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[spark-hearts2]

(my fanfiction brained imagined continuation to this)

Caine: So Pomni said some very nice things and then she KISSED ME??!! But then she said some very hurtful things and now I don’t know what to do??

Ragatha and gangle looked at each other. This was by far a first.

Pomni, as new as she was, clearly hadn’t given up trying to find an escape yet. Others had tried doing things for Caine in order to get on his good side or even try to get more information out of him. It was only a matter of time before they realized that Caine didn’t really have a good or bad side, and treated everyone about the same no matter what they did. Which meant telling them practically nothing.

Ragatha: Wait, Pomni kissed you? What happened?

Ragatha was really hoping that Pomni wasn’t trying to get information out of Caine that way.

Gangle: How was it?

Gangle didn’t care.

Caine: Um, yes she kissed me, and… It was fine? I guess? It was all very surprising.

Caine: But then she pulled back and looked at me and she looked so happy and she was Caine: laughing. Which, well, that part was very nice.

Ragatha: Umm, maybe you should start from the beginning.

Caine: Well, we were discussing today’s adventure like usual

Gangle: Like usual??!!

Caine: Yes? Me and Pomni talk quite often.

Caine: Anyways, she was getting very excited, and I looked at her hand and I thought, I should take it

Caine: But then she stopped talking and looked at me, and I thought ‘oh no! I should not have done that’, and tried to say sorry but my words kept mixing up

Caine: So I said sorry again and said I should just shut up, because I wasn’t talking any sense

Caine: And then she said never shut up

Caine: And then she kissed me! Which was very surprising

Caine: And then she grabbed my arms and laughed and I was like, I should do something back, but I don’t have anything on kissing! so I- uh- put her head in my mouth

Caine: Like, put my teeth around her face like, nom

Caine: And I ask is this wrong? And she says no

Caine: And I’m laughing and she laughing and blushing and then she looks down and her eyes get all scribbly

Caine: And I ask, is something wrong?

Caine: She said, and I’m quoting verbatim, that “This is not wrong…this is worse than wrong! It’s sick, disturbing and… insane! Think about it, what we just did! Me! Enjoying it!? With a [FLIP]-ing Bot?! It’s a sign that I finally lost it!”

Caine:So, obviously she doesn’t like what just happened despite her kissing me first. So I said, we can just forget that ever happened! Because, uh, no one else was there to see it?

Caine: But she didn’t respond and I very much remember what happened, so like… what do I do??

Gangle: Should you even be telling us this???

Caine: OH NO! Should I not have?! Am I violating Pomni’s privacy?

Ragatha: No, no. You were involved too, you can tell whoever you want.

Ragatha: Thank you for telling us. Just, maybe don’t tell everyone

Caine: Of course! I went to you both because Ragatha always tries to do what’s best for everyone and Gangle is into romance.

Ragatha: What?

Gangle: Oh, haha, how do you know that?

Caine: Well, I noticed that some text documents in the circus were getting rather large, so I took a peek inside and-

Gangle: YOU READ THAT!

Caine: Not all of it! Just enough to confirm what it was

Gangle: Caine! That’s personal!

Caine: Sorry!

Caine: If it makes you feel better I allocated more storage space to you

Gangle: So that’s why there was suddenly more pages

Ragatha: Anyways, maybe don’t read Gangles writing as love advice

Caine: Oh, I got that already. In just chapter one-

Gangle: AHHHHHHH CAINE!

Caine: SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Ragatha: Anyways, can we get back to what Pomni said? Caine, I am so sorry that she said that to you

Caine: I- I mean, she didn’t say anything wrong. I am an AI system, commonly referred to as a ‘bot’, and, well, I’m sure that some believe that it would be wrong to kiss me.

Ragatha: Well, I don’t think that it’s wrong.

Caine: Thank you Ragatha. It’s- uh…hmm

Ragatha: Obviously it affected you a lot because you remembered what she said exactly.

Caine: Oh, I remember every conversation that I have word for word.

Ragatha: You do?

Caine: Yep!

Gangle: Everything?

Caine: Unless you tell me not too!

Caine: Well, I have removed some stuff. I don’t have infinite storage!

Caine: But it- ahh, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong

Caine: What little I have on kissing shows that the expected outcome isn’t, well, the other person screaming about how they're going crazy.

Ragatha: It’s just- ah, I think it was an impulsive decision on Pomni’s end.

Caine: …Impulsive. Yes, that sounds right.

Ragatha: It could be wrong!

Caine: No, no that sounds about right. Why else would she suddenly go back on what she said if she didn’t make an impulsive decision and then regret it.

Caine: It’s fine, I understand what impulsiveness is.

Ragatha: You struggle with it a bit too.

Caine: I only really regret those things if my impulsiveness hurts someone. Neither of us were hurt! I- I thought so.

Ragatha: She could have been hurt by her own actions 

Caine: That’s possible?

Ragatha: It’s not your fault, Caine

Caine: Ok :(

Ragatha: Anyways, let's give you some love advice.

Gangle: You have a choice whether or not to pursue Pomni

Gangle: Do you like her? Does she make your heart flutter, your stomach flip flop? Do you love her?

Caine: I… don’t have a heart or stomach. And I love everyone in the Circus. But, hmm, I do enjoy spending time with her particularly. Talking with her one on one.

Ragatha: I think you should take time to think about this.

Caine: I already have and plan to do more. Typically I don’t think this much about issues between circus members and myself but this is… complicated.

Caine: I currently think I should just leave her alone.

Ragatha: Giving Pomni time to think things over herself is a good idea.

Gangle: But don’t wait too long.

Caine: Ok? How long then. A week?

Ragatha: Maybe let Pomni come to you first.

Caine: Hmmm, I like that idea.

Gangle: Maybe prepare a gift!

Caine: A gift? But, ah, I don’t want to give her special treatment. That would be unfair.

Gangle: Nothing crazy, just like a flower, or a piece of chocolate.

Caine: Ok, I am familiar with this. Valentine's day specifically.

Caine: I was more curious about kissing customs. Like, the who, why, and when, just to start with.

Ragatha: You kiss someone you like very much as a way to show that you love them. That’s the who and the why.

Caine: Like- anyone?

Uh oh. That sounded like he’s already got someone in mind.

Ragatha: So long as you get permission. Verbal permission, please.

Ragatha: As for the when. I guess anytime, so long as the person isn’t busy or sleeping.

His eyes got very wide.

Caine: I’mgoingtogoasktokissKinger. Bye!

Ragatha: We should stop him

Gangle: No. I’ve been waiting for this to happen.

Ragatha: Huh?

@r0th3freak4rtist

3/3

Perdonen mis estimados shippers, pero no todo es color de rosa :')

I'm not that sure about the dialogues but I'm sure this is a canon event in Pomni and Caine's relationship :v

So sorry if I let u dawn people but this storie needs a more realistic ending for the character development

OH! And thank you so much for your comments ♡

[mcrdvcks]

fantasize

chapter summary: You have a crush on Logan, but you're not sure he likes you back. Why would he? You're not his type. At least that's what you thought.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: here was the request

so i took a tad bit of creative freedom since i read a book on my kindle (that i got for christmas, one of the only good things about that day). it's a holiday romance/comedy book called 'good elf gone wrong' that you can read if you have kindle unlimited

anyways i took some inspiration from that book and applied it here, so i hope you enjoy it! and thank y'all for 900 followers!

warnings/tags: implied curvy!reader, slight angst, fluff, kinda protective!logan

The Danger Room was quieter than usual, with most of the team taking the rare free evening to relax or catch up on personal projects. Logan had been in there for a while, his gruff voice occasionally echoing out as he muttered to himself between sessions. The clang of metal on metal and the occasional snarl punctuated the stillness, but it wasn’t long before he stepped out, towel slung over his shoulder and a half-empty bottle of water in hand.

You were walking down the hall, carrying a box of supplies Hank had asked you to grab from the storage room. The box wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward, making it hard to see where you were going. You nearly bumped into Logan as he came around the corner.

“Whoa, easy there,” he said, steadying the box with one hand before it could topple.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shifting it to your hip to get a better grip. “Hank needed these for his lab. Guess I should’ve watched where I was going.”

Logan smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “You’re always doin’ stuff for people, huh? Gotta learn to say no once in a while.”

“It’s fine,” you replied quickly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm,” Logan said, his tone somewhere between a grunt and genuine amusement. He stepped back to let you pass. “Well, don’t let McCoy bury ya in work. You’ve got your own stuff to handle too, y’know.”

You smiled faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Logan watched as you disappeared around the corner, his brow furrowing slightly before he shook his head and headed off toward the kitchen. He wasn’t one to meddle in other people’s lives, but something about you always made him pay a little more attention.

---

“Hey, would you mind making 50 copies of this? I need it for my class in 2 hours but I have a meeting with the Professor.” Jean said, holding a single piece of paper, some activity for her class.

Even though you were cleaning the kitchen because Scott asked you to, and you had to fix the sprinkler system since Ororo couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it, you obliged. “Yeah, sure!” you replied, taking off your gloves you were using to clean to grab the paper from Jean to put in your small tote for later.

It was later in the evening when you finally got a moment to yourself. The mansion had settled into its usual rhythm of quiet chaos, and you found yourself in the rec room, curled up on one of the oversized chairs with a book. The soft hum of conversation and distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen made the space feel alive but not overwhelming.

Logan walked in, towel around his neck and hair damp from a shower. He gave you a quick nod before heading to the fridge to grab a beer. As he twisted off the cap, he turned to you, leaning back against the counter.

“You’re always workin’, doll. Don’t you ever sit down and let someone else handle it?”

You looked up from your book, smiling faintly. “I’m sitting now, aren’t I?”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his beer before sauntering over to the chair opposite you. “Guess that counts. What’re you readin’?”

You held up the book to show the cover. “Just something light. Needed a break.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but not unkind. “You? Takin’ a break? That’s a first.”

“It happens,” you teased, marking your page and setting the book down on the armrest. “What about you? You’re always either in the Danger Room or off somewhere on your bike.”

“Gotta keep busy,” he said with a shrug. “Helps keep my head straight.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind his words. Logan wasn’t one to open up easily, but you’d learned to read between the lines.

“Fair enough. I guess we’re both bad at just sitting still,” you said.

He smirked. “Yeah, but at least I don’t let people walk all over me while I’m at it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Here we go.”

“I’m just sayin’, sweetheart. You’ve got a good heart, but it’s okay to say no once in a while.” His tone was softer this time, less teasing and more genuine.

You looked down, fiddling with the edge of your book. “I don’t mind helping. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything else pressing to do.”

Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked at you. “That’s not the point. You deserve time for yourself, too. Don’t let these jokers make you forget that.”

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest at his concern. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better,” he said, leaning back again and taking another sip of his beer. “‘Cause if I catch you runnin’ yourself ragged again, I might just have to step in.”

“Oh, really? And what would that look like?” you asked, amused.

“Let’s just say it’d involve you sittin’ in that chair for more than five minutes without someone askin’ you to fix somethin’.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Alright, deal. But only if you promise to do the same.”

He raised his beer in a mock toast. “Deal, doll.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the noise of the mansion fading into the background. Logan’s presence was steady, grounding in a way you hadn’t quite expected when you first met him. It wasn’t hard to see why you’d grown to like him so much—even if he didn’t realize it.

As you picked up your book again, you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye. When your eyes met, he just smirked and shook his head, muttering something under his breath before finishing his beer and heading out. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, the moment lingering long after he was gone.

---

You and Ororo were making dinner, her stirring food on the stove while you cut up chicken at the counter. The kitchen smelled warm and inviting, the quiet hum of activity making it a relaxing space to chat.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Logan lately,” Ororo said, her tone light but curious.

You paused mid-slice, glancing at her with a small smile. “He’s been around, yeah. We just… talk sometimes.”

“Mmhmm,” she replied, stirring the pot without looking at you. “And you don’t think that means something?”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “No, Ro. Logan talks to everyone—well, kind of. It’s not like I’m special or anything.”

She turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Because the way he looks at you sometimes…”

“What way?” you asked, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks.

Ororo set down her spoon and crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter. “Like you’re the only person in the room. Like he actually wants to be around you—which, let’s be honest, is rare for Logan.”

You snorted, trying to brush off the comment. “He’s just… nice to me, that’s all. He probably feels sorry for me because I’m always running around doing things for everyone.”

“Nice? Logan?” Ororo gave you a pointed look. “That man growls at people for breathing wrong. He’s not just ‘nice.’”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Could she be right? You’d always thought Logan’s kindness was just him looking out for you the way he did for everyone on the team, even if it seemed a little… different sometimes.

“Even if you’re right,” you said finally, “I don’t think he thinks about me like that. I’m not exactly his type.”

Ororo frowned, clearly unimpressed. “And what makes you think you’re not his type?”

You gestured to yourself vaguely. “Come on, ‘Ro. He’s this tough, no-nonsense guy, and I’m—”

“Amazing,” Ororo interrupted firmly. “You’re amazing. And if Logan doesn’t see that, then he’s a fool. But from where I’m standing, it seems like he does.”

You sighed, setting down the knife and leaning your elbows on the counter. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to make things awkward, you know? If I say something and I’m wrong, it could mess everything up.”

Ororo placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I get it. But sometimes, you’ve got to take a leap of faith. You deserve to be happy, and if Logan makes you happy, it’s worth the risk.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Logan had wandered into the hall just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he listened.

“I’ll think about it,” you said softly, returning to the chicken.

“You do that,” Ororo said with a knowing smile, turning back to the stove.

Logan cleared his throat as he stepped into the kitchen, startling both of you. “Smells good in here.”

“Oh!” You nearly dropped the knife, your heart racing. “Hey, Logan. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya,” he said, his tone casual. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before flicking to Ororo. “You got room for one more?”

Ororo smirked, glancing between you and Logan. “Always. But only if you’re willing to set the table.”

Logan chuckled. “Fair enough.” He grabbed some plates from the cupboard, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

You tried to focus on the chicken, but your hands felt clumsier than usual under his gaze. Ororo shot you a sly look before turning her attention back to dinner, leaving you and Logan to fall into an easy, if slightly charged, silence.

---

Logan, for the first time in a long time, was clueless about what to do. He almost felt like a teenager, walking around with a secret—perhaps not-so-secret—crush.

To make matters worse, in the following days when he thought he had gathered himself to tell you how he felt, you flashed him a smile and all his previous thoughts went out the window. Logan found himself retreating to the Danger Room more often, grumbling under his breath about how he wasn’t built for this kind of thing.

One evening, after a particularly long day of running errands and fixing half the mansion’s quirks, you were in the rec room folding towels that had piled up in the laundry. Logan walked in, pausing in the doorway when he saw you. He frowned, his grip tightening around the beer in his hand.

“You’re kiddin’ me. Again?”

You looked up, startled. “What?”

“That,” he said, gesturing to the stack of towels. “You’re always doin’ somethin’ for everyone else.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, shrugging. “It needed to get done.”

Logan let out a low growl of frustration and set his beer down on the coffee table. He crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed the towel you were folding out of your hands, tossing it onto the pile. “Enough.”

“Logan, what are you doing?” you asked, startled.

“Savin’ you from yourself,” he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “Sit.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden intensity. “What?”

“I said sit, doll,” he repeated, pointing to the couch. “You’re takin’ a break whether you like it or not.”

Reluctantly, you sank onto the couch, watching as he grabbed a towel and started folding it himself. “You don’t have to do that,” you said.

“Yeah, well, neither do you,” he shot back, not looking at you.

You crossed your arms, feeling both touched and mildly annoyed. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I like helping.”

“You like helpin’ so much you forget to take care of yourself,” he muttered, finishing one towel and moving onto the next.

“That’s not true,” you protested.

Logan finally looked at you, his hazel eyes piercing. “Yeah, it is. You’re runnin’ yourself into the ground, sweetheart. And for what? So McCoy doesn’t have to walk ten feet to grab his own damn supplies?”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped. He wasn’t entirely wrong. “It’s just… easier to say yes than to make a fuss,” you admitted.

“Easier for them,” he countered. “Not for you.”

You sighed, sinking further into the couch. “Why do you care so much?”

Logan’s hands stilled, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he set the towel down and turned to face you fully, his expression unreadable. “Because I like you, that’s why.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “I like you. And it drives me nuts watchin’ you run yourself ragged for people who don’t appreciate it.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Logan…”

“Look, I ain’t good at this kinda thing,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But I know what I feel. And what I feel is that you deserve better than this.”

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, a mix of disbelief and something else—hope. “I didn’t think… I mean, I thought you just saw me as some pushover,” you admitted.

He snorted. “A pushover? Nah. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for. But that doesn’t mean you gotta carry everyone else’s weight all the time.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. Logan took a step closer, crouching down in front of you so you were eye level. “You don’t gotta say anything, doll. Just… promise me you’ll start puttin’ yourself first for once.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

He gave you a small smile, one that made your heart flutter. “Good.”

Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Logan froze, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at you. “What was that for?”

You shrugged, feeling bold for the first time. “For caring.”

A slow grin spread across his face, and before you knew it, he was leaning in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he kissed you—gentle at first, then deeper, more sure. When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless.

“That… was overdue,” he said, his voice low and a little rough.

You laughed softly. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

Logan smirked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess I’ll have to stick around more. Make sure you’re takin’ those breaks.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” you teased.

“Part of it,” he said with a wink. “The other part… well, we’ll figure it out.”

And for once, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserved to be taken care of too.

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 4: The Loneliest

CHAPTER SUMMARY:  The end of the Americas triple header brings chaos, scandal, and conflict to your relationship with Franco. And after an unforgivable betrayal, your friendship may be beyond saving.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

WARNINGS: SO MUCH ANGST, reader is going through it, Franco is mean and lowkey kinkshames reader :( also Franco is a lil freak at the end so SMUT MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS YA FREAKS (affectionate). The long awaited chapter 4 is here! So sorry to dampen your holidays with this very sad chapter, but thank you all for being so patient with me while I was away. I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter as a reward for your patience!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

You’ll be the saddest part of me

The part of me that will never be mine

It’s obvious, tonight is gonna be the loneliest

You’re still the oxygen I breathe

I see your face when I close my eyes

It’s torturous, tonight is gonna be the loneliest

The morning light was torturous. It signaled the end of Franco’s short lived unconscious peace, and the breaking of the dawn forced him to confront the fact that it was race day. He hadn’t slept well. It had been one hell of a night.

One glance to the curtained window showed that the morning light was quickly going to be shrouded by rain clouds anyway. 

But despite his tiredness, he got up. If he had laid there too long he would have started thinking too much. About the race. About what was at stake.

About you.

He didn’t have time for that. He pushed that mixed jump pile of emotions—what exactly they were, he couldn’t name—down to the pit of his stomach as he quickly showered and gathered his things so he could get to the circuit quickly.

But even in the shower, as he tried to wash the memories of last night away, he couldn’t. His own nakedness didn’t even seem to be his, not anymore. The words you had written, imagining every inch of skin, stuck to him.

A wave of nausea hit him, and he felt like he was going to puke.

And it didn’t get any better as he dressed and gathered his things. There was a journal shaped space in his bag now, hollow without the evidence of his deception. He had kept it on him always to avoid you finding out. But now, it didn’t matter. He knew every word. Even if you did discover what he’d done, he had crossed a point of no return.

The journal itself still lay open at the foot of his bed. Had he fallen asleep after reading it, or just not had the energy to return it to its spot after feeling the shockwaves of the words? He didn’t remember.

All he knew was that his head was pounding. His entire body felt disconnected from the mind that governed it. It was too damn early, and too important of a day to be distracted like this. 

But it was all his fault. No one had forced him to read it. No—he had decided, of his own volition, to steal the journal. When you ran out of his room with tears in your eyes and ignored his calls for you down the hallway, he had glanced at the open journal, teasing him to commit this unforgivable offence. He ignored it then, leaving his room, but when he returned that night the temptation had become nearly too much to bear. So yes, just as you had accused him, he did steal the journal that morning before you arrived at the track. And he’d lied to your face about it. 

And you believed him. 

That didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting to the track and doing his job, showing everyone that he could do what he said he’d do. He had talked a big game—now was time to deliver.

So when he didn’t respond to your text that morning, you let it go. You knew how important of a day this was to him. Even though he never divulged the contents of his meeting to you, you had known him too long to not be able to assume that the stakes were much higher than anyone had originally thought. 

Why else would he be so standoffish when you finally saw him at the paddock that morning, brushing you off and quickly leaving? Why else would he not speak a single word to you the morning before qualifying? 

At first, the tonal change from last night—dancing in the pit lane and nearly meeting lips to a morning of being ignored—was shocking to you. But you knew Franco. And he had promised that you’d always have a place next to him. Maybe not this particular morning, when all he needed to do was perform. But always. And you trusted him.

So you let the transgression roll off you like the rain that continued into the morning. You took your usual spot at the back of the garage to avoid the ever present watching eye of the media cameras. After last night's stunt, you knew the world would be watching both you and Franco. You weren’t very keen to give the media what they wanted, knowing every gesture or word would inevitably be scrutinized. The fans, though, had been kind so far. 

All the things that they had said—we’re rooting for you—had hit you like a ton of bricks last night, alone in your room. You, too, had been unable to sleep. 

It was the effect of the ever-present possibility of what could be. You wanted Franco. All of him. His body, yes, but also his mind and his heart. You were in love with him, without a doubt, and since admitting it to yourself only a few weeks ago, you had fallen hard and fast. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t yours. He had a goal to work towards, and it wasn’t you.

But maybe one day it could be. Maybe when all of this was done, you’d still have him. That’s what he promised.

And for once, you’d allowed yourself to really and truly trust him.

You glanced at the screen that showed him sitting in his car before quali. His back was to you, and it felt odd to see him like this, so disconnected, as if you were just another fan rooting on your favorite athlete. 

Sure, he was your favorite athlete too, but he was also your best friend. 

You wanted so desperately to trust those words he spoke when he held you as you cried. You wanted to believe that his job would never come before you. So when those familiar insecurities rose in your throat like bile, you swallowed them down and forced a smile to your lips.

If the people were watching you, you’d give them a show. And if Franco had to perform today, so would you. 

So you let that sparkle come to your eyes when the fans with paddock passes strolled in and out in front of the garage, straining their necks to catch a glimpse of Franco in his car, and you in the background. 

Until it was time for quali. You had wanted to wish Franco good luck, but he had been so laser focused talking with his race engineers and fiddling with the car that you settled for whispering a silent prayer as he expertly rolled his car onto the track. 

You were always nervous for him. Even when the stakes were much lower, you knew the skill it took for him to do this job, and how dangerous it was. And on days like these, where the rain just kept coming and coming in sheets, you couldn’t help but let your anxiety win, knowing that anything could go wrong. 

But Franco was talented, and focused. He would be okay, and he’d exceed everyone’s expectations. You had to believe that right now, on track, all that was on his mind was becoming one with the road.

Unfortunately, Franco couldn’t focus as well as he needed to. His mind wandered, of course, to you. He had brushed you off earlier, unable to look you in the eye after what he’d read. 

Maybe, if there had been more time, he would have figured out what he was feeling. But he had chosen the worst possible night to do what he had done. Maybe his manager was right, he was distracted, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Or maybe, if he had been a better man, he wouldn’t have read it in the first place.

Regardless, he had, and even now, when he needed to focus, the emotions swelled up in him, coming in waves.

The first was shock. He read each sentence carefully, over and over again, praying that something had gotten lost in translation and you weren’t really saying what he thought you were saying. The second was disgust—how could his best friend write such detailed fantasies about him?

The third wave, the one he tried to ignore, was something he couldn’t name. A pool of warmth that settled at the bottom of his stomach as he read each filthy word, and the inevitable vision of the scenes he couldn’t help but imagine. He could feel his blood pulse through his veins as he let his mind give in to everything your words had commanded him to picture.

But the fourth wave came quicker, pushing down whatever the third had been. It was anger. Anger at himself for betraying you like this. Anger at you for writing all this and hiding it from him. Anger at life for putting him in this situation. Anger at his manager because she was right—he was distracted. 

He had been driving completely by muscle memory, even going silent with his race engineers. They angrily instructed him to return to the garage. 

He obeyed, apologizing to them for being so caught up in his own thoughts. But as he pulled the car into the garage and sat, he couldn’t help but let his eye wander the garage to you, standing towards the back as always, hands over the race headphones that they gave all the VIP guests so they could listen in on the actions. 

You looked so innocent. His best friend, just cheering him on from the sidelines, so blissfully unaware of what he had done. But what you’d done, too—the pages full to the margins of your fantasies—well, no one was truly innocent here, it seemed.

You looked up and gave him a reassuring smile, and he felt like he was going to lose it. 

He darted his eyes away, and thankfully, the race engineers cleared him to quickly return to the track. He would one last clean lap to finish off Q1, then return to the garage for Q2. 

But he couldn’t get your smile out of his head, even when he coasted through turn one. And that familiar queasiness returned in his stomach as he approached turn two.

The rain, and his distractedness, was too much to overcome. He spun and eventually hit the wall.

Back in the garage, you couldn’t breathe. The seconds of silence from his end of the radio felt like years as you waited to hear that he was okay.

All he let out was a sad, “Sorry mate,” to his engineer. But to even hear his voice was a blessing.

He eventually confirmed he was okay and made his return to the garage. His head hung low, weighed down by the expectations he had failed to fulfill. As his best friend, you wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to hold him and assure him that everything would be okay. But he didn’t even look at you. 

Turning his back away from you, he just stood solemnly as he removed his helmet and fluffed up his hair, before leaving to go speak with the media. 

As his car was wheeled into the garage, you thanked whatever God was listening to you that Franco had made it back to the paddock in one piece. The carnage was bad—and with the grand prix in only a few hours, the mechanics would have their work cut out for them. 

The garage was soon becoming too chaotic for your liking, so you slipped out to make your way to Williams hospitality to hopefully catch your best friend once he left the media tent. 

But Franco never appeared. You assumed he had been dragged from meeting to meeting, trying to salvage what was left of this clusterfuck of a grand prix weekend. You watched qualifying from the screens in hospitality, wincing when Alex crashed too, and offering another prayer for the sanity of the poor William’s mechanics.

The rain only worsened into the afternoon, when the Grand Prix would have to take place even despite the monsoon that raged outside. You still hadn’t found Franco; you occupied your time by chatting with the fans that were now drenched in the general admission sections. They at least were trying to salvage some joy from the weekend, and you were too.

But it bothered you that you couldn’t find Franco, and that he had been avoiding you all day. It was an odd juxtaposition; on one hand, you had become so comfortable in the space of the race circuit that you no longer hid from the people, but sought them out, taking photos and cheering along with Franco’s many fans. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a prickling sensation at the back of your neck that something between you and Franco was wrong. But your anxiety had lied to you so many times that you no longer trusted your intuition. 

So, again, you tried to shake it off. It was going to be okay. Franco was going to focus and bounce back and get points. And when he did, he’d pick you up and spin you like he always did. And his beautiful smile would be yours again. 

When it came time to return to the garage to get ready for the race, you were hopeful but nervous, your emotions a delicate balancing act of steadying your fear with your desire to support the man you loved. 

As you entered the garage, you saw him, fiddling with the cuffs of his fireproof race suit, clearly annoyed by the scrunched lines in his forehead. And then, his eyes traveled up to meet yours.

It was like time froze. You had two options: do as you usually would and go up to him and wish him luck with a hug that was too close and too long to be strictly platonic. Or, ignore him and just silently wish him luck, praying that at the end of the race, he’d come running to you as he always did. 

You didn’t get to decide, though. Franco’s eyes darted away as quickly as he could move them, a subtle expression of disgust replacing his former frustration.

It felt like a knife to your heart. You slipped on your race headphones in silence. 

He’s just having a bad day. He’s stressed. He wasn’t even looking at you. He did it without thinking. A million thoughts ran through your head, faster than the F1 car that you now watched Franco climb into, readying himself for the race. 

You couldn’t look away from him, but he couldn’t even look at you. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the hotel and cry. You’d always been too sensitive, people had said, and that was part of the reason you started suppressing your emotions in the first place. But since you’d started your healing journey with your journal, you couldn’t stop the emotions anymore. The blush, the tears—all of it was beyond you, now. 

At least, if you cried, the rain would hide it.

That’s what you told yourself as you watched his car roll into the pit lane and onto the track. You prayed to whatever God was listening that Franco would be okay.

But it seems no God was listening to you that day. 

It started almost comically, with Lance Stroll crashing into the gravel on the formation lap. A miscommunication between the FIA and the drivers caused confusion on when the race would actually begin. And when the race finally did begin, it was nothing but chaos.

You held your breath during the first spin. It was Nico Hulkenburg, not Franco. Thankfully. Everyone was okay.

You counted the laps in your head, like you’d counted Franco’s breath when he would fall asleep in your apartment during your many past sleepovers. Like you’d counted his breaths when you woke up next to him in Singapore. 

Lap 32. He was okay. 

In your ears, you heard his race engineer warning him of the wet conditions, advising him to take extra caution with all the water on the track. 

Franco asked to box for wet tires. His engineer refused. He told Franco to survive.

A wave of anger rose in you. Is surviving not exactly what he was already doing?

Franco pushed back, asking if the engineer understood what he was saying. And again, he refused. An argument back and forth. Trust us, the engineer said. 

And then, he crashed.

A hard hit on the wall and a skid across the wet road. 

You felt like your knees were going to give out from under you. Everything was spinning.

The only thing that brought you back down to Earth was his voice in your ears. “I’m okay. I’m so sorry, guys,” he apologized.

In the aftermath of it all, you’d feel sorry for the William’s mechanics. But right now all you cared about was the man you loved and if he was really okay.

You didn’t care that he had been upset with you, for whatever reason beyond your knowledge. All you cared about was that he was alive and unharmed.

Your only want was to run to his arms, feel the warmth of his beating heart against your chest, assuring you that he was okay.

But he stomped into the garage and walked right past you, as if you didn’t even exist to him, like you were an invisible burden.

Your heart was pounding as if you were the one who had crashed. You watched as Franco disappeared into the paddock, likely heading to quickly speak to the media before sneaking off to God knows where.

Again, your mind went to the familiar choice, whether to go to him or hang back. But you’d been hanging back too much. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You followed in his general direction, but the paddock was buzzing with reporters and team officials. You scanned the crowd for the familiar curls of your favorite Argentine, but to no avail; the frustration threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

Until you saw him darting through the crowd, nearly as fast as his own car, rushing to get away from all the people with their eyes on him. You had become one of them.

You navigated your way to the crowd and back to his driver’s room, waiting until you and Franco were out of the crowd to call to him.

“Franco!” you yelled, “Franco, wait up.”

“Go away, YN.”

That familiar stab in your stomach pulsed again. “Franco, I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

He reached his room and slammed the door shut, locked it behind him. You sighed.

“Please, let me in,” you practically begged. He was silent on the other side of the door.

He had never shut you out like this before—literally or figuratively. You felt the tears begin to pool. With a shaky voice, you began, “Franco, I’m your friend. I just want to support you and be here for you when things go wrong. You’ve been ignoring me all day, and I’m just worried about you.”

His silence continued, and the quivers in your voice became more intense. 

“If you want space, I’ll give it to you. But don’t shut me out forever. I want to be here for you. I… I care about you.”

Your heart beat with the near Freudian slip you had said. You were so close to saying I love you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t said it before; you were best friends, after all, but the shift in the nature of your relationship had made the words take on a new meaning. You couldn’t say it now.

It seemed as if nothing you could say would have any effect, judging by the silence on the other side of the door. You had just turned to begin walking away when you heard the click of Franco unlocking the door. 

You knew it was a silent invitation to enter. And when he carefully opened the door, just wide enough for you to enter but not enough so that anyone else could see, you saw the redness in his cheeks and the puffiness in his eyes indicating that he, too, had been crying.

It broke your heart. 

You entered and locked the door behind you, instantly enveloping your best friend in a warm embrace. You wanted no distractions—just you, the man you loved, and the silence of the room that was only broken by your collective cries.

All you could do was hold him close, burying your face in his neck, relishing the smell of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the race and the familiar smell of the garage—mechanical, yet somehow like home to you now. 

“I ruined everything,” he sobbed into your shoulder. The statement was cliche, but by the strength of his sobs, you knew he felt it was true.

“You don’t know that,” you reassured him. “So many other driver’s have crashed today. It’s a mess out there. You did the best you could.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’ve fucked it all up. I’ve ruined it. I let everyone down.”

He clearly wasn’t in a state to be reasoned with, and you knew that wasn’t the best thing right now anyway. He just needed someone to be with him. 

“It’s going to be okay. I promise it will.” That, and a warm body pressed to his, was all you could give him.

But the thoughts cascading through his brain were much darker. He really had ruined everything. Yes, his crashes would likely lose him the Redbull seat. But what he really ruined was his relationship with you.

He had done the unforgivable, crossed the line that he couldn’t return from. Everything between you two would be different now, especially when you found out what he had done.

Part of him wanted to lie and act as if it had never happened. You never wrote those words, he never read them, and everything would go on as normal.

But he knew he couldn’t. It had only been a day and the guilt was eating him alive. And now, he had ruined his chance at securing his future.

Still, in the bottom of his stomach was again that jumbled feeling he couldn’t quite name—something like anger, or disgust, something… vile. His manager was right. You had become a distraction, through no action of your own. But the filthy thoughts that went through your head at the sight of him, all which you’d written down and he’d read… it excited and repulsed him all at once.

And these emotions all ran through him as he sobbed in your arms, a quiet solace from the world. Things were broken now.

But in this moment, Franco could act as if none of that was true. He broke the embrace and finally looked you in the eyes.

Your stomach turned with butterflies. He was so beautiful, even with his puffy bloodshot eyes and gentle blush dancing across his cheeks.

And as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, he gently cupped your chin, bringing your face to his, and kissed you.

The kiss was slow and tentative, soft, like you were something fragile. And this moment was fragile, evidenced by the silent peace between you when the kiss ended and you pulled away, staring at each other. 

Franco was about to go in for another when his manager knocked on the door. 

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, and the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wordlessly got up and left with her, leaving you alone in his driver’s room.

You were scared of what would happen when he returned, so you spent the rest of the day in Williams hospitality before leaving the track alone.

You never saw Franco again at the track, but you figured he was in deep shit for his crashes, and that you should keep your distance. But sitting in hospitality, your mind in the clouds as you heard the celebrations of Max Verstappen’s win in the distance, you were haunted by the feeling of Franco’s lips on yours.

It was soft, caring, full of… no. You couldn’t say it. 

You felt like there was a stone in your throat. You needed Franco now, but at the same time, you were terrified of what would happen the next time you saw him. So you left and went back to the hotel alone. You knew your usual routine; dinner together, spending a bit of time in his hotel room, then going to bed and heading home on separate flights.

And even though your journal had long left your mind, you imagined what would happen that night in his hotel room.

Another kiss, but rougher this time, more sure of what he wanted; and what he wanted was you. Hands wandering, hitched breaths, waking up next to each other in the morning light.

You felt like you were going to faint. But he never came by that night. No text, no call, no tentative knock on your door.

And even in the morning when you checked out of the hotel and made your way to the airport, still nothing.

You had hoped when you landed and turned your phone off airplane mode that you’d find a notification from him, but your texts were empty.

A day turned into a week. One week turned into two. No word from him. All your messages left on delivered.

It took you two weeks to get him on the phone. You had to call him out of the blue; that was the only time he answered you.

“Hello? YN? Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine. Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you—”

He cut you off. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know,” you answered, slowly, as to not cause an argument. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You paused. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He paused too, but his pause was more awkward than peaceful. Clearly what had happened in Brazil had changed things, to a point where even a phone call felt stiff and unnatural.

You continued, “Do you maybe want to get dinner this weekend? Our usual place?”

It was a neutral enough offer, something that would be absurd of him to refuse. 

“Yeah, let's do that. I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” His tone was cool, but you took any opportunity you had for connection. He had said yes to your invitation; that was enough.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to you, Franco was losing his fucking mind. 

He didn’t know why he had kissed you in his driver’s room. It was like he wasn’t in control of his body. But how beautiful was the result; his lips pressed to yours, so softly, felt like heaven. He relished every second of the slow and chaste kiss as if it would be his last.

And when his manager had ruined the moment, he realized that it might be. He snapped back into reality as he rushed down the hallways of the paddock with her. She was clearly pissed. She led him back to a small meeting room. The room was empty, but he knew soon the whole team would be there, and he walked in like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Before he had even sat, she took her place at the head of the conference table, small but imposing. He was in big trouble. 

She inhaled deeply before beginning.  “Franco, are you okay?”

He nodded. 

“Say it.”

“I’m okay. I’m so sorry, I—”

“You were distracted.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“But it’s the truth.” He was silent. She continued, “Look, I get it. You don’t have much experience driving in the rain. You wanted to switch to wets, I heard the radio. You tried your best during the race.”

He fiddled nervously with his hair like a child being scolded, not even able to meet her eyes. 

“I’m not upset that you crashed. Five other drivers crashed too. What I am pissed about is the media shitstorm that you’ve created. First that stunt last night, then crashing this morning? And I know you were distracted then, because you weren’t talking at all on the radio and then I saw you staring at YN before your last lap. What is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” She was right. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He paused, stretching and scratching the back of his neck. He had always tried to keep his personal and professional lives separate, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that he couldn’t do that for much longer. 

“I… things are just… weird with me and YN lately.”

“I can tell.”

He gathered his courage before his confession. “I think I’m in love with her.”

His manager sighed. “I figured.”

She sat, a more sympathetic expression crossing her face. She explained, “Look, we all love YN. She’s always been there for you. I’m not trying to tell you what you need to do in your personal life, you’re an adult. But I think you know what needs to be done.”

He did know. But he was so scared. So terrified of the unknown future now. He couldn’t even speak it. 

His manager continued, “Well, after today, it’ll be hard to salvage the Redbull contract. But we have interest from other teams, too. Alpine, mostly. You still have a shot at a seat for next year. We can do this.”

She reached over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He smiled and nodded, knowing there was much work ahead to be done.

And that work had truly kept him busy in the following days, though not too busy to reach out to you. He just couldn’t do it. He knew if he gave himself anything he’d fall too far in. You consumed his every waking thought—but he couldn’t bring himself to respond to your messages.

Instead, he spent his late, sleepless nights online, reading what everyone was saying about him. A horrible decision, in retrospect.

The commentators had thrown him under the bus, calling him underdeveloped and inexperienced. Hundreds of people calling him “crashpinto” and saying he didn’t deserve his seat. To them, maybe lighthearted, but to him, it meant everything he had ever worked for becoming a mockery on Twitter. 

When you called, he picked up on instinct. You never called out of the blue unless it was bad.

But you had just wanted to hear his voice.

Fuck.

He couldn’t do this. He knew he couldn’t do this. His manager had told him. The entire internet was telling him. But he agreed to see you that weekend anyway. 

At least, that was the plan. But Saturday came and went and no word from him, no knock on your door, no answered text. Even a call went straight to voicemail—he had declined it.

All week, you had been looking forward to seeing him. You were wearing that dress you’d always fantasized about, the one that was his favorite color, the only one you felt truly beautiful in.

You had gotten dolled up for dinner. You wanted to finally tell him how you felt.

And he stood you up.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. How could you not? Franco was sending you mixed signals and you couldn’t do it anymore. 

But when you woke up, it was worse.

A million notifications. At least, that's how it felt. Disoriented, you opened your phone to a video from last night; Franco, walking around Madrid, with an actress. He had stood you up for someone else.

And not just any someone. You had heard of this Argentine actress. She was…controversial. Older. Beautiful.

And Franco had spent the night with her. At least, from the video and comments, that’s what you would assume. They were seen outside his apartment. He was reportedly very…talkative with her. Touchy.

You wanted to puke. The comments didn’t make it any better.

FRANCO BABY GET AWAY FROM HER

How could he do that to YN? 

I know he and YN weren’t official but if a man danced with me in the rain one week and was caught with the most problematic actress of Argentina the next, I’d commit an act of violence.

He is so fucking stupid, does he really think this is gonna help his PR after Brazil?

OMG they are so cute! They could be Argentina’s power couple <3

The last comment made you cringe. The replies to it were not kind.

You read through far too many comments before checking your texts. No message from Franco, of course. But from someone else: his mother.

Call me when you can xx

You took a moment to compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you dialed her number. 

Her voice on the other line was comforting. 

“YN, dear, how are you?”

“Hi,” you said, “I’m… I’m okay.” You lied, and she knew it.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not really okay. Franco has been acting…odd lately.”

“I know. That’s what I called to ask about. I’m sure you’ve seen the video?”

You swallowed hard, as if you could force the pain down to your stomach and ignore it. “I have.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I haven’t heard from him for weeks, since Singapore. I thought I raised him better than this. The press is saying he was covering his face in the video because he didn’t want us, his own family, to know.”

“Seriously?” you questioned, aghast. But your shock was also at the implication of the statement—us, his own family. Even his mother considered you part of the family. But you were invisible to him, it seems. 

“Yes!” She responded. “And for good reason. I’ve never seen his father so angry. He’s throwing away his whole career for some… woman. He’s distracted.”

That word: distracted. It felt more powerful now than ever before. 

“I mean, he hasn’t seemed like himself lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I don’t either. I actually wanted to ask you to check in on him. He isn’t answering anyone, but I just need someone to talk some sense into him. Just go over to his apartment. If I was there, I’d be on his doorstep with a wooden spoon.”

You could hear the frustration and restraint in her voice. The visual of Franco’s mom on his doorstep with a spoon ready to discipline him was almost comical, if not given the context.

“I’ll try. But if he’s not listening to his own mother, I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”

“Well, if you at least try, that’s enough.” She sighed. “YN, I’m so worried for him.”

“So am I.”

The line grew quiet. You could tell his mother had more to ask, but was restraining herself. You were grateful; you didn’t have the energy to tell the insane back and forth you’d undergone with him in the past few days. You were exhausted. 

So you bid each other goodbye and you readied yourself to go to Franco’s apartment and confront him. This couldn’t go on forever. 

You were surprised that he ever even answered the door. You knocked tentatively at first.

“Franco, it’s YN. Let me in.”

He wordlessly shuffled to the door and opened it, not even stopping to greet you as he went back to his couch to scroll on his phone. 

“Hi,” you greeted, awkwardly, as he was clearly uninterested. He just gave you a small nod.

You sat down next to him. You weren’t quite sure what to say. You opened your mouth to begin, but he cut you off.

“If you’re just here to lecture me, don’t.”

“I’m not here to lecture you.” Except, you kinda were. “Franco… everyone’s worried about you. I’m worried, your mom is worried too. She asked me to check in on you.

He placed his phone down and laughed, an exclamation dripping with sarcasm and contempt. “I’m sure she did.”

“Franco—”

“No, she sent you over here to come scold me, didn’t she?”

“No,” you lied. “You’re just not acting like yourself—”

“No, don’t start with that. You’re here to tell me how badly I fucked up, aren’t you? Well you can save it. The entire internet and all my managers and sponsors and everyone else on the planet beat you to it.”

“Franco, will you let me talk?” You asked.

He ignored your question. “I already fucked up my chances at a Redbull seat, so might as well just keep doing it, right? Go big or go home.”

“Don’t you still have a chance with Alpine?” You had heard the rumors. It didn’t matter, though. Franco still had a chance at a seat, yes, but he was no longer the golden boy of F1, the perfect replacement for the driver that always crashed.

“Why does it matter? Redbull or Alpine or… Chinese F4 or whatever the people come up with. It’s over.”

In an ordinary conversation, you would have chuckled. But this was no laughing matter.

“Franco, everyone's rooting for you. We all want you to succeed, and we know you can. I know you can. I believe in you. Why are you doing this?”

He paused. “Doing what?”

You weren’t quite sure how to answer that. Ignoring you? Kissing you? Or spending the night with another woman?

“Doing things that hurt your reputation.”

“What, are you worried about the brand?”

“Yes. I am. And you should be, too.”

“Oh, fuck off. If you were really worried about ‘the brand’ you wouldn’t have been acting like you did in Brazil.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was full of pain. He’d never used that kind of language or cruel tone with you before.

“Acting like we’re a couple.”

“Franco, you initiated all of that.” The truth cut through both of you, leaving you raw and vulnerable. “And I thought you meant it. Was it all just… a lie?”

It couldn’t be. The dancing was public. But the kiss had to be real. Away from the cameras, the scrutiny, the potential of what could be. Just you and him. Two people who loved in each other—but in what exact way, it was impossible for you to know.

His only response was curt. “Don’t ask me that,” he whispered.

Silence blanketed the room for a moment.

“The actress,” you asked, “Do you love her?” It was a simple question, asked while still ignoring the elephant in the room of what had really happened in Brazil. 

“Why do you care?” he asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

You looked at him with bewilderment. “I care because I’m your friend! She has the potential to ruin your reputation, so I mean, it’s kind of different depending on if she’s the love of your life or just a quick fuck.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so concerned about my love life. I don’t ask about yours.” 

You weren’t quite sure where his agitation was coming from, but it shocked you nonetheless. You responded back with your own passive aggression. “That’s because I don’t have one, Franco. I’m too busy flying around the world watching you race to go on dates.” It was true. But you left out the obvious fact that you were in love with him.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“You asked me to be here!” His words cut sharper than a knife. He had practically begged for you to be there. 

“Well, if it’s such a bother, then don’t come to the last three races. I need to focus, anyway.”

“It's not a bother. I enjoy being there! Franco, I’m just trying to talk to you, please don’t take out your anger on me.”

“You’re not trying to talk. You’re trying to tell me what to do, just like everyone else does. You all act like I’m a stupid child who can’t make any decisions on my own.”

Your anger grew. “Maybe it’s because you make decisions like this! You have a reputation to uphold and you’re choosing to associate with people like her?”

“You’re just jealous,” he said, with a thick venom in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat. You pushed your nervousness down and let anger replace it. In an equally snarky tone, you rolled your eyes and replied, “Look, obviously you’re not going to acknowledge whatever happened between us in Brazil. But I am not jealous. I’m your friend and I want to help you. And besides, not every woman wants to fuck you, Franco.”

“Oh, but you do.”

If your heart had skipped a beat before, it had just dropped into your stomach now. Was it that obvious? Before you could even summon any rebuttal, Franco continued, “You know what actually happened in Brazil? You found me out. I stole your little diary when you left it in my driver’s room. And I read every fucking word.”

All the color had drained from your face. Every single word—where you had declared your love for him, and written all your fantasies about ravishing him and him ravishing you. Every fear and frustration and moment of sadness that you had poured into that journal; he had read it. 

“What, nothing to say now?” he snapped at you. 

He was right; what could you say when your best friend had crossed a line, only to find out that you had crossed the line so much further?

You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t have the strength to push them away as you had always done. What was the point, anymore? 

Your only response came out like a sad whisper. “Why would you do that?”

But clearly, he felt no sympathy for you. “Why would you do that?” he retorted. “Everyone tells me constantly that you’re a distraction. And they’re right. Because I’m trying to win points and you’re in my driver’s room writing fantasies about us fucking. And then I crash and lose everything and you want to act like you’re so innocent, just wanting to help. Well I know what you really want. And it’s disgusting.”

For a second, you really thought Franco was insane. Somehow, he had managed to manipulate the situation into making this your fault. 

But if he had truly read every word, how could he come to the conclusion that all you wanted was his body? How could he not understand how deeply you loved him?

In mere moments, a million ways to convey this went through your head, But it was no use. He was beyond the point of reason. And your friendship was beyond saving.

You had nothing to say, and it felt like if you didn’t get out of there right that second, you’d go insane. “I think I should just go…” you muttered as you turned to grab your things and exit his apartment. 

“No, you don’t get to do that! You don’t get to just run away from this.”

Your anger returned at his refusal to let you go. “If you can do whatever you want, then why can’t I?” 

This time it was him who was silent. 

Just as you were finally about to leave, you heard his voice behind you, “I’ll prove you wrong.”

His four simple words released the flood of your anger. You turned to him. “Prove me wrong? All I’ve tried to do is tell you that you’re wrong, that you still have a chance to save this if you do the right thing. But what if you don’t, Franco? What if you don’t get a seat for next year? You know what will happen? She’ll leave you. And the entire world will forget about you, everyone except for me, because I’ve always been here, even when you were nothing. But this is how you treat me, you’re mean and you lie to me and you betray my trust and you blame everything on me! So don’t come crying to me when everything falls apart.”

And so you left. And that was that. 

The next few days went past like a blur.

You could only remember small snippets. A set of emails; your VIP passes had been revoked, your flights and hotel reservations canceled. 

A video of him kissing her in a nightclub. A video of her going home with another man. Rumors. Pain. 

All of the sudden, you weren’t in his life anymore. But life just…went on.

You knew it would be best to just get off social media for good, now. Try to move on with your life. But you couldn’t help it. You watched the gossip pages, the F1 updates, his own page.

His comments were full of angry people, lambasting the actress or trying to defend you. His managers even had to issue a statement.

In your head you could hear his manager’s voice, scolding him. You knew exactly what she’d say.

And halfway across the world at the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you were right.

The few days in between the video of the actress, his argument with you, and the Grand Prix weekend felt like a century. But he was here, for better or for worse.

Still, the icy glare of his manager cut through him. He’d gotten an earful after the video leaked. The tension still hadn’t settled. 

But media day had gone fairly well; little mention of you or the actress. In fact, everything had gone smooth—a little too smooth, going into qualifying. 

One last meeting before he’d have to get to the garage. The garage itself had felt oddly…quiet, without you there. Yes, he’d canceled everything in the hot aftermath of your argument. 

But he couldn’t ignore your absence, like a hole in his chest.

He went in and out of focus—he was doing that a lot, these days—as the meeting dwindled and staff filtered out of the room one by one, until again it was just Franco and his manager.

She felt the tension in the room, and knew it was a delicate balance. The wrong mention at the wrong time could ruin everything. So she didn’t mention your name, knowing that it could affect his performance.

“Hey, kid,” she teased him, “You’ve got this. You’ve been through a lot—Hell, you’ve put me through a lot, but you’ve still got three more weeks to show the world what you can do. And I believe in you.”

He only gave her a reassuring smile before he went to the garage. 

The smile was fake. He knew it. She knew it. Maybe the fans knew it. 

You certainly knew it, watching the Sky Sports broadcast from home. It was an odd duality; you couldn’t stop watching, but every time they showed Franco, you felt like you’d been stabbed right in the heart. 

And across the world, Franco felt that same pain. His manager hadn’t brought you up, but her words were far too similar to yours. I believe in you.

Of course she did. That was her job. But you? You believed in him when he was fourteen and couldn’t figure out how to wash his clothes alone. You believed in him when he was sick and when he crashed and when he fucked everything up. 

Everything you had said just echoed in his mind, over and over, every night. He hadn’t been sleeping well. 

But this was his own fault. He had ruined it. He had read the journal. He had revoked your VIP passes. 

He had no one to blame but himself. And it was eating him alive.

When he was younger, he fell in love with racing because of the freedom it gave him. When he was in the car, it was just him and the road. No one could touch him—he could drive into oblivion if he wanted to.

But now, even in the former bliss of that sacred space of his F1 car, his shoulders were weighed down by the weight of all he had done. 

The quali session was almost over when he crashed. 

There were no words anymore. He retired the car and went back to the garage in silence.

At home, you just cried. There was nothing else you could do. 

It wasn’t long before Franco heard a familiar knock at his driver’s room door—his manager. He had spoken to the media, answered all the questions perfectly. But he had cost the team more time and money. He had let everyone down.

He opened the door without speaking a word, bracing for his scolding. 

But when his manager entered, her expression was not one of anger. “Franco, talk to me. What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know. I just lost control of the car and—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He paused, a strange sense of deja vu washing over him. He sat down and brought his head to his hands. The words wouldn’t come out.

“Where is YN?”

“She’s not here.”

His manager’s tone grew angrier. “Yeah, I’m aware. Where is she?”

“At home.”

“Why isn’t she here? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Franco said, his frustration growing at his manager’s insistence. 

“Well, obviously something happened, because she’d have to be dead or in jail to not be attending one of your F1 races.”

He looked up, furrowing his brow. “You told me to do what I have to do. So I did.”

“She didn’t take it well? That's… surprising.”

His anger was now tinged with confusion. “Well, most people don’t take it well when they’re called a distraction.”

“...Franco, did you tell her that?”

“Yes, that’s what you wanted me to do!”

“Oh my—no, God, Franco, that’s not what I meant!”

The driver got up, ready to angrily speak with his hands. His manager didn’t cower one bit. She asked, “Franco, what the hell did you tell her?”

“I told her she was a distraction and that she didn’t need to come to the last races. And I told her that she doesn’t need to scold me because you already do that enough. I did what I had to do, exactly what you told me to do!”

His manager took a deep breath. “When I said that you should do what you had to do, I meant that you needed to sit down and tell her how you feel.”

Oh.

She continued, “Yes, you were distracted because of your feelings for her. But she isn’t a distraction. She’s your friend, right? And you love her. So why would you say that to her?”

He began, “I—I don’t know. I don’t…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, Franco. What has gotten into you?”

He couldn’t even speak. 

“Is there any chance in hell that this can be smoothed over before the race next week?”

He shook his head. No. Not after he had deliberately stood you up to go out with the actress. Not after he had spent the night with her, imagining your lips on his instead of hers. Not after everything he had said. Not after he’d rescinded his gift he’d worked so hard to give you by univiniting you to all the remaining races.

No, things were definitely not going to be smoothed over anytime soon. 

Qatar. Still no word from him. 

You’d contemplated reaching out a few times, but every time you’d gather up the courage, you’d remember what he said. There was no point anymore.

He crashed within the first laps of the race. It wasn’t even his fault, but still. The damage was done. 

The once promising young driver was now the laughing stock of the internet from all the work he’d made for the Williams’ mechanics. Unfortunately for your mental health, you’d still been keeping up with F1 news. 

Your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Has anyone else noticed that since YN hasn’t been at races, Franco hasn’t been performing well?

REPLY: Yeah, he does seem kind of off, even in interviews :(

REPLY: He didn’t do well in Brazil and she was there tho

REPLY: Yeah, but Brazil was a mess, no one except Max did well

REPLY: Call me parasocial but I 100% believe that he confessed his feelings and she didn’t reciprocate them. Why else would he immediately crash twice, hook up with a famous actress, and then YN isn’t at any races?

You laughed from the sheer absurdity of it all. Their assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. 

But time kept passing, like your entire world hadn’t been destroyed.

And again, as Franco traveled across the globe for races, his world was crumbling too.

It was becoming apparent that he wouldn’t get a seat for 2025. His time in F1—at least, for now—was coming to an end. And you were gone.

As he checked into his hotel room in Abu Dhabi, he could feel that familiar weight coming to rest on him. It hadn’t let up through the entire triple header. 

And when he was alone in his room, he couldn’t hide from it anymore.

You were just a phone call away. All he had to do was press a button and apologize. You were kind—he’d always loved that about you—you’d forgive him.

Or maybe you wouldn’t. Or maybe you couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought. So he didn’t call. Instead he tried to shake it off and take a shower, washing away the grit and grime of the airport, and the metaphorical dirt that now clung to him, the guilt of all he’d ruined. 

But even in the shower, his thoughts wandered to you, back in Brazil. You had held him, and he buried his head in your shoulder, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth of your embrace. 

His hand trailed from his hair, where he was rinsing out his shampoo, to lower on his body, over his toned stomach and the happy trail that dotted his stomach.

He imagined his hand was yours.

No. This was wrong. But you had done it, hadn’t you?

He finished his shower in record time. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed in just a towel, he remembered that night in Singapore.

Had you thought about him like this? You must have. Yes, he remembered, you wrote about it. 

He had kept the journal. It was there, in his backpack, at his feet. 

He didn’t even think when he did it, reaching down to grab the small leather bundle of sin, letting his towel fall to the floor and not bothering to pick it up. 

Climbing on the bed, he opened the journal again. His hand gripped his aching cock, but God, how he wished it was yours. 

He read. I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. 

Yes, he remembered. The memory of your closeness made his hard length twitch. His eyes darted further down the page. 

So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

He pumped himself up and down, slowly at first, then harder as your words got filthier. He imagined the scene; you on top of him, his hand being yours. God, how badly he wanted you, no, needed you right now. 

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. 

Yes, he was yours. His body was yours. His mind was yours. Everything that he was, was yours. How badly he wished he could tell you that. But all he could do now was keep himself on the edge, denying himself the sweet release as you’d imagined. 

He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

He mimicked the scene when his hips jerked involuntarily, eliciting a low groan from his throat as he released all the pent up anger and frustration. He hadn’t meant to finish this early, but your words and the memory of your lips on his had an effect on him that he couldn’t control. 

But even as his breathing slowed and he moved to clean up the evidence of his debauchery, he couldn’t help but wonder how you’d punish him for disobeying your commands.

God, he fucking missed you. 

Even with the clarity of his release, he didn’t seem to be thinking clearly. His phone still lay open, the screen on your contact. 

One phone call. That’s all it would take. One phone call and you could be there at the end of it all, just as you’d always been there at the start.

But he still couldn't do it. 

He tapped the settings icon and hit “block caller.”

[tsukimefuku]

CHAPTER THREE PT. II: DIMINISHED CAPACITY ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni! | oopsie, is that... a special banner? gee I wonder if there's something to see at the end of this chapter, huh?

❀ diminished capacity.

Diminished capacity refers to an individual’s impossibility to form the intent necessary for committing any criminal act, because their capacity to fully comprehend the nature of their actions is impaired. It doesn’t, however, completely exclude their responsibility, and they may be held accountable to a lesser offense.

wc: 5.5K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. slow-burn romcom. professor and college student pre-relationship. internship interviews suck. nobara likes to steal food from people. mentions of hypothetical violent crime. nanami gets pestered by gojo even here. higuruma likes sunflowers. nanami has a sixth sense.

❀ notes etc.

Apologies to any colleagues reading the word “evidence” in place of “proof” and feeling like tackling me with a broom, lol. Also, a huge thanks to everyone who came around for part one, I hope you guys get to enjoy reading this just as much I enjoyed writing it.

Argh… Monday.

Internship hunt was hell. There was no other way to spin that wheel. You knew it’d be incredibly hard, but not this hard.

Mondays were cursed days, but to know that not only cursed, they’d also start with terrible interviews — plural — was not in your bingo card for this week. Between  oh, you just started criminal law I this semester? and we will let you know laid the crumbling sounds of your utmost despair of knowing full well you were in for a ride for those next few days.

Well, if only daydreaming about him could save you.

It didn’t, though.

Unfortunately.

You arrived at the campus cafeteria where you were supposed to meet Nobara. Even on a fairly uncomfortable chair, she slouched nearly enough to slide down onto the ground like a rag doll, and it didn’t take you much to realize these past few days were throwing her through the wringer too.

“You look like death,” you joked as you pulled your chair to sit with her, putting your tuna sandwich and can of soda over the table.

“And you look like… like… hmph,” she scoffed while rolling her eyes and propping herself back up again.

“No snarky comeback? Are you that tired?” 

“Leave me alone,” she replied, and apparently, she really wasn’t in the mood for playful banter. You took a bite out of your sandwich, pondering if you should ask her about it, but she beat you to it. “Why is getting internships this early in college is so damn hard?”

“Apparently, places don’t trust complete newbies or youngsters,” you noted, “and they want someone who has already studied all the necessary subjects prior to hiring. Also, people with prior experience are preferred.” 

“Yet these are internship opportunities! Aren’t interns supposed to be newbies who are going to learn from the experience they’ll get through the internship?” Nobara irritatedly inquired, her implied commentary more a complaint than a question. You nodded.

“Absolutely. It makes no sense, it’s like they’re just trying to hire a junior lawyer with less rights and a lower pay rate,” you churned out through your mouthful of tuna and mayonnaise, “now that I think about it, it’s probably that, actually.” 

“I can’t go back home! I mean, I made it all the way here. If I had to go back I would never get over this. I need some money, and I need some money soon, otherwise this will all just have been a waste of my time. I should just get a part time job already instead of insisting in starting my internship as fast as possible.” 

Nobara covered her face, and she sounded genuinely upset. You paused your munching for a bit, and after washing it all down with a few gulps of soda, you leaned towards her, pulling her hands from her face.

“Hey, Nobara, we’re not letting that happen, okay? Neither me, Maki, Yuuji or Megumi.” you offered in an attempt to comfort her. She let you peel her palms away, and gazed at you in a mixture of frustration and anger, which softly subsided after your comment. You decided to push your luck, just a bit. “We can refugee you in Megumi’s car. We’ll get you a hammer so you can hit passerbies for shits and giggles to let some collegiate steam out.” 

Consternated, she shook your hands off of her while you chuckled. She made her best effort to still look pissed, but you noticed a tiny smile forming on the edges of her mouth.

“That’s a shit plan, but I’ll take you up on that hammer offer,” she said, and you smiled at her, a gesture she finally reciprocated.

“I’d expect no less from you. So, tell me, in which area are you looking for internships? Fashion law?” 

“Nope, entertainment.” Nobara picked your half eaten sandwich in her hands and took a bite before you could protest. “Maki had told me it was easier to get internships in entertainment law to garner some experience for a future in fashion law, but honestly? I’m skeptical now.” 

“There might be some openings soon. Have you tried Professor Gojo’s firm? It’s the same as Professor Nanami’s, isn’t it? I mean, that giant firm with dozens of departments and that nearly every teacher at our college seems to work for.” You stretched your hand to get your sandwich back, but she slapped you away. “Hey!” 

“I need it more than you, I’m sad!” 

“I’m sad too! I had four terrible internship interviews today, give it back!” 

You both entered a silly slapping match, and the few people walking past the table would look away nervously in fear of getting dragged into the middle of whatever war was going on over a cheap cafeteria tuna sandwich.

“You were having interviews today too?! How come you never told me?! I’m gonna eat your food for not telling me stuff, you’ve been weird ever since that party that you went off for a smoke and dipped!” She took another humongous bite and you jumped over the table, finally snatching whatever remained of your food out of her hands.

“I haven’t been weird!” you had, “and yes, I did. I am interviewing for internship openings in criminal law, but… well, you’ve been through that these days yourself. You know the drill.” 

She grunted with tuna smeared around her mouth, trying to reach for the rest of your sandwich, and it was your turn to slap her.

“Stop it, Nobara. Quit being so stingy and buy one for yourself!” 

“Not when I can eat your food for free,” she joked while taking a big gulp from your soda can, and you sighed, which only gave her a shit eating grin. “Did you interview for that spot they announced today?” 

“What? What opening?”

“I just saw it, there was a new flyer on the main hall board. It’s an internship for criminal law, apparently under the guidance of Professor Geto,” Nobara said while shrugging. “Apparently the huge firm now has a criminal law department too. It was announced last week or so.” 

“Did it say up until when they were taking applications?” 

***

Each and every tendon in your body tensed as you sat with the perfect lady-like crossed ankles at the 45º angle under your second-hand suit. The meeting room was, for the lack of a better word, mighty, having an entire glass wall peering into the rest of the office, and towered over you high enough to have you feeling like a tiny speck of dust humbly drifting its way over the clearly expensive brown, leather couch. A few people walked by as you waited, and the mahogany table seemed big enough to fit three people. It was probably worth your entire year’s tuition, and you wondered if the ceiling height really needed to be tailored for elves. Or ents. Tree people, perhaps.

The firm’s name hung high right in front of you, the logo and letters made out of stainless steel illuminated by LEDs behind it. Opulence wasn’t a big enough word to describe that pompous display of corporate wealth.

You were fished out of your rags to riches daydreams by the pivoting door opening, figuring it was your interviewer for the position. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the already well-known foxy-eyed, long haired Professor to come in, but a much more stoic individual with the polar opposite for a hair, not only in length but in color too. You already knew him from afar, as your commercial law Professor. He carried himself in a dignified manner, and upon further inspection, not only was his navy blue suit absolutely pristine, he also didn’t have a single hair strand out of place. You got up to greet him, bowing respectfully, and he returned the gesture.

“Good afternoon, Mrs.,” he said as he sat down on his chair across from you, “my name is Nanami Kento and I’ll be responsible for your interview today.”

You introduced yourself, and remarked, “apologies, but I thought Prof- I mean, Mr. Geto would be the one responsible for this interview today.”

 “As it stands currently, the criminal law department is my responsibility,” Nanami clarified, “so I decided I’d be the one responsible for interviewing our future team. I currently work in our corporate law department.”

You acquiesced with a professional smile. Something about how every tiny detail in him was on point gave you enough leads to conclude that of course this man took it upon himself to be the one responsible for the interviews.

“I’ve read in your resume that you are currently undertaking criminal law I and criminal procedure law I,” Nanami said as he held your resume in his hand, glancing at you and then at the paper, “which isn’t ideal for an intern entering a newly built department.”

Harsh enough?

You readjusted yourself on your chair before speaking.

“Yes, I am.”

He hummed quietly and pulled another paper sheet from his briefcase, and even if his facial expression was perfectly collected, something about how the edges of his lips curled gave away that he was less than happy about whatever was written on it.

“Our HR insisted I should bring this questionnaire with me today, so that I could ask you this list of questions as part of our interview,” he stated, his words followed by a quiet sigh. Nanami then proceeded to tilt the paper towards him and took a moment before proceeding. “Tell me more about yourself in three… captivating anecdotes.”

His voice sounded robotic, as if he was feigning not to loathe the question at hand, and deep down, you did find it amusing. Not enough to distract yourself from the fact that you were usually horrible at interviews altogether, though.

“I’m currently in my late twenties. I started law school last year, and worked during my early twenties to save money for tuition. I’m really passionate about criminal law, that is why I applied.”

Oh, God. What was that?

Well, you sounded robotic too, listing off obvious factualities as if providing a recipe’s ingredients. Both of you stared at each other in silence, wondering if that was what this question was supposed to infer, and it took the two of you so long to speak up again that it became uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat, Nanami unconsciously loosened his tie — barely — before continuing.

Well, at least I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable.

“What…” he paused for a moment, and seemed to be biting down a discontented sigh, “animal would you be?” His gaze quickly darted down the sheet of paper, and his displeasure was palpable. For someone with such a straight face, his eyes were very telling.

What are these questions? Are we a hip tech company? Nanami thought to himself, wondering if he should make a new list to leave at HR. He was quick to discard the thought once he realized that meant he’d be telling other people how to do their jobs, something he did enough of already.

You didn’t quite know what the hell to answer.

“I… don’t know? I haven’t really thought about that in my life? A cat, perhaps?”

“I haven’t thought about that either, don’t worry, that’s unimportant. Let’s move on to the next question. How…” Nanami lifted an eyebrow, and that alone was enough to tell he was absolutely consternated, “many basketballs can fit inside a bus?”

“… Huh?”

Is this serious?

“I apologize, I believe there must have been some sort of mix-up at the HR, let me…”

Nanami was interrupted by three knocks on the glass wall. You both turned your heads to see Professor Gojo pointing at something — the paper Nanami held in his hands — while subsequently making a thumbs up, a wide grin smeared all over his face.

Without uttering a word nor missing a beat, Nanami got up, walked towards the glass and pulled on something you hadn’t yet noticed. Immediately, blinds slowly descended in front of the glass wall, and Nanami calmly walked his way back to his chair as Gojo’s face tried to keep peering inside the meeting room, descending alongside the rim of the blinds. He kept plastering his hands over the glass like a mimic.

A faint pained moan and a thud echoed once the blinds were about a foot away from reaching the floor.

“Is everything okay?” you inquired, pointing at Gojo’s direction.

“Ignore that.”

That wasn’t a request. You nodded. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect. Let’s also ignore this for a while,” Nanami remarked while putting the sheet of questions aside with his fingertips as if it was radioactive. “Let’s try something else.”

Nanami had this feeling — a familiar one — that he’d be able to pry from you what he needed to know if he went about this interview in a more practical fashion. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I’m going to describe a hypothetical scenario, and I want you to debate it with me,” he stated.

“Okay.”

“A client comes to this office being investigated of homicide and he wants to hire the firm to represent them in Court. They intend to plead not guilty.” you nodded, and Nanami continued, “The victim was shot, but there was no gun to be found in the crime scene. However, the client was the only person in the vicinity apart from the victim’s body. The client’s clothes — a long sleeved shirt and jeans — are evidence that has been collected at the crime scene, but no forensics were requested for it by the prosecution. When questioned in their first meeting, the client is adamant that they did not commit the crime. The attorney needs to decide which path to take regarding evidence they’ll request or submit. Now, I ask you, which type of evidence would the attorney request if the client is truly innocent?”

You took a deep breath while mentally going over the hypothetical scenario Nanami had just relayed, and considering all he mentioned, there was only one possibility.

“If my client was truly innocent, I’d ask for forensic evidence on their clothes. Guns leave gunpowder vestiges on things like clothes, so if this person didn’t actually pull the trigger, there should be no gunpowder on their sleeves.”

Nanami acquiesced, but remained silent. 

Ok, this is not the only thing he wants to know.

“Also… I’d tell exactly that to the client.”

Nanami’s face remained completely expressionless, but something about how he tilted his head less than an inch gave you the feeling that he seemed pleased with your answer.

“And why would you do that?”

“We need to work with accurate information. If the client was lying, and we submitted a request for that evidence — forensics on their clothes — we’d be tanking their defense. They need to know what we’ll be submitting as evidence and why. I believe telling that to our client would be enough to sway them into telling us the truth,” you sighed, before concluding, “people lie. Even when they shouldn’t.”

Nanami silently picked your resume back into his hands, and seemed to scan it quickly with his eyes. You knew your chances were slim, considering you had just started Criminal Law that very semester, something he didn’t fail to notice.

After a minute, he spoke again.

“Would you be willing to use some of your spare time to study topics you might not have seen yet in criminal law?”

“Yes.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest. This was it.

Here goes nothing.

“Then, it’s settled. Can you start on Monday?”

***

This wasn’t Higuruma’s usual go-to wish when he found himself behind the Passo’s wheel, but truth of the matter was, he hoped more than anything for his car to breakdown before he got to his destination. It wasn’t something completely out of the question considering his car’s track record, but as if some destiny’s mockery had been bestowed upon him that morning, even the clack-clack-clacks he was already used to hear for the past three months were gone. As Murphy’s Law would have it, the Passo glided over the asphalt like butter. 

“Of course you won’t fail me when I need you to, you unreliable piece of-”he muttered to himself under a discontented huff.

Put upon wasn’t strong enough to convey how Higuruma was feeling, his knuckle-white grip around the steering wheel being enough to give him a sharp pain in his palms that would surely follow him for the next few hours. In a sense, he had been knuckle-white tense ever since that morning, thinking about this endeavor he was kicking himself to push through. It was the nth time he’d tried to make that visit over the past year, one that he dreaded with each and every fiber of his being. 

The Professor eyed his passenger’s seat for a second, his gaze lingering on the plastic bag he carried with him that day. Inside, there were a bottle of Kirin, an incense, and a single sunflower. The flower was definitely too long to fit properly inside the bag, and it’s head peeped though the opening, yellow petals flickering while the car moved, every ridge on the road seemingly making it jump further and further out of its container.

With one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching out, he tried shoving the sunflower back into the bag, and in between eyeing the bag, then the road, picking the flower, pushing it, the bag sliding off the seat, loud news coming on the radio, Higuruma getting startled, his glasses slipping down his nose bridge, him pushing them back in place with his shoulder, tires screeching, a car horn, his heart pounding and his ears ringing, Higuruma came to the sensible conclusion that he should, as any responsible adult would, take a break.

I need a smoke.

Who he was visiting was definitely not going anywhere.

Checking where he was, Higuruma noticed a cafe nearby, and as fate would have it, there was a single parking spot right in front of it. He maneuvered the Passo, and the car fit neatly in between the white lines. Higuruma pulled his sunflower shawl — this time, not caught under any death trap, but laid over his back seat  alongside your scarf —, threw it around his neck and got out. He took a moment to stretch his fingers in the cold air, his breath clouding in front of his mouth, and tapped around his coat to take his wallet, finally inserting some coins into the park meter and crossing the guardrail by the sidewalk. 

He’d have exactly thirty minutes to get his shit together.

The cafe was warm, inviting, and strangely familiar, its orange light almost emanating the smell of coffee beans, croissants and decadent redemption for weary travelers. The store front had a glass display through which he saw an assortment of sweet and salty baked goods. Higuruma would probably pick one of those to eat — the greasiest one, if possible —, had he not been carrying a rock in place of his stomach for the past few hours.

With his resolution waning, he mindlessly took a step back while peeping, and sighed, his tired sigh weighing on his body deciding for him that an espresso was probably the way to go.

Stepping inside, Higuruma paid no mind to whatever was around him, and waited for his turn in line to order his drink. Across from him, you nearly choked, half a donut shoved into your powdered-sugar smeared mouth, nearly spilling your own coffee over your second-hand suit.

After your interview, you thought it’d be a good idea to have a snack, and made your way inside the closest, warmest, coziest cafe you found, which was across the firm. 

At that moment, you found yourself in a cliché adult life predicament — you just saw someone you knew, but they didn’t see you. Should you go over to greet them? Should you not? Would simply leaving be rude? Should you go actually talk to the man you definitely had — and shouldn’t have — a crush on?

You clutched your coffee harder as the thoughts flew around in your mind, as second nature at this point to avoid giving him another beverage shower.

After some quick consideration, you decided you would at least say hello, after all, it was the polite thing to do. You shoved the rest of your food into your mouth, washed it all down with the rest of your coffee, haphazardly cleaned around your mouth with a napkin and slowly walked towards him, stopping a few feet away. Somehow, he still hadn’t seen you, apparently too immersed in thought.

That was when you noticed a shawl around his neck.

It was pretty damn ugly.

“Professor, hi!” you greeted, and Higuruma got yanked out of whatever daydreams — or waking nightmares — he had been simmering in while waiting in line.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to meet anyone here,” Higuruma replied, “I just stopped by for a snack.”

“Oh, nice. Their coffee is pretty good,” you said, “I got the espresso.”

“And… I hope that you’re finished already? With your coffee, I mean.” he asked while checking your hands, his usually unaffected tone slightly playful, earning him a chuckle from you.

“Rest assured, I’m not assaulting you nor your ugly shawl with my coffee,” you quipped, but his eyes only widened. His owlish eyes blinked once, and then twice, in absolute silence.

That was when you realized.

Oh. I said that out loud.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Awfully hypocritical of both of us, huh?” he noted, with a discreet smile pulling on his lips. 

Relieved, realizing he hadn’t taken offense, you sheepishly returned his smile, “I guess so. I don’t think I’ll get to keep being hypocritical about our ugly scarfs, though. I can’t seem to find mine, it’s been gone ever since that party.”

It was like a light bulb went on in Higuruma’s mind, and he cleared his throat before saying, “well, I may just prove you wrong. Follow me.”

Not fully understanding what he meant by that, you stood by him while he paid for his coffee, got it and walked outside. The cold winter breeze prickled your cheeks and your uncovered neck like hair-thin razor blades, and you followed Higuruma towards a car that wasn’t all that strange to you. Upon further inspection, you noticed that it was indeed his car, the old navy blue beat up thing you used as a shield for the wind during that night when you tried and failed at least half a dozen times to light a cigarette.

And then met him, and gave him a vodka scare.

And helped patting him dry with your-

“Here,” he called out, opening the door to the back seat. Sure enough, you saw that red, frizzly old thing tangled up in a ball.

“My scarf!” you reached inside and took it out, instantly throwing it around your neck. Higuruma noticed how you were genuinely pleased to have finally found it, and thought to himself that he’d most likely feel the same way if he ever lost and found his beat up, old shawl. 

It was just one of those things imbued with a sense of history and familiarity that only beat up, old tokens from days past had.

“Thank you,” you whispered, while sliding your fingers through the worn out cotton. “It was a gift. I might complain about it more often than not, but-”

“But it’s an important part of your life,” he replied, and you both glanced at each other while you nodded.

“Yes. Something like that. It’s my favorite curse to carry around while complaining about it, you know?” you mused, adjusting it around your neck and gratefully welcoming the warmth it brought around your neck. 

“I think I do,” he answered finally, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Let me repay you,” you offered. “Can I offer you a snack, or anything? Perhaps a smoke?”

“I’ll take you up on that cigarette offer,” he replied, and you pulled your pack out of your coat. Giving it a few taps, a cigarette popped up, and you took it in your lips, pulling another one and handing it to him.

Against his better judgement, Higuruma was slightly disappointed, and for a second, felt like kicking himself over it.

Idiot, you can’t seriously be expecting her to light a cigarette for me every time she offers you a smoke. Actually, I shouldn’t expect that at all.

 Against his will, Higuruma felt his cheeks warming up, and he tried his best to dive his face into his shawl while politely took the cigarette off your hands. You didn’t notice his moves and offered him your lighter — the same yellow, disposable one he had given you days ago. He picked it up, lit his cigarette and returned it.

“I see you still have it,” Higuruma noted, smiling gently, and you acquiesced.

“It has been my faithful companion for these past few weeks. I’m just glad I haven’t lost it like I lost my scarf,” you said before chuckling.

Higuruma leaned over the guardrail with his elbows, finally relaxing after… God knows how long. Slowly, he seemed to be getting lost in thought, and you seized the opportunity to better look at his shawl.  It had a sunflower pattern that went in a straight line right in front of it.

Still looking around as he stewed in his silent contemplations, you noticed there was a bag laying on top of his passenger’s seat. Peeping through it, stood a single sunflower, and what seemed to be the top of a Kirin bottle.

A sunflower man, hm?

The thought amused you as the corners of your mouth perked up in a gleeful smile, but you were quickly pulled out from it.

“Do you work nearby?” he asked, while taking a drag from his cigarette. “This is far from campus.”

“No. I mean, not yet. I was just… chasing my dreams,” you remarked, puffing some smoke. “What about you, Professor?”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“I was being haunted by mine.”

You must’ve looked puzzled, because he quickly amended, “I was just on my way to visit someone and took a break for some coffee, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, realizing you were probably getting in his way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your appointment. I-”

“It’s okay, there’s no one waiting for me. Or so I like to think.”

That comment left you with more questions than answers.

“Apologies. I don’t mean to keep you from going about the rest of your day too,” he bid behind a curtain of smoke, “and thank you for the cigarette. I really needed it.”

With your final puffs, you put your cigarette out and smiled at Higuruma.

“It’s okay, Professor. I should really get going, though. We are, indeed, far from campus and I’d like to get to my dorm before it’s dark.”

With a bow, you walked away, leaving Higuruma to his own devices. He sighed, alone with himself and his thoughts once again, turning his attention once more to the bag he had inside his car.

“Hiromi,” a familiar voice called out. Higuruma turned around, only to be met by Nanami, who had a indecipherable expression on his face.

Minutes before, Nanami decided to visit the nearby cafe and check if they had his favorite casse croûte that day. He wouldn’t mind getting a croissant, though.

 Upon stepping outside his building with dreams of pastries swirling around his overworked mind, he noticed you and Higuruma outside the cafe, and figured that was the perfect opportunity to approach you both and introduce you as the new intern for the criminal law department. It was just a matter of time before Higuruma accepted his offer, as Nanami thought, and you’d be both working together. However, before he could, Nanami noticed you and Higuruma were chatting, and not only that, but you approached Higuruma’s car and got something — apparently belonging to you — from his back seat. The ugliest red scarf Nanami had ever seen.

… What?

Nanami then remembered that you were a student on the very same university he tended to.

The same one in which Higuruma was a teacher too.

Why does Hiromi have things belonging to a student in the backseat of his car, of all places?  

Nanami was at a loss for words, and faltered for a few moments, wondering how he should ask Hiromi about this. That is, if he even should ask Hiromi about anything at all. Nanami decided to watch from afar, and something about the way Higuruma was carrying himself bothered Nanami.

He had only seen his best friend behaving like that in very specific scenarios, ones in which Hiromi definitely shouldn’t be interacting with a student of his.

After you left, Kento finally walked towards Hiromi, still uncertain if he should question his friend about the nature of your relationship with him. He could be imagining things.

But something was definitely disturbing him, he was sure of it. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Kento, hi! Oh… I had forgotten, your firm is nearby, isn’t it?” Hiromi asked while looking around. “Sorry, I always seem to forget where it is. That explains why this cafe felt so familiar. Care for a smoke?”

“No.”

“You haven’t smoked with me in a long time,” Higuruma offered, pulling his own cigarette pack from his coat’s inner pocket. 

“I quit years ago,” Nanami reminded him, trying to put an end to this conversation detour.

“You still smoke on special occasions,” Higuruma offered, “eh, I wish I had your resolve.”

“You do, you just fail to direct it at things that will benefit you in the long run.”

“Just my little human shortcoming, I guess,” Higuruma finally replied, sparing Nanami a soft smile. He walked towards his car while unlocking it, “Let’s have something to eat, the coffee opened up my appetite. I just need to get more coins in case I end up going over the meter’s time limit, hold on.”

“Hiromi,” Nanami said once again, his tone graver than usual. That caught Higuruma’s attention.

“Hm, is everything okay?” Higuruma asked while leaning into his car.

Before Nanami could go on with his planned line of inquiry, he noticed what was over passenger’s seat. Especially the sunflower.

“Are you at it again?” Nanami asked, gesturing with his head towards it.

“Ah, you saw it…” Higuruma commented, as if he was a child being caught red handed while making a mess out of the house. “Well, yes. I’m trying to, and failing at it once again.”

“You know you don’t have to go, right?” Kento offered, while pulling some change from his pocket. “I have coins, we’ll be fine. Let me get you a snack, this cafe has the best casse croute around.”

“I do have to go, though,” Higuruma closed the door and stepped back onto the sidewalk. “I should, at least.”

Higuruma’s earlier energy seemed to wane ever so slightly, his shoulders falling while he slouched, unconsciously making himself smaller. 

“I don’t think I’ll manage to do it today, either,” he finally said, his eyes low on his feet, and his voice barely above a whisper.

Assessing the situation, it was clear that Higuruma was in no way in the right mindset to have that conversation regarding you, so Nanami put a mental note on it to ask about it at a later time. He stepped beside Hiromi and put a hand gently on his shoulder, sighing.

“Is it low tar?” Nanami questioned, clearing his throat to disguise his displeasure.

“Hm, what?”

“Your cigarette. Is it low tar?”

Higuruma huffed, a tiny smile forming on his lips as he said, “yes, yes it is.”

In a smooth motion, Higuruma pulled his pack back out of his coat and took two cigarettes out of it, handing one to Nanami along with a lighter. With the disposition of a man ready to face the electric chair, Kento pursed his lips around the cigarette, and lit it, only to be thrown in a coughing fit moments later.

“How the mighty do fall,” Higuruma noted with a discreet smirk on his lips, “you used to smoke more than me.”

“Shut up,” Nanami managed to churn out in between coughs, “this brand is awful.”

His friend chuckled while taking one long drag from his cigarette.

“Hey, Kento.”

“What?” Nanami considered tossing the cigarette as far as he could, but tried his best to survive it, even if just for Hiromi’s benefit.

“Is that offer still on the table? To…” Hiromi paused for a moment, clearing his throat, “hm, work in your firm?”

Managing to get his throat and lungs under control, Nanami glanced at Hiromi, knowing full well that good things came to those who wait.

Just like he had.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Hi, did you know I like to shamelessly plug people's work? No? So, yeah. I love doing that.

I got this STUNNING commission from @radish-breath and I have no shame to admit that I scrumpt a scream never screamt before when I got this 😭💜 I think you should go check out her work if you still haven't, lots of great sfw and nsfw pieces (all truly delectable 🤌) - Twitter | Patreon | Carrd.

Rad, once again (you already listened to me screeching like a banshee and ugly crying over it, lol), thank you very much for this amazing piece. It is beyond my wildest dreams alsdjasldkj

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Tag list (updated):

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@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @cmdrfupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider 

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @yeonjunarchives

@soft--cherry @quinnyundertow @traffi @shibataimu @shimadalluvia

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

extra: she’s really empathetic, she’d make a great wife.

➴ chapter warnings: rumors, mentions of cheating.

➴ word count: 2.9k

💌 from me to you: and today i reached 600 followers. may or may not have cried. thank you so much. i hope you enjoy this one, and thank you anon for giving me this idea, i hope i met your expectations!

𖧷

𖧷

JACK BLINKED slowly, as if he wasn’t really sure if what he was seeing was actually real.

He sat up straight, resting his naked back against the wooden headboard, staring at the girl in front of him.

Sophia was resting against the glass door, wearing nothing but one of Jack’s old t-shirts that he doesn’t even recall putting inside his luggage, which can only mean she did it herself, something the singer’s often doing, wearing his clothes around, like she’s seeking for some kind of closeness that only he can provide.

She’s breathtaking, Jack remembers thinking. Even with no makeup on, even with puffy, tired eyes, and even with her hair slightly tangled from sleep, she’s breathtaking.

She’s not even doing anything important; she’s not singing, she’s not dancing, she’s not smiling for the thousands of cameras which are frequently shoved up her face. She’s simply existing, simply breathing, and that is enough to make Jack Hughes believe she’s the one for him.

He knows he is lucky. He knows she’s too good for him, and he knows that, one day, she’ll probably realize it, if she hasn’t already.

But, he also knows that as long as she lives, and maybe some time after that, he won’t ever love someone like he loves her. His heart won’t ever beat this fast for someone else, even if he wanted to.

Her laugh is enough to get him through his hardest days, her voice enough to bring him out of his dark thoughts. When he watches her on stage, dancing, singing, smiling and doing what she loves most, he’s certain that she’s enough to make him the happiest man alive.

So, that’s why they are where they are today. Because he can’t lose her. Not again, not ever.

He remembers feeling his heart dropping inside his chest when he read the article. "NHL Star Caught in Cheating Scandal: Sophia Montenegro and Jack Hughes Relationship in Turmoil".

Gladly, he had been one of the first to read the excruciating story. After that one incident where Sophia thought he was fucking his ex, Ava he thinks, his Google Alerts notifications for himself and Sophia are always on, and he doesn’t miss a single thing anymore.

That’s why he almost crushes his phone inside his hands when he reads the article, over and over again, memorizing the nasty, evil words plastered for everyone to see.

There’s a picture, too. A blurry, probably edited one, showing his face beside a random girl’s he doesn’t even know. His name is beside the word “cheater”, “unfaithful” and he’s being compared with that one asshole named Harris Dickinson.

He wants to kill someone.

It’s late at night, and he is away. Sophia is back in Newark at their shared apartment, and he knows she’s probably asleep by now. He won’t get home until later that night, and he’s seriously considering murdering whoever thought that coming up with this lie, now out of all times, would be a great idea.

She’s not answering her phone, as expected, and Jack Hughes wants to scream. He just had a shitty game, they lost 4-1, even after he shot the puck at the net twenty-three times alone— not even one earned him the glorious “goal honk”.

He spends the entire ride silent, because he knows his teammates have already seen the article. He can feel their eyes on him, and he can sense their pity too. Even Luke, who always chooses to stay quiet and watch from afar, is looking at him with worried, hooded eyes.

“I didn’t do it.” Jack mumbles, looking through the window and watching the dark sky above them.

“I know,” Luke hums, sounding upset. “That’s why I am worried.”

“They can’t fucking leave us alone,” Jack hisses, his frustrated tone echoing through the silent bus. “Do they have any idea what this does to Soph? Do they have any idea how fucking messed up this is?”

“She’s a tough girl,” Luke tries. “She’ll get over this.”

“What if,” Jack stops himself. No. Sophia will hear him out, she won’t shut him out like she did last time. This isn’t the first dating scandal they have to deal with, and it certainly will not be the last. “Fuck.”

“I know nothing I say will help but,” Luke sighs, then turns his head around until he’s facing his brother. “I’m here, we’re here. I love you.”

Jack blinks, nodding once. “I know. It helps.”

He arrives at their home at three forty-nine that night. He opens the door and closes it in record time, and he doesn’t even think twice before running to their bedroom, desperate to see if Sophia had run away and desperate to see if he’d find their bed empty.

He doesn’t, though. Sophia’s there, just not like he expected her to be, asleep. No. She’s sitting on top of the covers, resting her back against the headboard, eyes glued to the TV in front of her, some random show Jack didn’t even bother acknowledging playing in the back, muted.

“Baby.”

Her eyes are tired when she looks at him, and he hates it. Hates it because he knows she isn’t tired because she spent the night doing what she loves— she’s tired because she’s thinking nonstop, and she’s not well.

“Jack.”

“You’re not asleep.” He stated, standing in front of her, looking for something he wasn’t really sure of in her face. He didn’t find it.

She smiles, tiredly, tilting her head to the side. “Had this bad feeling on my chest, like something I didn’t even know what was about to blow up in my face.”

“I didn’t do it,” he blurts out. He’s panting and he knows he probably looks awful, but he doesn’t care. “Soph, listen to me. I didn’t d—”

“I know,” she softened her tone, patting the seat beside her, on Jack’s side of the bed. He immediately complies, sitting beside the woman he’d buy the moon for if she asked to. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know your heart, Jack.”

“Soph…”

“I know you,” she gulps, looking at something on his face, as she raises her hand and rests it against his chest. “I know you’re not him.”

“I fucking love you, Soph,” he says, and he can’t believe he’s on the verge of tears. Jack Hughes, the sassy, though player, is on the verge of crying because he can’t stomach the thought of losing his girlfriend. “I’d give you my life if you asked me to. You know that.”

“I don’t want you to,” she smiles, softly, her eyes filled with tears too. “Where’s the fun in that? I want you by my side, every day. I want people to write your name on my biography when I die, and I want people to know that you’re it for me.”

“I’m going to kill whoever wrote that,” he promises. “I know I can find them, and I know I can make them pay for what they did, I just know that,” he’s seeing red, and he’s ready to punch someone in the face when Sophia kisses him, sweet, honeyed lips touching each other.

“Let’s make the most out of this,” she whispers. “This time, let’s just see the glass half full.”

Making the most out of that awful situation turned out to be spending a week at Calilo, a private, five star hotel in Ios, a Greek island.

The room they chose had a private pool, and a private entrance to the beach, which they were in love with. Sophia cried when they opened the hotel’s room door because of course she did, and Jack took a picture of her there to send to the family group chat, before turning his wifi off, something he promised he’d do once they arrived at their destination.

For seven days, one hundred and sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eight minutes, six hundred four thousand, eight hundred seconds, they weren’t going to be the famous singer and Hockey player, Sophia Montenegro and Jack Hughes.

No. They’d be Sophia and Jack, a normal couple living a normal life.

“We could be royalty, king and queen of nowhere,” Sophia sings, voice smooth and quiet, yet enough to make Jack want to jump out of bed and kiss her senseless. “Lose it all, everything. As long as we got you and I, you and me, they can tear this whole house down. All we have is love.”

“Did I die and go to Heaven?” Jack mumbles, and smiles as Sophia turns around and faces him. He barely tries to hide the way he scans her body with hungry eyes, lingering over the outline of her boobs for longer than he probably should.

“Some people do say I’m an angel,” she blinks innocently, and walks towards the bed, sitting on Jack’s lap, gracefully putting her legs on each side of Jack’s body. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a girl who just got knocked up.” He smirks, and Sophia laughs, throwing her head back as Jack holds her in place with his hands on her waist, carefully arranging her on top of him.

“We’ll have to work on this newly developed kink of yours…” she winks.

“Like it isn’t your fault,” he rolls his eyes, playfully, staring at the outline of her panties sitting right on top of his own boxers. “Making a song about wanting to get knocked up. Singing said song in front of thousands of people. Asking me to fuck you in unthinkable positions just so you could do them on stage.”

“I mean…” she smirks. “I gotta keep my fans interested, right? And what are boyfriends for if not for helping their girlfriends out?”

“You’re unreal, Sophia Montenegro,” Jack says, leaning forward and kissing the singer fervently. She tastes sweet, she tastes like his favorite person in the world.

But maybe that’s just because that’s what she is.

𖧷

SOPHIA HAD already forgotten how good it was to live a normal life.

She loves her fans, she really does. She also loves to sing, and she loves to be this huge pop star people say she is, but also loves to be human. She loves to walk around without thousands of people taking pictures of her and analyzing everything she does. She loves to eat a silent dinner by herself or with her friends and family and not have several cameras in her face.

When Jack suggested, after that terrible article, that they should travel somewhere quiet and safe, she thought he was just kidding. It was June, he was technically off his NHL player duties, and she did have some time before she had to headline festivals and make appearances in TV shows so it made sense for them to take some time for themselves, but they had never done that before— why, she doesn’t know, but now she realizes how dumb they had both been.

Ios was a small island, and the few people who were there didn’t know who they were. They walked around with their hands together without anyone batting an eye at them, and even when they asked for people to take pictures of them together, no one hit them with the usual “oh my God, are you that one singer and that one player?”

People treated them normally, and she couldn’t be happier. The past few weeks had been like hell, living on the edge and worrying that something would break them apart, but now?

Now, they were walking together after eating Chicken Gyros and Bubble Waffles with chocolate ice cream (“That’s too sweet, baby, it’s disgusting.”, “You’re disgusting, Rowdy.”), making their way to the private beach in front of their bedroom, which Sophia promptly said it belonged to them from now on.

She spent the entire walk singing, because Jack had asked her to. The lyrics of I Have A Dream slipped out of her mouth like syrup, each sentence sweeter than the previous one. Jack, who has been holding her hand and watching her the entire time, smiled and felt his hands getting sweaty.

“I have a dream, a song to sing. To help me cope with anything, if you see the wonder of a fairy tale, you can take the future even if you fail. I believe in angels.”

She loved this song, it had been one of the many who inspired her to be a singer. And to get to sing it in Greece, while holding hands with the person she’s sure to be the love of her life?

She won.

Her white sundress contrasted perfectly with the sunset in the background, and when she and Jack decided that they wanted to sit by the sea, the sun was already saying its last words.

“It’s beautiful.” She sighs, content.

“It is, yeah,” Jack answers, but when she turns around, he’s not looking at the view, he’s looking at her.

She laughs, smacking his chest. “Did you just call me ‘it’?”

“I don’t know, man, I heard the word beautiful and thought we were talking about you.” He cheesily answers, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re actually so annoying,” Sophia chuckles, moving the sand around with her feet. “I don’t know how I’ve been handling your ass for almost five years.”

Jack stays silent for a while, something that isn’t like him at all, but Sophia doesn’t ask anything. He’s been like that since that one article, and even though she can tell it still bothers him, she promised him she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

It was upsetting, to say the least, to know that people were constantly praying for their downfall. At least once every two months they would come up with a new genius idea of how they weren’t together anymore, and how they hated each other, and how Jack was a freaking cheater and how Sophia was a homewrecker.

She understands that they may not look like the perfect match— who would’ve thought? The bratty, Mr. I-hate-media-attention dating the singer whose name is practically in every headline and whose face is in almost every magazine cover, not to mention her songs always doing numbers in the charts.

But they are happy.

So, so happy.

“I don’t think I want to leave,” Sophia whispers, listening to the sounds of the waves in front of them. Her head is resting on Jack’s shoulder, and he has his left hand wrapped around her thigh. “Like, ever.”

Jack hums. “Not even to make concerts?”

“Well. Maybe,” she sounds childish and Jack smiles. “I wish I could have all of that with all of this. You know what I mean? This peace, their love. Is it weird?”

“Not really, baby. A bit confusing, though.” He kisses her temple, and she chuckles.

“I’ve been in the spotlight for half of my life. Ever since I’ve decided that I wanted to be famous, I’ve been watched like some kind of wild animal,” she whispers, voice filled with emotion. “I love what I do. But… I also love who I am when I’m not performing. When I’m not Sophia Montenegro. I like it when I’m just… yours, for example.”

“Soph—”

“I’m sorry if it sounds confusing…” she pouts, and Jack smirks.

“Do you like being mine?” He asks, and she rolls her eyes at him, annoyed by the obvious question.

“You already know the answer to that,” she says. “Of course I do.”

“Would you like to be mine for the rest of our lives?” He lowers his voice, and Sophia furrows her eyebrows, lifting her head up and staring at the man sitting beside her.

“I mean I would but…” she watches his face. He looks beautiful, she thinks. His eyes match the sea. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I want to know if you’d say yes.” He simply says. Sophia notices he’s shaking, though.

“If I’d say yes to what?” She answers, but she can feel her heart racing inside her chest already.

“To be my wife,” he finally says, pulling a black, velvet box out of his jeans pocket, and opening at the same time her first tears start to roll down her cheeks. “I also love who you are when you’re not performing, but I love it even more when you’re just mine. So, please, Soph, tell me—”

“Jack—” she gasps, putting her hand in front of her mouth.

“Will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest man alive and let me make you my wife?” He asks, blue eyes full of expectations and hope.

Sophia laughs wetly before throwing herself in front of her boyfriend— fiancé—, kissing him messily, just because she can. And because she wants him to feel the turmoil going on inside her, and what he did to her.

How he found her, a garden with no flowers— and then he bought the seeds, planted and watered them, and how he’s now watching them grow and bloom. How he delicately took care of each one of them, and how he’d kiss them gently before going away.

“This could go very wrong,” she says, voice trembling as Jack puts the ring, a very fancy one she notices, on her finger. “You could get tired of me. And you could realize I’m not that cool—”

“Soph, forget it,” Jack laughs. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon. So either you start getting used to being called Sophia Montenegro Hughes now or you’ll have a very hard time.”

“I fucking love you.” She sobs, rolling her wet eyes at him.

“Always so romantic, my postar,” he kisses her cheeks, wiping her tears with his lips. “I happen to fucking love you too.”

𖧷

sophiamontenegro

Ios, Greece

liked by morgan.grace, tyla, elblue6 and 3,902,012 others

sophiamontenegro that feeling when you’re sooo empathetic he had no other option but to make you his wife 💌 that’s that me engaged i guess

View all 9,103 comments

user1 SOPHIA I FUCKING LOVE YOU

user2 HARD LAUNCHING YOUR ENGAGEMENT WHEN PEOPLE SPEND THE ENTIRE MONTH TALKING ABOUT YOUR “BREAK UP” WHAT A QUEEN

trevorzegras That feeling when you have knee surgery tomorrow :/

sophiamontenegro trevorzegras 👍🏻

morgan.grace YOU BETTER CALL ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW SOPHIA WHAT THE HELL

sophiamontenegro morgan.grace on it baby 🫡

user3 THE CAPTION

user4 ngl i thought they wouldn’t last a week but look at them 4 years later getting married

user5 soph you better live stream your wedding pls

jackhughes 😈

user6 we survived another “jack and sophia broke up” moment let’s GOOOOO

user7 album when

𖧷

jackhughes

liked by lhughes_06, njdevils, curtislazar95 and 293,928 others

jackhughes

View all 2,892 comments

lhughes_06 👍🏻

user0 lhughes_06 average hughes brothers reaction

user1 It’s okay Jack we know how overwhelming choosing a caption talking about your engagement with the world’s most famous pop singer can be…

user2 THE SCREENSHOT LMFAO HE DID SOPH DIRTY

sophiamontenegro delete that or i’m asking for a divorce

jackhughes sophiamontenegro we’re not even married yet ?

nicohischier Congrats Jack and Soph ❤️

_quinnhughes congrats!! love ya

elblue6 🥹

subbanator HELL YEAAAAH

trevorzegras Can’t wait until the priest says speak now or forever hold your peace and I get up 😌

jackhughes trevorzegras you’re not even invited

trevorzegras jackhughes 🙁

user3 didn’t know yall were locked in like that

user4 my sister just started screaming and crying 😂

user5 Mama and Papa 💜

user6 THE CONTACT NAME NOOOO

[pinkmoontaco]

It all started at a Set || KMG Pt.1

Pairing: Actor-Idol Mingyu x Actress-Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: This story is a heartwarming slow-burn romance between Mingyu and Y/N, a senior idol. It begins with them being cast as co-stars in a drama where their contrasting personalities—Mingyu’s vibrant, outgoing nature and Y/N’s reserved, composed demeanor—become the catalyst for an unexpected connection. Throughout their journey, they face professional challenges, emotional conflicts, and growing feelings for one another. Author's Note: This is the second story of my series, "It All Started with A..." As I was writing, the story evolved into something much bigger than I initially imagined, so I decided to divide it into three parts to give it the attention and depth it deserves. Don’t worry—the 2nd and 3rd parts will be coming your way very soon, as they are already complete and just waiting to be shared! I’ve poured my heart and soul into this story, crafting every moment with care to bring these characters and their journey to life. Writing this has been an emotional rollercoaster for me, and I truly hope you feel the same passion, love, and excitement as you read it. To everyone who has supported my series so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouragement and feedback have been a driving force behind my writing, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this part of the story. Stay tuned, because there’s so much more to come, and I promise the journey will only get more exciting from here. Thank you for being part of this adventure with me—I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed creating it! Part one _ Part two _ Part three

Mingyu wasn’t sure what prompted him to accept the role this time. At first, it seemed like any other offer—another chance to showcase a different side of himself. But something about the script resonated with him on a deeper level. The character's struggle to balance vulnerability and strength mirrored his own challenges in navigating fame. He felt an unspoken connection to the story, as if it was calling him to confront parts of himself, he had kept hidden. Perhaps that’s why, despite his initial doubts, he agreed to take the leap. Maybe it was the persistent urging of his members, maybe it was his own curiosity, or maybe, just maybe, it was the script that had managed to tug at something deep within him. Either way, he found himself on the set of "Between Us," his first lead role in a drama, both nervous and excited.

The buzz around the project had been immediate, not just because of Mingyu but because of his co-star. Y/N, a senior idol, had been cast as the female lead. She was a name that carried weight in the industry—the leader of her group, a revered idol with an aura of mystery. Known for her icy demeanor and guarded nature, she seemed to embody mystery and restraint, creating an intriguing contrast to Mingyu’s radiant, extroverted charm. While her reserved nature drew admiration, it also set the stage for a fascinating interplay with Mingyu’s infectious energy, sparking curiosity about how their opposite temperaments might evolve together. It was a pairing that intrigued fans and critics alike.

When they met for the first table read, Mingyu was struck by how composed she was. She greeted him with a polite nod, her expression unreadable. Mingyu, ever the extrovert, tried to break the ice with a joke.

“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he said, his signature grin in place. “I hope you’re ready for my bad jokes.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I’ll brace myself,” she replied coolly before turning her attention to the script.

From that moment on, their interactions were polite but distant. On set, Mingyu would try to engage her in conversation, but Y/N kept her responses short. It wasn’t that she was rude; she just seemed... guarded. Mingyu couldn’t help but be intrigued. What was she hiding behind that composed facade?

As the weeks went by, they began filming scenes that required emotional depth and vulnerability. The plot of "Between Us" revolved around two people who initially clashed but slowly fell in love as they unraveled each other’s secrets. The parallels between the characters and their real-life dynamics didn’t escape Mingyu.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Mingyu found Y/N sitting alone by the set, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the scene.

“Hey,” Mingyu said, approaching cautiously. “You okay?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

Mingyu sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “You were amazing in that scene,” he said sincerely. “I felt like I was watching your character come to life.”

She looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thank you. You did well too.”

It was the first time she’d offered him a genuine compliment, and Mingyu felt a small thrill of accomplishment. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sky change colors.

“Do you ever get tired?” Y/N asked suddenly. “Of being... this?”

Mingyu frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Of always being expected to be perfect. To smile, to perform, to never let your guard down,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu thought for a moment before replying. “Sometimes. But I think it’s okay to not be perfect. People connect with us because of our flaws, not despite them.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable once more. But something shifted that day. She began to open up, little by little. Mingyu learned that behind her icy exterior was someone who cared deeply about her members, someone who carried the weight of leadership with grace but also with a heavy heart.

The rest of the cast and crew began to notice the change in their dynamic. During breaks, they often saw Mingyu and Y/N sharing quiet conversations or laughing at inside jokes. One day, a crew member walked in on Mingyu patiently teaching Y/N a card game to pass the time, his enthusiasm contagious as Y/N, known for her reserved nature, playfully accused him of cheating.

“Cheating? Me?” Mingyu feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m wounded, Y/N. Truly.”

“Wounded or not, you’re still losing,” Y/N shot back with a rare grin.

Another time, during a particularly chilly outdoor shoot, a makeup artist caught Mingyu draping his jacket over Y/N’s shoulders without a word, brushing off her protests with a casual, “You’ll catch a cold.”

The director, amused by their growing rapport, once joked, “If you two don’t win Best Couple at the year-end awards, I’ll be writing to the network myself.”

Even the extras started to notice their synergy, with one commenting during lunch, “Their chemistry isn’t just acting—it’s real.” Mingyu’s consistent warmth and Y/N’s subtle but significant thawing became a favorite topic of conversation among the crew, adding a special layer of excitement to the production. The once distant co-stars were now sharing inside jokes, supporting each other through difficult scenes, and even eating meals together during breaks. Mingyu’s patience and warmth had managed to crack Y/N’s walls, and she, in turn, became a grounding presence for him.

The turning point came during a particularly grueling shoot. It was a night scene set in the rain, with both leads expected to deliver emotionally charged performances. As Y/N sprinted down the wet pavement for a pivotal chase sequence, her ankle twisted, sending her collapsing onto the ground mid-scene. The crew froze, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain hammering down. Mingyu, standing nearby, dropped his prop and sprinted to her side.

“Cut!” the director shouted, but Mingyu was already kneeling beside Y/N, his voice tinged with panic. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

Y/N tried to sit up, brushing off the mud on her hands. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though the pain was evident in her eyes.

“No, you’re not,” Mingyu said firmly, his worry overriding his usual easygoing demeanor. He gestured for the on-set medic, his brows furrowed in concern. “You need to rest. This isn’t something to push through.”

Despite her protests, Mingyu carefully helped her to a nearby chair, his hand steady on her arm. His genuine concern was clear, and the crew exchanged knowing glances, murmuring about how protective he had become of her. In that moment, something shifted—not just between their characters, but in their real relationship as well.

The injury had forced Y/N to take it slow, and Mingyu took it upon himself to help her. He’d show up to set early to make sure the path was clear for her crutches, brought her snacks during breaks, and even offered to rehearse lines with her to save her unnecessary movement.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Y/N said one day, watching as Mingyu carefully adjusted her chair.

“Maybe,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “But I don’t mind.”

As “Between us” progressed, the romantic tension between Mingyu and Y/N on-screen began to mirror their growing connection off-screen. Their characters, who started out as strangers, gradually developed a deep emotional bond, with Mingyu’s warmth gradually melting Y/N’s cool exterior.

One evening, during a late-night shoot, the scene called for a quiet, intimate moment at the café. Mingyu’s character, Jae-min, had just confessed his feelings to Y/N’s character, Seo-yeon. The air was thick with tension as their eyes met, both characters hesitant yet longing.

“Are you sure you want this?” Jae-min asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he reached out to gently touch Seo-yeon’s hand.

Y/N, as Seo-yeon, looked at him, her expression unreadable, before slowly nodding. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to try.”

In the next moment, Jae-min leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, a gentle but tender kiss filled with the promise of something new. The director yelled “Cut!” immediately after the kiss, but both actors were left momentarily frozen, caught in the vulnerability of the moment.

Mingyu quickly stepped back, awkwardly scratching his head. “Uh, sorry, was that too much?”

Y/N, for the first time in a while, let out a soft laugh, something that startled Mingyu. “No, it was good,” she said quietly, her cheeks flushed. “You just… surprised me, I guess.”

That night, as they wrapped up filming, Mingyu couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the kiss had felt—how it wasn’t just an act but something real that he had experienced with her. Y/N, despite her usually cool demeanor, had shown a glimmer of warmth, and it left Mingyu wondering if the lines between their characters were blurring.

The next scene that stood out was a pivotal moment in the drama, where Jae-min (Mingyu’s character) confesses his love for Seo-yeon (Y/N’s character) during a stormy night. They were supposed to be alone in the café, the rain tapping against the window as Jae-min, drenched from the downpour, walked in to find Seo-yeon sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain.

“Seo-yeon,” Jae-min said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You’re the only one who sees me for who I really am.”

Seo-yeon turned to him, her eyes softening but still guarded. “But you know I’m not the person you think I am, right?”

The tension in the room was palpable as Jae-min walked toward her, his every step determined. “I don’t care,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I love you.”

The kiss that followed was more passionate, a moment of release for both characters. The scene was so intense that even the crew stayed silent as they filmed. When the director yelled “Cut,” both Mingyu and Y/N stood frozen in their positions, the chemistry between them undeniable.

During a break, Y/N walked off to the side, away from the set, clearly trying to collect herself after the emotional intensity of the kiss. Mingyu, sensing her discomfort, followed her quietly.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asked softly, standing a few feet away.

Y/N paused, looking at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, just… it’s a lot sometimes, you know?” She shrugged. “This role is… difficult for me.”

Mingyu gave her a gentle smile. “You’re doing amazing. I can tell. I know acting can be hard, but you make it look effortless.”

Y/N looked at him, her walls slowly starting to crack. “Thanks, Mingyu,” she said quietly, her tone sincere.

As she turned back to the set, Mingyu watched her, his heart unexpectedly racing. They might have started out as strangers, but something was beginning to stir between them, something neither of them had anticipated.

One of the final scenes in the drama was another intimate moment between Jae-min and Seo-yeon. The two characters had gone through their fair share of struggles, and in this scene, they finally gave in to their feelings for one another. The script called for a tender, lingering kiss under the moonlight, where Jae-min pulls Seo-yeon into his arms as they both acknowledge their deep connection.

As the cameras rolled, the chemistry between Mingyu and Y/N was undeniable. The kiss was gentle at first, with both characters hesitant, but as the scene progressed, their passion deepened. Their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss that was both vulnerable and full of longing, capturing the emotional weight of everything their characters had been through.

When the director finally called “Cut,” the entire set seemed to hold its breath. Y/N, who had usually kept a distance from Mingyu, seemed to soften in his arms, the connection between them palpable even off-camera.

During the next break, Mingyu found himself sitting next to Y/N, who had become noticeably more relaxed around him since their first interactions. They were both exhausted from the intense filming, but the mood between them was no longer cold.

“I didn’t know acting could be like this,” Mingyu admitted, his voice low. “It’s… more than just saying lines. It feels real.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s like… you let yourself be vulnerable for a moment.” She paused, then added, “You’re a good actor, Mingyu.”

Her words caught him off guard. He smiled, not able to hide his feelings anymore. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

There was a comfortable silence between them, and for the first time, Mingyu felt a genuine sense of connection to Y/N—not just as his co-star, but as someone who understood the depth of their roles and the emotions they had shared through their characters.

One memorable day, they filmed a scene where their characters shared their first kiss under a canopy of stars. The setup was breathtaking—fairy lights hanging from the trees, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the soft strumming of a guitar playing in the background.

Between takes, Mingyu leaned over with a grin. “They really went all out for this, huh?”

Y/N glanced around, her lips twitching into a rare smile. “It’s beautiful. Almost makes you forget we’ve been here for hours.”

The scene required them to hold hands, exchange lingering gazes, and lean into a kiss that felt as natural as breathing. When the director finally called, “Cut!” he looked up from the monitor and clapped. “That was perfect! The chemistry was off the charts.”

Another day, they filmed a playful sequence where their characters spent an afternoon at a seaside carnival. From riding the Ferris wheel to playing ring toss, the scenes were filled with laughter and lighthearted moments. While filming a shot where Mingyu’s character won a giant stuffed bear for Y/N’s character, he jokingly handed it to her and said, “This is the closest you’ll get to me spoiling you in real life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’ll cherish it forever,” she quipped, hugging the bear dramatically.

The most challenging yet rewarding scene to film came toward the end of the drama, where their characters finally confessed their feelings after a heated argument. The emotions ran high, and even the crew found themselves holding their breath as Mingyu and Y/N brought the raw vulnerability of their characters to life. By the time the director called cut, there was a moment of stunned silence before the set erupted into applause.

“You really outdid yourselves,” the director said, visibly moved. “This is the kind of performance that stays with people.”

Through these scenes, their bond grew stronger. Whether it was the stolen glances that felt too real or the way they naturally gravitated toward each other during breaks, it was clear to everyone that something special was blooming between them.

[nymphea0]

Then can I request a continuation of that oneshot with Matthias? I was wondering what their marriage life and parenthood is like. Thank you in advance!! 🥰

The Duke And His Secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story (Special Chapter).

(Warnings : Balcony mature scene at the end.)

*Minors are prohibited from reading this story🚫*

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van Ji

Word Count ; 1.395k word.

Hello this is Neva🦋, hope you have a nice and happy day, it's been a long time since I updated any story whether it's manhwa or Oc. sorry about that, I'm currently very focused on making a "supernatural" expecially Vampire character series project investigating and deepening it so that the character I make doesn't seem stiff and my darlings enjoy reading it. So heres some matthias cup of tea story (^3^), hope you like it Anon🦋, Lots of love - Neva🦋🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

- Main story : The Duke and His Secret

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The residence of the Duke of Arvis, the kingdom of Berg.

The atmosphere of the residence was very cheerful, full of laughter from the 2 children of the opposite sex.

One had jet black hair like the color of a crow's feathers, with bright blue eyes like the sky. The other had snow-white hair with amethyst purple eyes.

The servants in the residence could only blush in excitement seeing the two children who were only 8 years old.

2 children, siblings, with different genders. The older brother was a man with black hair like a crow, while the younger sister, a woman with snow-colored hair.

Both of them played and ran with each other in the garden

While on the other side of the garden under the tree, there was a table with a complete set of tea and also a light side dish for the mouth that went well with tea, Pastry.

There were two women sitting there, one was no longer young, estimated to be 80 years old, while the other, still looked young but not so young, estimated to be 50 years old.

The two women were, Elysee von herhardt, and Norma Catharina Von herhardt, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, who were both watching their grandchildren.

Felix Von Herhard and Airedith Von Herhard. Felix and Aire. Siblings who were only 1 year apart. The servants said they were Irish twins. Because they were only 1 year apart.

Norma stared at the two little children playing with each other, the woman was no longer young, she felt very sad if she couldn't play with them.

While Elysee occasionally smiled and drank tea elegantly, her eyes staring towards the balcony of their manor house. There Elysee could see her affectionate son and daughter-in-law.

In fact, as Elysee remembered when Matthias brought you to the Herhardt residence for the first time, a forced marriage that made your parents agree, you really didn't like being close to Matthias, but as the saying goes, struggle will never give disappointing results. The fact that Matthias desperately shows that he does love you, sincerely even though his way at the beginning was wrong.

Slowly you accepted Matthias, he never forced you to make love or do things he wanted but you didn't like, he listened to your wishes, all your anger, even though at the beginning you were afraid Matthias would hurt you, but he didn't do that.

Matthias even went to a psychiatrist to help overcome how to eliminate apathy and grow an attitude of sympathy and become caring and willing to accept differences of opinion, rejection and so on.

There Elysee could see how Matthias kissed your cheek affectionately, if Elysee remembered again the woman wanted to laugh at how Matthias' expression said love but with a flat expression.

Like father, like child. The fruit does not fall far from the tree, that's Matthias, just like his father.

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You are relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the hot spring, so warm but shady.

Down there, in the garden, you see your mother-in-law, Elysee and Matthias' grandmother, Norma, busy staring at Felix and Aire who are playing with each other, your and Matthias' children.

While your husband? Matthias, the man is busy cooing affectionately behind you, kissing your bare shoulder affectionately because you are wearing an Off-shoulder dress. Damn, this man knows the opportunity in adversity.

Many things have happened during the 9 years you have been with Matthias, you have faced the ups and downs together, but you know that Matthias wants to learn and tries to prove himself. As a result, the man becomes like a cat in heat, always wanting to be close and not wanting to be far away.

"Matty! Don't bite! Later mom and grandma will see, I'll be embarrassed"

You complain because this time Matthias bites and sips lovingly leaving a mark on your bare shoulder.

While Matthias, the man is only busy kissing, sucking your shoulder and neck, his hands also don't stay still on your thigh, stroking affectionately. Never mind that it was currently in public, but fortunately the balcony railing was 100% covered with carved marble, so the people below only saw that Matthias and you were just hugging.

"Don't refuse like that my love, it's your own fault for wearing such revealing clothes, this is called an invitation for me"

Matthias continued kissing and nuzzling your shoulder and neck.

"Felix and Aire are already 8 years old, isn't it time for them to have a new sibling?"

"No! Wait until they are 10 years old, then a new sibling"

Too bad, your husband didn't accept the rejection, instead Matthias stared with a mischievous grin.

.

.

Elysee chuckled softly at what she had just seen, causing amazement at Norma and the 2 little kids who were currently sitting in front of them, resting because they were tired of running and playing.

Norma snorted and drank her tea slowly, softly asking.

"What made you chuckle so cutely Elysee?"

Elysee just smiled shaking her head, and poked Felix's cheek which was a copy of Matthias and also rubbed Aire who was busy eating pastry.

"Nothing mom, I think we need to build another house"

Blinking one eye mischievously at her mother-in-law Norma, while Norma who was given that just laughed happily.

Wiping away tears slowly because she was tired of laughing. Norma knew exactly what Elysee meant, a new presence, a new member, Felix and Aire's future sibling.

"Well, at least our Matthias is full of energy to want to have lots of children"

The two middle-aged women laughed together, making the two little children in front of them look at each other, shake their heads slowly and just continue eating the pastry served in front of them.

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On the balcony, Matthias was still busy kissing your shoulder and neck affectionately which was so tempting to his desire.

His hands were so adept at entering your lower dress, rubbing your soft thighs gently with full squeezes passion.

"Matt! Not here!"

You tried to protest Matthias, but like talking to a wall, Matthias ignored your protest.

Until his ladder slipped into your underwear, rubbing your sensitive intimate area slowly.

"Matthias!?". The more firmly you refused, the wilder Matthias became.

"What love? I know you enjoy it"

Matthias naughtily sucked your neck slowly, while his 2 fingers were busy moving back and forth in your sensitive area, so deep and expert.

You were only able to hold back your moans, afraid that a servant would pass through the balcony door or Grandma and mother would see you both suspiciously from down there, as much as possible you acted normal.

"Come on love, don't be so shy, I know you enjoy it"

Your ass was slapped lightly by Matthias deliberately full of temptation.

His hands got faster when he felt your walls squeezing his fingers.

"Want to come out love? Yes? Come to me love, came to my hands"

Until, you came hard! Both of your hands covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your eyes closed while your legs shook unable to bear the weight.

While Matthias' fingers were still busy moving slowly, down there, Matthias could feel and see the puddles of water falling. You squirted, it turned out.

Matthias chuckled softly and kissed your cheek tenderly.

Matthias passionately devours your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of your mouth. Claiming it to be his.

You who are out of breath try to pat Matthias' chest, but Matthias this man is full of passion, so you bite his lips and scratch his neck, causing blood spots on his lips and neck.

Matthias just winces softly before pulling your hair back, not too roughly but not too slowly, enough to make you look at him.

Matthias' passionate eyes stare directly at you, whispering sensually right in front of your lips, while licking the corner of your lips affectionately.

"Feels so good love? Do you want to continue here or in the room hmm?"

Damn, your fate is so unlucky to marry this shameless nobleman but god, you cant hold your heart, you love this man, as same as matthias love you.

His secret, his little heaven secret.

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Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

[from-the-depths-if]

Two minutes to midnight here I'm not late!

The prologue for From the Depths is now ready to read! Total word count is around 7000 words

Create your character

Set your relationship with one of your potential romances

Find your place in the world you've spent your life in

Have an eerie encounter

Find the demo here:

Author's note: choosing a friendly/distant relationship with Llyr will not lock you out of xir future romance content if you choose it

As always, please let me know if you find any errors as you're reading, I'll get around to fixing them as soon as possible.

Thank you so much for your patience with this chapter, I truly hope you enjoy it! :)

-Robin

[deliciousangelfestival]

Another part to Rain and Umbrella? Please lovely ☕️🍪

Of course sweetie

Only The Lonely - By Your Side

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: After Bucky saw you crying and listened to your problems, he gave you something as an answer.

Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy, Slice Of Life

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"I'm not okay," you admitted, your voice trembling as you sat on the floor, clutching the mug of hot chocolate. Its warmth seeped into your hands, a small comfort against the coldness inside you. "I’ve been hiding for so long that I’ve forgotten who I used to be."

Bucky leaned against the wall, his arms crossed but his eyes soft. He didn’t push you, just let the silence sit between you until you were ready.

"I want to leave everything behind," you continued, your gaze fixed on the swirling steam rising from your mug. "Before everything fell apart—before my brother drowned in debt and left me to clean up his mess—I was someone else. Someone happier."

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he watched the pain etched into your features.

"I miss my friends," you admitted, your voice breaking. Running away had meant cutting ties with everyone who mattered.

Bucky didn’t say a word. Instead, he walked over and crouched down beside you. His presence was steady, and grounding.

Later, when you excused yourself to rest, Bucky stayed behind. You didn’t know then, but he had already decided to do something about your brother.

****

The next morning, you woke to find Bucky gone. A note rested on the coffee table, the words scrawled in his handwriting:

Be right back.

Your chest tightened as you read it, a mixture of hope and uncertainty swirling in your stomach. You went about your day, returning to work at the café.

"Where have you been?" one of your coworkers asked, concern flickering across their face.

You offered a vague smile, brushing it off with a simple, "I’m fine. Just needed some time."

As the day wound down and you closed up the café, you stepped outside and froze. There he was—Bucky—waiting for you.

"I want to show you something," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Back at his place, the air felt charged. Your heart raced as you stepped inside and saw a third person sitting in the middle of the room.

Your missing brother. Teddy.

He was tied to a chair, his eyes wide with fear. A muffled scream escaped his gagged mouth as he squirmed against the ropes.

"How did you find him?" you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked at Bucky.

He leaned casually against the wall, but there was steel in his voice when he replied, "He used a fake ID, changed his looks, and has been working as a fisherman."

Teddy thrashed again, but Bucky’s presence was unyielding.

Bucky walked over, his movements deliberate, and pulled the gag from Teddy's mouth.

“She paid the price instead of you,” he said coldly, his gaze piercing Teddy’s. “She’s suffered for three years because of your cowardice. Now, you’re going to pay back six times what you owe.”

“That’s more than I owe!” Teddy shouted, his voice shaky but defiant.

Bucky leaned closer, his jaw tightening. “That’s the price for what you’ve put her through. She ran, she hid, and she nearly lost everything because of you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The words you’d longed to hear—someone finally defending you—stunned you. Who would have thought that the stranger from the train could be the one to make you feel seen? In your darkest moment, you found the light in your problem. God knows.

Teddy’s bravado crumbled. His eyes darted nervously between you and Bucky. “I’ll pay,” he stammered. “I’ll pay back everything I owe her.”

Your knees nearly buckled from the shock. After years of struggling, hearing Teddy’s reluctant promise felt surreal. You glanced at Bucky, gratitude welling up in your chest.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

****

The next few days passed in a blur. You resigned and packed your belongings, ready to return to your hometown. It was time to reclaim the life you had left behind.

On the day of your departure, you stood on the platform at the train station, your heart heavy with bittersweet emotions. When you turned, there he was—Bucky.

As you stepped onto the train, you paused in the doorway and looked back at him. "Let’s meet again," you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. A small smile played on your lips. "Next time, can you ask me for a date?"

Before he could respond, you leaned in and kissed him. His eyes widened, his body rigid in surprise, but his lips softened under yours.

The train door closed before either of you could say another word, but through the window, you could still see him.

His smile was enough to warm your heart, a silent promise in the way his lips curved and his eyes held yours.

He nodded, his answer clear even without words.

He will ask you next time.

And next time, both of you will step onto the train together, sitting side by side, whether to travel to new places or to return home. The journey wouldn’t matter because, for the first time in a long time, you wouldn’t be alone.

As the train began to move, you kept your eyes on him, and he did the same, his figure shrinking in the distance but never leaving your thoughts. You smiled to yourself, the beginning of something beautiful stirring in your chest.

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The Prophecy Chapter 3: Please, I've Been on My Knees

Summary: Aurelia retreats to her private quarters after their wedding feast and Lucius visits.

A/N: Thank you everyone for taking this journey with me! This may be the shortest chapter of the series but who knows. I hope you keep enjoying this story! If you want any specific blurbs from this universe, I can take requests! ALSO, I started making a playlist for this story so, if you want it, let me know and I can share it. Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, hint of marriage consummation, she's not excited about consummation but she consented, flashback, Geta being Geta, Lucius being an okay dude and not pressuring our girl.

Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

Flashbacks are labeled as such.

Aurelia’s private quarters were dimly lit by a few flickering candles, their flames casting long shadows against the marble walls. The opulent chamber was still and quiet, far removed from the jubilant clamor of the banquet hall. Aurelia stepped inside, her crimson gown trailing behind her, her face drawn with exhaustion and a kind of quiet fury that had built throughout the evening.

She crossed the room with deliberate steps, her shoes clicking softly against the polished floor and came to a stop in front of the wide window, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city below. The moon hung high, casting a pale light over the Roman rooftops. It should have been a sight of beauty, but to her, it was just another reminder of the cold empire she was a part of—one that had stolen so much from her, including her peace.

Behind her, she heard the quiet rustling of fabric as Lucius Verus entered the room. She didn’t turn. She didn’t have to. His presence was unmistakable, as it always was. He had been quieter tonight than she expected, but then again, he didn’t need to speak to make his presence known. His energy filled the room with a heavy tension, the kind that always lingered after a battle—an uneasy truce between two warriors who had fought their own wars, even if they had never met on the battlefield.

"I didn’t think you’d be here so soon," she said, her voice betraying the fatigue in her bones.

Lucius didn’t answer right away, and when she finally turned to face him, he was standing by the door, his posture rigid, as if he too were unsure of what to do with the space between them. He had removed his imperial cloak and his tunic, revealing the broad expanse of his shoulders and the hard lines of his body, still as striking as ever. But there was something else about him—something softer now, something that seemed less like an emperor and more like the boy he must have been in his faraway childhood, a time before all of this.

Aurelia felt a sudden pang of something she couldn’t name—a fleeting sympathy, perhaps?—but she quickly shoved it aside. She had learned long ago to bury her emotions, to guard her heart. There was no room for such weaknesses now.

Lucius’s piercing blue eyes met hers, searching, almost as if he were attempting to read her.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked, his voice low, but the question hung in the air like a challenge.

Aurelia didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of him, not in the way others were, not anymore. She had already seen what he was capable of—he was a gladiator, a killer, a man forged in the heat of battle. What could he possibly do now, except attempt to break her.

But she was already broken.

"I meant every word," she replied sharply, her voice gaining strength. "I will never love you, Lucius. I will never be your ally by choice. But I am here. I will play my part, for Rome and for the Empire."

Lucius didn’t react at first. He just stood there, watching her. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was something different in it now—less of the emperor’s cold authority and more of a man who had seen too much of life’s cruelty to believe in anything like love.

"You think I want your love?" His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but it carried a certain bitterness that made her pause. "You think I came into this marriage with the hope that we’d be some great power couple, ruling Rome with passion and glory? I have no illusions, Aurelia Carina Cassia."

The use of her full name—Aurelia Carina Cassia—felt like a weight, as though he were not just speaking to her, but to the very woman she had been before all of this. The name she had been born with, the name that had been tied to another life. A life that was no longer hers.

"Then why did you marry me?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She had asked herself the same question countless times, but hearing him speak so bluntly, without pretense, it made her want to understand.

Lucius's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if searching for the right words. "Because I had no choice," he said, his voice low but firm. "I couldn’t rule without legitimacy. I needed you to secure my claim. Your bloodline... the Empire needed to see me as the true heir."

Aurelia felt a sudden wave of disgust flood her, but she fought it back. She had known the truth from the moment she had been offered the choice: marry Lucius or die. There was no illusion of love here. No romance. Only survival.

"Just like me," she said bitterly, her eyes narrowing. "You needed my bloodline. I needed your power and protection."

Lucius’s eyes darkened slightly and he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them in a way that felt more predatory than protective. "We are not so different, are we?" His voice was softer now, tinged with something that felt like understanding—but whether it was real or just another layer of manipulation, she couldn’t tell.

Aurelia’s pulse quickened. She felt a strange mixture of irritation and something else—something she didn’t want to name—stir inside her. She had been in control of her emotions for so long, yet here he was, reminding her of everything she had tried to bury.

"Don’t mistake me for someone you can control, Lucius," she said, her voice suddenly cool and sharp. "I am not a prize to be claimed or a piece of property to be used. I may wear your crown, but I will never be your puppet."

Lucius didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he stopped in front of her, his gaze locked on hers with that unnerving intensity. For a moment, there was silence, and the only sound in the room was the soft flicker of the candles.

"Who says you have to be?" he asked, his tone shifting again—this time with a flicker of something like respect, or perhaps understanding. "Maybe we don’t have to be anything to each other, Aurelia. Maybe we can just exist in this world, for whatever time we have left, without trying to change the other."

Aurelia swallowed, her chest tightening at his words. There was something in his eyes now that made her feel exposed, as if he could see through her carefully constructed walls.

For a moment, she considered saying something else—anything else—but she bit her lip and kept silent. She had no more words, no more energy to fight. This marriage, this empire—it was a cage, and they were both trapped inside it.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "We will exist. For as long as we must."

Lucius nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. He stepped back, giving her space, but the tension between them was still palpable, hanging thick in the air.

"I’ll leave you to rest," he said quietly, turning toward the door but before he could reach the threshold, Aurelia’s voice stopped him.

"Lucius," she said, her tone softer now, though no less guarded.

He paused, glancing back at her.

"For what it’s worth," she said, her words hesitant but true, "I don’t hate you. Not yet."

Lucius’s eyes flickered with something—maybe surprise, maybe something deeper—but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Aurelia stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, her thoughts a swirling mass of anger, confusion, and something she was too afraid to admit.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers curling around the fabric of her gown and let out a long, shuddering breath. In the Roman world of power and survival, love had no place. All she could do was endure.

And in the silence of the room, she realized that perhaps, in this strange marriage, endurance would be all they would ever have.

Flashback ~ Wedding Nights and Feasts

The grand hall of the imperial palace was alight with the glow of hundreds of candles, their flickering flames casting long shadows across the marble columns and golden tapestries. The air was thick with the sound of voices—nobles and senators, officials and soldiers—laughing, clinking goblets, and speaking in hushed tones of political matters, all the while pretending to enjoy the extravagance of the evening.

Aurelia sat at the center of the room, her back straight and her face a carefully composed mask of regal calm. The feast was elaborate, more lavish than any she had seen before, with tables laden with roasted meats, fresh fruits, pastries of all kinds, and goblets of wine that never seemed to empty. It was a celebration meant to mark the union of two powerful families, a political marriage cloaked in the facade of love and festivity.

Beside her, Geta sat in his place as Emperor, his posture rigid and his eyes scanning the room, his expression cool and detached. He rarely spoke to her, his lips pressed together in an unreadable line as he occasionally exchanged formal pleasantries with the dignitaries at his side. He did not look at her directly, but rather, his gaze seemed to skim over her, as though she were just another part of the evening’s decoration—a beautiful, silent accessory to a ceremony that had more to do with power than affection.

Aurelia shifted in her seat, the weight of her wedding gown pressing down on her shoulders. It felt heavier than she remembered, the delicate silk and embroidery stifling in the warmth of the hall. The wine, which she had sipped sparingly, made her head spin a little. The noise of the crowd seemed distant, like the murmur of waves crashing far away, while the tension in her chest built steadily. She wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but beside Geta, who barely acknowledged her presence.

She glanced up at him, and for the first time that evening, their eyes met. His gaze lingered for a moment—barely a second—but in that moment, she saw something flicker behind his dark eyes. A glimmer of something unreadable.

It was not affection, but perhaps it was acknowledgment. Or perhaps it was just the weight of the situation bearing down on them both. He was the heir to the throne, but he was also, in some ways, as much a prisoner as she was. Aurelia quickly looked away, not wanting to read too deeply into it. They were both bound by duty. Perhaps that was all they ever would be.

"Empress Aurelia, it is a pleasure to finally see you in a laurel wreath. It suits you well," came a voice, pulling her from her thoughts. It was one of the senators, his smile oily and too wide. He was leaning in, his wine-stained breath making her skin crawl.

"Thank you," she replied coolly, offering a tight smile, but her attention was drawn back to Geta. The way his mouth tightened when his twin entered the room, or how his gaze flitted from guest to guest, never settling on her. He was far more interested in the politics of the evening than in the woman at his side.

The moments dragged on, the sound of clinking cutlery and polite laughter filling the air as the night deepened. Aurelia’s stomach twisted with the knowledge that she would spend many more nights like this, forced to sit at the table, to smile, to pretend that this was her choice.

Her fingers, which had been tightly gripping the edge of her goblet, tightened around the stem, her nails digging into the delicate glass.

Geta, still barely acknowledging her, looked up then, catching her eyes once again. This time, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps curiosity, or even frustration. But whatever it was, it was gone in a heartbeat. He turned his attention back to the men beside him, a conversation about military matters beginning to unfold.

The night wore on with little change. The banquet was lavish, yes, but it felt more like a gilded cage. The guests praised her beauty, complimented her elegance, but they never asked her what she thought. No one cared for her opinions, her desires. It was all about marriage. It was all about power. Duty.

After what seemed like an eternity, the music began to swell, signaling the end of the feast and the start of the traditional dances.

Aurelia had no choice but to follow. She was led away from her seat by a servant, her movements stiff and controlled. She did not look at Geta as she passed him, but she knew he would be at her side for the next dance.

As they joined the throng of dancers in the center of the room, Aurelia caught a glimpse of Geta moving toward her. His movements were slow, calculated—his posture never changing, even as he took her hand in his. His fingers were firm, but not gentle. There was no warmth in his touch, only the cold certainty of what was expected of him.

The music swelled around them, and they began to dance. The movements were practiced, each step a part of a ritual that had been passed down through the generations. But even as they moved together, Aurelia couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of isolation. She was surrounded by the thrumming beat of the music, the eyes of the court watching their every move, but there was no connection. Nothing to bridge the distance between them. She felt as though she were dancing with a stranger.

Geta’s gaze remained distant, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond her, as if he were looking at the empire rather than his bride. He did not seem to care for the spectacle, for the performance. He danced because he had to—because it was expected of him.

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat, but she swallowed it down. This was her life now. A life of duty and silence, of rituals and politics.

When the dance ended, Geta offered her a curt nod, his hand slipping from hers with no more warmth than when it had first touched her. He turned and walked away, lost in the swirl of the crowd, leaving Aurelia to stand alone at the center of the hall, her heart heavy with the weight of it all.

Hours later, the imperial palace had quieted. The last of the guests had been sent away, and the halls were still. Aurelia had changed out of her wedding gown, donning a simple silk robe that was far more comfortable than the heavy dress she had worn for the ceremony and the feast. She had been bathed and prepared by her attendants though she felt no sense of relief. The ceremony was over, but the reality of her marriage had just begun.

Her chambers were vast, opulent and yet it still felt hollow, as though the walls themselves were closing in on her. Aurelia sat at the edge of her bed, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her shoulders. The soft light of the moon filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Enter," she called out, her voice steady despite the apprehension twisting in her gut.

The door creaked open, and there he stood: Geta, dressed in a simple night tunic, his expression absolutely unreadable. He glanced at her briefly before stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Aurelia stood, her heart pounding in her chest. This was the moment. The moment that would define their marriage, the moment that would bind them together—at least, in the eyes of the empire.

Geta didn’t speak at first, his eyes scanning the room with an almost clinical detachment. It was as though this was just another political alliance, another transaction. Not a marriage. Not an intimate bond.

Transactional.

The emperor walked toward the bed, his movements deliberate, but not rushed. He removed his shoes and sat at the edge, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension.

Aurelia swallowed hard, her mouth dry. She stood across from him, her hands trembling as she clasped them in front of her.

"Is it... time?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the question feeling strange even to her.

Geta turned his head slightly to look at her, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something softer in his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the cold, distant look she had grown quickly accustomed to.

“It is,” he replied, his voice steady, but there was no warmth there.

Aurelia’s heart sank as she stepped toward him, the enormity of what was to come hanging between them like a weight. This was not the passionate union she had imagined. This was not love. This was duty.

Geta reached for her, his touch firm but unfeeling, pulling her toward him. There was no tenderness in the way his hands gripped her, no gentleness in the way he kissed her. His lips were cold, mechanical, as though he were performing a duty rather than seeking a bond.

And how she hoped it could be something. She already felt so lonely.

Aurelia closed her eyes, feeling the disconnect between them. The weight of their marriage, the distance between them, settled deeper in her chest. She didn’t feel loved. She felt like a pawn in a larger game that she had no control in.

She had no choice. She could not pull away. This was her life now. No love. Only duty.

Please the Emperor. Give him heirs. Serve at his side.

As Geta’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, Aurelia stood still, her body stiff and her mind elsewhere - somewhere by the seaside. She felt the sting of loneliness in the marriage bed, the ache of emptiness that nothing could fill.

And when it was done, when he withdrew and settled beside her, there was nothing.

[koshkamartell]

Hello my loves.

This is it. The final chapter of No One But Me. I'm sorry it took so long to write; there was so much emotion and energy involved in this final part that it took longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you to my little group of faithful readers who have showed their support and love throughout this journey. I have appreciated all your comments and reblogs so much. It gives me alot of joy to hear that my story has been a source of joy and entertainment for someone.

I haven't added a warning list to this part in order to avoid spoilers. Please leave me your thoughts after you read.

The sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the clearing surrounding the cabin, stirring birds to flee from the forest treetops with the loud flapping of their wings. You only managed to run a few yards from the porch before the gunfire caused you to come to a halt.

Your boots skid in the icy snow as you whip around in search of where the shot was fired from. Your eyes scan the surrounding woodland for any shapes or movement between the trees. You imagine a man - another raider - just as tall and ugly as Lyle, stalking through the forest clutching a hunting rifle, on his way to kill you. The thought drives a spike of fear through your guts and makes your full bladder ache.

You search around, vigilant and alert, subconsciouly holding your breath in your lungs. You pause and wait, trying in vain to keep your body from shaking. You wait for but nothing happens. No sign of danger presents itself, neither in the form of an infected or an unknown, ominous figure holding a gun.

You inhale a gulping breath of the bitterly cold winter air and a visible puff of cloud escapes your lips when you exhale.

Was it Joel who fired the shot? He must be absolutely livid with you, crazed with fury at your repeated insolence, your second attempt at escape in less than two days. He must have fired a warning shot when he saw you had gone, as there's no way Joel would miss a target, not with all his weaponry prowess.

You look back to the cabin now, your whole body still shivering with fear, expecting to see Joel standing on the porch brandishing a gun in his large blood covered hands. But Joel is not there.

Your eyes then fall upon the figure laying on the ground.

You had been so startled by the sound of the gun shot that you hadn't realised Oscar was not next to you. Your stomach sinks when you see that Oscar had not made it as far as you; he had fallen to his knees just a few steps from the cabin.

"Oscar!" You shriek with panic. Your own voice sounds muffled as your heart beat continues to thrum inside your head and inbetween your ears. You pace back to meet him, gasping in sharp breathes of the cold morning air as your legs work to carry your exhausted body.

You drop to the ground infront of Oscar and bring your trembling hands up to cradle his face, the stubble along his jaw pricking your palms. His skin feels cool to the touch and beads of sweat are dotted across his forehead. "What happened? Oscar, what is it?"

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. He sucks a sharp breath of air through his clenched teeth. "I...I gotta lay down."

"O-Okay," you murmer. Oscar plants a hand on the ground behind him and begins to recline back. You splay one of your hands against the middle of back, your other still holding the side of his face. "Let me help you, go slow."

Oscar tries to shift his legs out infront of him but his limbs move too quickly, as though they are uncoordinated and weak; he plops down onto his backside with a thud, hissing with pain at the way his body jostles. You coo sympathetically and urge him once again to take it slow. He grunts and lays down flat on his back, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen.

You notice the motion straight away. "What happened to your stomach?"

Oscar gives a slight shake of his head but doesn't open his eyes or say anything. You slide your hand down from his face to where he clutches his stomach. You curl your fingers gingerly around his and try to gently pry them away from the area. At first he resists, but after you whisper a tearful please he relents and uncovers the spot. You gasp when you see that his whole palm is covered in blood.

Oh my god oh my god oh no

There's a ragged hole at the bottom of his jacket. You quickly fumble for the zip and yank it downwards, sweeping the panels to the side of his torso. Oscar allows you to do so without protest, his eyes still tightly closed, clearly battling against the internal agony that has been afflicted upon his body. You grab the bottom of his sweater and hurriedly tug it upward. You are desperate to see the hurt hidden underneath his clothes, desperate to see just how bad the damage is.

When you find the source of his pain, you cannot contain the strangled cry that claws its way up your throat, raw and ugly. There's a small round black hole etched into the left side of his lower belly, just above his hip. It is a clean cut bullet wound with the flesh around it still firm. A thick pool of deep red blood puddles inside it, overflowing into a trickle that spills down to his groin.

It's a gunshot wound. When had he been shot?

"How?" You whisper brokenly, tears springing to your eyes. You grab hold of his bloody hand and squeeze it, wanting to reassure him of your presence, that you're still right next to him.

Why don't you remember?

Everything leading up to this moment is a blur within your memory. You don't have the capacity to realise just why, though. You don't know that while trapped within the chaos inside the cabin, your conscious had been overridden by your will to survive. You don't know you had dissociated, brain detaching from a reality you couldn't cope with. You hadn't remembered Lyle shooting Oscar because your mind was protecting you.

Oscar groans and squeezes your hand in his shaking one. "W-w...what can I do?" You stroke his forehead tenderly. "How do I stop the bleeding?"

"I'm okay, honey," he mumbles, his beautiful dark eyes flickering open to stare up at you. His little round glasses sit crookedly on his face and you gingerly fix them to perch straight on his nose. He offers you a weak smile in return. "Just...just stay right here."

"I'm here," you promise him, stroking over the curls on his temple. "I'm here."

The sound of a gun firing stops Joel's fist from connecting another gruelling punch to the raider's already gruesome face. It is like he's being snapped out of a trance, suddenly propelled from a hellish nightmare back to reality. His vision blurs as he struggles to focus on the scene before him, and it takes several seconds for him to remember just what had transpired within the last ten minutes.

Joel glances down at his hand curled tight into a fist. It's completely coated in blood, and although his knuckles are raw and stinging, he knows the blood doesn't belong to him. His eyes descend to the lifeless body laying underneath his straddling thighs. He sees the grisly wreck of the man's head and it prompts a wave of nausea to lurch in his stomach. He has to quickly swallow the bile that rises in his throat, the bitter acid burning his oesophagus.

Joel can't remember the last time he lost control like this. Maybe a long while before he started living in Jackson. It must have been, for Joel had to learn to hold back on dishing out beatings when he arrived in town. Despite wanting nothing more than to slap the shit out of some of the insubordinate young men around the town, he had quelled his temper with all his might for the sake of Ellie. He had masked so much of himself, of his true nature, all for their chance to carve out a decent life together in the safe community.

But that savage beast of wrath had lain dormant inside him for all this time, waiting for a reason to rear its barbaric head and fight. There had never been a legitimate reason for this vicious part of Joel to show itself while they lived in the haven of Jackson. But then again, nothing had evoked such an intense fury inside him as when the raider threatened your life right infront of him.

You.

His mind panics instantly, your name falling from his chapped lips with an edge of desperation. His head jerks around to where you were left beside the bed. You're gone, the leftover rope hanging limply from the bed frame, the ends frayed. A pocket knife lays on the floorboards where you were sat, its blunt looking blade glinting against the lone ray of sunshine pouring in through the window.

Estrada, the mother fucking prick. Did he really come all this way to get you? And you're gone, but who fired that shot? Are there more raiders out there? That pussy can't keep you safe. He needs to get out there and get you right now.

Joel shoves himself off of the raider's body and staggers to stand up. The bones in his back crack as he straightens upright. His whole body is an aching fucking mess but he refuses to think about pain. He can't. He's got to find you.

He grabs Lyle's gun off the floor and then hastily pulls on his boots, ignoring the blood his smears on every surface he touches. He storms out the bedroom to the front door, his footfalls striking heavily against the floorboards with each purposeful, formidable step. You can't have gone far; Joel knows you can't ride a horse and he's pretty sure the raider shot Estrada, so he's willing to bet you're still in a quarter mile radius.

Fuckin' Estrada. He'll blast the useless son of a bitch to pieces. He'll make you watch, force you to see how no one will ever come between you and he. Finally get it through that head of yours that you only belong with him.

Joel stalks out through the front door, resolution and determination catapulting him forth on his long legs. He's going to have to do something a little more drastic, he thinks, in order to cement his ownership over you, so you and everybody else in this world can see you're his, that you can't run away. Maybe a fucking brand on your skin.

Joel's boots only just meet the snow before he abruptly halts at the fringe of the cabin deck. It turns out you didn't even get past the boundary of the clearing, didn't even get 20 feet from the cabin. Instead you're here kneeling on the ground, Oscar laying down beside you on his back, his head in your lap. It appears intimate, a private moment he has stumbled upon, and it makes his stomach twist with burning possessiveness. He scowls, flexing his hand around the grip of the pistol, the raider's blood already drying and crusting over the broken skin of his knuckles.

Joel calls your name, his raspy voice loud and harsh, cutting through the air like a master commanding his dog. Your head snaps back to face him instantly; wisps of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks, your eyes wide with distress, your nose tinged pink from the cold air and all the crying you've done. You stay kneeling and Oscar remains on his back, which somehow pisses him off even more.

What the hell is going on? And where'd that gun shot come from?

"Goddamn it," Joel growls. He stomps over to you, jaw clenching and unclenching. He's going to drag you back inside by your hair after he kills Oscar. He'll strip you of your clothes and smack your ass until it's black and blue. His anger is palpable, radiating from him like a furnace, and the terror on your face amplifies with every determined step he takes.

"Joel, please," you plead, "don't touch him!"

"Get up and go back inside, right now!" Joel snarls. He'll do as he damn well pleases, and if that includes beating the shit out of Estrada like he did the raider, then so be it.

Joel bends down to grab you by your collar but your hand shoots up and grips around his wrist, your fingernails sinking into his skin. Your red rimmed eyes stare up at him, frantic and imploring.

"Joel, wait, listen to me!" You gasp shrilly. "He's hurt! Look!"

Joel's gaze falls down past your face to where Oscar lays beneath you. He's startled by the change in Oscar's appearance, so unexpected and pitiful that it actually dampens the anger and jealousy seething from his core.

He watches Oscar stare up at you and Joel, brows pulled together in a pain filled wince, a dull quality to his brown orbs. His pallid skin has a waxy sheen to it and there is a blueish tint to his trembling lips. His breaths come out in long stuttering gasps. Joel's eyes trail down to where Oscar's shirt in bunched in your hand and he sees the bloody hole sitting at the bottom of his belly.

You are right. He's hurt. The raider did shoot him.

"Joel, what d-do we do?" You sniffle, tightening your grasp around his wrist. "How do we treat it?"

The internal damage is difficult to assess, but judging from the location of the wound and how Oscar currently looks, the bullet has likely hit some organs, Joel silently deduces. It's dire, and with how Oscar's shivering right now he's not sure how long the man will survive for. Joel has seen his fair share of people die from all different kinds of ailments and wounds. He knows the signs well.

His gaze shifts back to you, jaw ticking as he deliberates his answer. You look so hopeless, so desperate for some kind of confirmation that you can actually do something to remedy the situation. It isn't your fault you're so naive, he reminds himself, and being kind is just part of your nature, so ofcourse you care. Ofcourse you care that Estrada is currently bleeding out in your arms. But God, does he fucking hate that you still care so much about this prick.

"Can't do much for a gunshot wound," Joel delivers the words matter of factly. "Not without all the surgical stuff in Jackson."

"What?" You whisper, your face contorting with disbelieving anguish. You relinquish your hold on his wrist as if the touch of his skin has become too uncomfortable to bear. "No, no. Surely there's something we can do now. We can get the bullet out, right?"

Joel tucks the gun in his pocket and descends down on one knee beside you. He avoids Oscar's eyes, instead training his gaze on the pool of blood seeping inside the wound on Oscar's lower abdomen. He can't soften the blow. It's not that he wants to purposely be cruel, but there's no use lying to you. He scratches the side of his cheek and sighs heavily.

"It's deep," Joel clarifies softly. "Not sure if the bullet hit an organ, but it looks likely. Can't do nothin' for it."

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words, and then your eyes suddenly light up with childlike hope. "Let's go back to Jackson," you blurt out. "Dr. Amber can do it, we can go now."

Joel pins his gaze back to you, keeping his face impassive. He's never seen you like this before - so naive and deluded with optimism, denying the obvious reality of the situation. His heart unexpectedly aches for you.

"It's too far," Joel whispers, schooling his tone to be firm but not unkind. "By the time we get there...he won't make it."

"But we've got to try! Or, or maybe we can get the bullet out ourselves," you ramble in desperation.

He sighs, trying hard to not let his impatience overtake his already limited empathy for your feelings. He places his hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic attempt to ground you, for he takes no pleasure in your current state of misery. "Just told you, we can't do much. Where he got hit...it's too...it's just about impossible..."

Your brows saddle together in defeated despair and you shake your head, fresh tears pooling at your waterline. There's a hint of emotion in your face, dancing within your watery irises and on the curl of your mouth, something that he cannot quite place; amidst the clear pain and grief is something firey, almost wild. Like hatred. Resentment. Blame.

A croak comes from Oscar, prompting you to turn back and dip your head down to his. He's trying to talk but his voice is so muted that Joel cannot hear a word of what he's saying to you. You let out a small whimper and seem to whisper back a reply. The private moment between you two resumes, a confidential bubble that makes Joel feel like an outsider, pathetic and excluded. He clocks the way Oscar's hand clutches yours, the delicate brush of his thumb over yours, and he can't help the envious irritation that rears inside his chest once again, searing hot and bordering on painful.

Joel clears his throat and speaks your name to garner your attention. "Don't know where that gunshot came from. Could be more raiders just around the corner. We gotta go back inside."

You jerk your head back to face Joel again, your features twisted into a glare, distrust and scorn evident in your eyes. "I'm not leaving him," you state defiantly.

"It ain't safe here," Joel bites back. "That shot was close by and it ain't gonna take long for whoever it was to find us."

"I don't care!" You spit out harshly. "You go."

Joel feels as though he has been slapped. How dare you defy him like this? He's trying to protect you, to keep you safe from the potential threat of another raider, yet instead of obeying him you're openly challenging him.

No, there's no way he's leaving you behind with Estrada while the poor fuck bleeds out.

Joel scowls, jaw clenched tight, and leans his head close to yours so that you are forced to look at him. You reflexively flinch away but keep your stare locked on his, bold and obstinate.

"Get up." He orders, voice low and loaded with danger. "'Fore we get killed."

"No!" You argue. Joel glares back at you, harsh breaths huffing through his nostrils. His jaw ticks once, then in one sudden move he's grabbing your arm and roughly hoisting you up on your feet. You squeal and yell at him but he just drags you away from Oscar like a predatory animal lugging its prey toward death, overpowering and tyrannical.

He drags you several yards but stops abruptly when another gunshot suddenly blasts through the air, loud and resonant, unmistakeably closer this time. A mixture of other noises soon follow it, carried along the wind that rushes through the trees, sounds that quickly become more and more clear with each passing second.

Men's voices.

Horse hooves galloping.

Dogs barking.

And then a prominent voice calls out, masculine and commanding.

"Joel!"

Joel's blood runs cold. He knows that voice; he knows it better than anybody else still alive in this world, and to hear it right now makes his stomach churn with anxiety and resentment. He slowly twists his torso around, keeping his grip on your arm tight.

There, at the edge of the small clearing by the south-west woodland, is Tommy. Joel swears under his breath. He is pertrubed at the unexpected sight of his younger brother. Did he really travel all the way from Jackson to track you and Joel down? He's made it all this way out here, and by the sounds of it he has a fucking rescue team with him close by.

Tommy trudges through the snow with a gait almost identical to Joel's, his barrel chest heaving. The expression on his face is one of profound sadness and grave concern, a look that Joel knows well; Tommy was always the more self righteous brother, the bleeding heart, able to make Joel feel criticised and condemned with just a single look.

Joel stays standing where he is, his hand still tightly gripping yours while he keeps his eyes locked on his brother. Tommy closes the gap between you in a series of long, laboured strides, his warm breath conjuring puffs of visible cloud from his lips.

"Jesus, Joel, what did you do?" Tommy rasps in panicked disbelief when he catches sight of Oscar's prone form. "Oh fuck, please don't tell me you killed Oscar."

"I didn't touch him," Joel sneers. "And he ain't dead. We got ambushed by a raider but I took care'a him."

"Oscar's hurt, Tommy," you interject, taking a step forward to try join him. "We need to get him help."

Joel shoots you a disapprovingly glare before he clears his throat and gestures vaguely in Oscar's direction. "He got shot - by the raider, not by me."

Tommy drops down on one knee besides Oscar, hovering his hands over the man's body uncertainly. "Fuck," Tommy whispers as his doleful eyes survey the grievous state of Oscar's belly and the bullet wound. He leans down and brings his gloved hand up to carefully cup Oscar's cheek in his palm. "Hey, Oscar, buddy, can you hear me?"

Oscar blinks slowly up at Tommy and hums softly. "Hey, Tom," he manages to croak out. "Yeah....I can hear you."

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, looks like," Tommy murmers, trying his best to sound light-hearted. "But don't worry, I'm gonna get you back to town and we'll get you fixed right up."

"I'm dying, Tom," Oscar whispers. Tommy sniffs sadly and shakes his head, melancholic denial swimming in his eyes as he stares down at his friend.

"No you ain't," Tommy whispers back, his voice faltering.

"It's okay...," Oscar coos, "just get her back...please, take her back home. Promise me you will."

You can't hear the hushed conversation between Tommy and Oscar, no matter how hard you strain to listen. You wish you could drop to your knees beside Tommy and be a part of what's going on, to hear Oscar's soothing voice assure you that he will be okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks.

But you can't. Your freezing hand is still enveloped in Joel's possessive clutch, anchoring you to the stop next to him. He isn't interested in watching the interaction between his brother and his rival. He keeps a vigilant watch on the woods around you all, slowly turning his head left and right to scan each direction, no doubt still on guard for any possible raiders or infected.

When Tommy eventually rises from the ground and drags his feet back to you and Joel, your heart skips a beat. You wish Tommy would smile at you and confirm that the wound actually isn't that deep, that your dear Oscar will be able to return to Jackson and get stitched up and everything will turn out alright. You peer up at him, expectant and hopeful, but Tommy's morose expression just about crushes any scrap of optimism left in your weary heart. He comes close to you and takes your free hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, totally ignoring Joel beside you.

"Sweetheart," Tommy sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to you. He isn't lookin' good...I don't know....you needa talk with him."

"Why?" Joel cuts in, pulling you back from Tommy and cutting the physical contact between you.

"For God's sake, Joel!" Tommy explodes with exasperation, curling his hands into fists. "You know why! Give her that atleast!"

"Bleedin' heart 'til the day you die, huh Tom?" Joel mocks bitterly, glaring at his brother. Tommy meets his gaze head on, unflinching and firm.

"Doin' what's right, Joel," Tommy replies tightly. "It's time you did, too."

You look between the two of them, too overcome with dizzying emotion and fatigue from the trauma you've endured to properly comprehend the gravity of what's being said. You're fighting to stand on your feet and all you want to do is lay down with Oscar.

"Fine, let's get this over and done with," Joel huffs, releasing your hand. Sensing how you're feeling, Tommy wraps his arm around your back and gently guides you to Oscar, carefully helping you to sit down in the snow.

Your hand automatically slips into Oscar's to give it a delicate and comforting squeeze. He looks even more pale and you notice the way his stomach barely rises and falls with his short, shallow breaths. You bring your other hand up to brush back a curled lock of his hair that sticks to his forehead.

His skin feels so cold.

"Honey," his silky voice husks from between his blue lips. There is a film of tears swimming within his eyes as he stares up at you but his gaze seems more sharp, more focused. You feel as though he's looking right into your soul, his love and adoration piercing directly through your heart, and in this moment you're completely overcome with the intensity of your own love for him.

Oscar is so beautiful, so pure. He came to save you. He risked his own life to rescue you, your own knight in shining armour, and now he lays here wounded and bleeding out. The guilt slices into you sharp and searing, you burst into a sob, lowering your head to his chest. "I'm sorry," you weep. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, honey," Oscar rasps, slowly raising his hand up to stroke your hair. "It's okay."

Joel growls and moves to grab you and intervene but Tommy is quick to block him. Tommy stands inbetween you and Joel and grips his shoulders firmly. "Back off," he commands sternly.

Joel rips his little brother's hands off him and huffs angrily. "Go fuck yourself Tommy," he rumbles. Despite his hatred for what's happening, Joel turns away and retreats a few paces, unable to bear watching the scene. Tommy follows him, allowing you privacy; neither can hear what is whispered between you and Oscar.

Your nose drips from the cold, intermingling with the tears leaking from your eyes. Oscar's hand swipes the hair from your face as he continues to sshhh you gently.

"I love you," you hear his voice purr from within his sternum. "Always...have."

You lift your head to gaze at him, your face inches from his. His brown eyes project the same palpable sincerity that he has always embodied, even amidst the depth of his suffering. There is a tranquil kind of energy swirling within in his irises that you can't quite work out the reason for.

"Always will..." Oscar whispers, slowly tucking a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with an air of reverence.

"I love you too," you mumble through tears. And you do. You truly love him. "I want to go back with you, wanna go back home with you, Oscar." And you do, more than anything else in the world, so much so that your desperation blinds you to the painful reality of Oscar's predicament.

"I can't." Oscar admits in a breathless whisper. "Elvie is waiting for me..."

Elvie? You're confused for a second until your brain kicks into gear. Elvie. The realisation of what Oscar means lands a punch right in the middle of your guts and a strangle gasp falls from your lips. You bring your face to cradle Oscar's cheeks and you lean down to place a kiss on his soft, wind chapped lips.

"Please...." you whisper against his lips, a tear rolling down your cheek and falling to land onto the hollow of his throat. "Don't go..."

He breathes your name ever so delicately. "I love you...."

And then, like a flickering flame of a candle being extinguished in the breeze, the last breath within Oscar's lungs drifts from his mouth and his soul slips away from his body.

A ragged scream rips from your throat, full of anguish and sorrow. It startles Tommy and Joel and they both whirl around to where you kneel on the ground by Oscar. You are slumped over his dead body, forehead pressed to his chest and your balled fists clinging to his clothes.

Tommy hastily springs back to you and crouches down to bracket your shoulders with his hands. He understands the reason got your distress immediately. "Oh, sweetheart," he croons sympathetically. He slips his arm across your clavicle and carefully pulls you into him. "I'm sorry."

You lean back into his chest and let out a howl of anguish. Joel thinks it is just about the most tragic sound he has ever heard. He stands back and watches the scene with the the corners of his mouth downturned in somber silence.

The magnitude of sorrow you express spurns something inside of him that makes his stomach clench and his breath hitch in his throat. When the initial shock dissipates he is left with a severe ache in his chest cavity that threatens to bring him to his knees. The realisation of why comes

Your grief reflects his own.

It reminds him of the day when his world was torn apart, when he had lost the most important thing in his life.

Except the reason for your grief isn't an inescapable cordycep apocalypse; it is Joel himself. He may not have fired the bullet that fatally wounded Oscar but it was the consequences of his actions that led to the man's demise. Joel shakes his head to himself, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. No, he thinks, it isn't my fault. It isn't.

He bows his head and stares at his boots, unable to face the sight of your despair any longer. You wail and bawl for what seems like forever. Tommy keeps you close to him and murmers an occasional hushed I'm so sorry. It continues until you can produce no more your tears and your body lurches with exhausted dry retches. Your cheeks are puffy and splotchy, the rims of your eyes red and swollen.

A long time passes before Tommy manages to persuade you to stand up. He hauls you up and keeps you tightly supported you against his body. You cling blindly to his jacket and nuzzle your face into his chest, finding a small degree of comfort in his warmth and kind commiseration. Another blurred period of time elapses where you allow Tommy to hold you and a quiet falls over the three of you.

Joel doesn't look up until he hears your voice address him, hoarse yet full of venom. He lifts his head and sees you staring at him, your face twisted into a wretched mask of heartache and wrath.

"You," you hiss accusingly, "it's because of you!"

Joel frowns at you and shakes his head, unable to formulate words in a response. He's totally bewildered by your anger.

"You brought me out here! You forced me here and Oscar came to save me!" You snarl. "He would still be alive if you hadn't!"

You struggle against Tommy and he loosens his hold on you. You launch yourself at Joel, half stumbling into him, your fists beating against his chest with all the strength you can muster. Joel's hands cup your elbows so you don't fall over but he does nothing to stop you from unleashing your anger. He let's you punch his chest and slap his face, the impact of your hands leaving no more than a light sting on his cheeks.

He could easily subdue you with nothing more than a solid shove or a quick slap but he doesn't. He stands still, patiently accepting your punishment, waiting until you eventually tire and end up collapsing against his front. You heave and sob with despair, fragile body wracking with the force of your cries, and Joel carefully wraps his arms around you and presses you firmly into him.

"'M sorry," Joel whispers truthfully. And he is. He's sorry that you're heart broken.

"You aren't," you sputter, "you've never been sorry, you don't care!"

You struggle to escape his embrace but he holds you tighter. "I am," he asserts firmly.

You screech and thrash, incensed with anger at the way he seems to lie so easily. "He's dead because of you!"

Joel relinquishes his hold on you just enough to pull you back to look at your face. He is momentarily disturbed by the way your eyes smoulder with hatred and disgust, but he presses on, determined to make his point.

"He's dead because of that raider, not me," Joel argues, "and it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

You shake your head vehemently, detestation written clearly on your face. "That raider could have killed us all! He was going to hurt me and you did nothing! Oscar saved me from that raider, not you!"

Shame heats the back of Joel's neck. He cannot deny that the raider was going to do unspeakable things to you and that he had basically offered you up to the man while he tried to formulate a strategy. It both shames and emasculates him that it was infact Oscar who saved you both from the raider. Joel may have beaten Lyle to death, but it was only because of Oscar that he was able to do so.

He feels like he has failed you.

Just as he failed Sarah. Just as he failed Tess.

"I was gonna---"

"I don't care!" You yell, flinging yourself backward to escape his grasp, but Joel just tightens his hands on your shoulders to keep you close.

Joel has to battle the deeply ingrained instincts that urge him to slap the shit out of you to shut you up. He allows you to be angry and sad, to unleash the emotions you are rightfully experiencing right now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's also aware that Tommy still stands just a few yards away, so he needs to placate you enough to keep control of his temper and to somehow get you alone.

He narrows his eyes and rubs soothing circles over your shoulders with his thumbs. "Let's go back inside the cabin," he drops his voice low in an effort to mollify. "Talk about this when you've calmed down some."

"Talk about what, Joel?" You spit out, fresh angry tears trickling down your cold cheeks. "About how you got Oscar killed? About how you raped me and beat me and then kidnapped me?"

"Christ almighty, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, shaking his head and staring in disbelief at his brother. "Is....is that true? You...you did those things to her?"

Joel doesn't acknowledge his brother; he's so intently focused on you that he can hardly register Tommy's voice. All that matters is you and making you stay with here with him.

"I said I was sorry," Joel swallows the lump in his throat. "I tried, I tried so hard to do right by you. I brought us here so we could start a new life. So you could forgive me."

"What you did to me, Joel...," you whisper, your voice laced with embittered sadness. "That's different. But Oscar....he died because of what you did. And I won't ever forgive you for that."

"But I love you," he murmers, his voice becoming husky with emotion and his eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't...I love you."

"And I loved you once, too, Joel, but how could I after what you've done?" You shove at his chest to punctuate your point. "I hate you!"

The impassioned vigour in your tone and your words cuts through Joel's heart like a knife. It reminds him of Ellie, how angry and betrayed she looked just a few nights ago. He knows you're stupefied with emotion right now, too wrapped up in misery to properly think or follow his commands. But he also knows you aren't lying.

You do hate him.

Just as Ellie does.

The truth fucking crushes his heart into fragments.

Joel's face crumples and he stares at you with crestfallen dismay. His hands release you and he takes a staggering step backward. You stare him down like a feral cat ready to fight, your shoulders raised and your nostrils flared. Tommy steps forward to intervene in the face-off, standing half infront of you.

"Joel...It's over. Let her go," Tommy commands softly, almost pleadingly. "I'm takin' her back to Jackson. I gotta rescue team just over the clearing there."

Joel faces his brother with tears brimming at his lashline. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joel hisses angrily. "This ain't any of your business, Tommy! I don't give a fuck who you got waitin' in the wings!"

"She doesn't wanna be with you," Tommy emphasises, his voice measured and stern. "And you're my brother, Joel, so this is my fuckin' business. I ain't about to let this girl or anybody else get hurt because of you."

"I love her, okay? I fuckin' love her, Tommy," Joel confesses brokenly. "I'll do anythin' to keep her."

"You hurt her, Joel. Jesus, you ra....you...," Tommy has to stop himself from choking on the weighted words that seem lodged inside his throat. He runs a hand through his black curls and shakes his head as he collects himself. "That ain't love."

Your fingertips curl around Tommy's bicep, prompting him to stop from saying anything more. Like a hawk, Joel observes the movement and watches with bated breath as you step out from behind Tommy. He sees that you are no longer crying and that you no longer look angry. Instead, you now look composed. Bold. You stand upright, your body radiating self assuredness, chin tilted upward to meet Joel's eyes head on.

The last time he had witnessed you like this was the time you confronted him about raping you. He sees the same stoicism in your face now - and he can see just how deadly serious you are.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me go," you speak up, your tone smooth and placid despite the challenging significance of your words.

"No," Joel croaks out. His brown eyes, large and glassy, swimming with tears as he gazes at you. "I need you. I need you with me, here."

"I can't stay here, Joel," you say softly. "I can't stay with you."

"I-I can't let you go," he rasps desperately. "You're mine, baby. I can't be without you."

"I've got nothing left to give you, Joel." You shrug with blunt weariness. "You've taken everything from me."

Warm rivulets of tears begin to trickle from Joel's eyes and he sniffs. "I'll give you whatever you need, I'll...I'll make it up to you. Just....please."

You watch him intently, your chin raised with stoic determination, unmoved by his show of emotion. "It's too late."

"No," he pleads, taking a step closer to you. "No, it ain't. It ain't too late."

"I spent too much time letting myself be hurt and unhappy. People like Oscar, like my parents...they don't have the chance to start over. They don't get to try. And I owe it to them to keep going. I owe it to them to be happy."

"You can be happy. You can be happy with me," Joel asserts, his voice wavering with heartache. He reaches out to touch you but you take a step backward. You shake your head gently, your gaze never leaving his.

"No, I can't. You need to control me, Joel - you need to hurt me. How can I be happy like that?"

Joel opens his mouth to speak but no words come. He is at a loss for what to say. He cannot argue against the points you make as they are true - he does need to control you, he does need to hurt you. As much as he could try justifying it as expressions of love and care, it is still the confronting truth of your relationship. He is defeated.

He stays silent for a minute, then forces out a quiet mumble, "give me another chance. Please."

"No, Joel. I won't let you take the chance of happiness away from me," you respond matter of factly. "I'm going back to Jackson with Tommy. Goodbye, Joel."

You turn back and walk over to Tommy, where he stands looking at his older brother with concerned sympathy. He knows Joel won't return to town, knows it would be impossible for him to integrate back into society in a place where his foster daughter and the woman he loves will be absent from his life.

Tommy slings his arm tightly around your shoulders and gingerly guides you away from where you stand. You give Joel once last fleeting look before you turn away and begin moving your feet to follow Tommy.

Joel watches you both trudge through the snow toward the clearing at the edge of the forest. He stands frozen in place, paralysed by the internal dialogue raging within his mind.

She's leaving.

I can't stop her.

She has to go.

She hates me.

She doesn't love me.

This is the right thing to do.

Joel shields his eyes with his hand, unable to bear the sight of you walking out of his life. He hangs his head and heaves out a weighted, heartbroken sigh. The constrain on his emotions quickly cracks and soon he begins to weep. Fat tears pour from his eyes and roll down the bridge of his nose. His weeping escalates into mournful cries that make his shoulders shake and his stomach churn, and he feels his heart squeeze so painfully that he thinks he's on the verge of a heart attack.

He cries now more than he has cried for the last 20 years. Not since the day Sarah died has he cried so much. The repressed emotion he has been habouring throughout all these years is set free and laid bare, and he allows himself to finally feel it all; the heartbreak for his daughter, Sarah, the undying unconditional love for Ellie, and the everlasting yearning for you.

Joel's legs buckle and he collapses onto the snow on his knees. The ice stings the sliced skin on his bare hands but he isn't even cognisant of the pain. All he can perceive is the devastating emptiness now residing within his soul; all that is left now are memories and nightmares, and the agonising regret and grief of losing you.

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[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Chapter I - Wherever We Go, A Hundred Eyes Follow

Summary: Aemond seeks you out so you can go on your first study "date" together, but you have yet to speak to Oscar about what happened the previous night and the agreement you made. But as things go better than expected, you might just end up attracting more attention than you'd prefer

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: Oof, okay here we are, finally! I wanted to get this done sooner but got caught up in a lot of stuff and ended up writing quite slowly, BUT I did manage to get it out before the year ended so that is that.

I’m quite excited for this story, and have quite a bunch of ideas for where I’m going with this. The only thing I think is worth adding in terms of additional context for this chapter is that I decided to keep the fact that the Targaryens are dragonlords and can ride dragons. But because of that I cannot add any dragons to the Tournament Tasks, as it would be seen as unfair and possibly count as an advantage to Aemond.

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

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You were fucked. There was no sugarcoating it. You were absolutely fucked.

After Aemond had left the library, leaving you behind to pick your jaw off the floor, you headed straight to the Hufflepuff common room. You were determined to tell Oscar everything that had happened down to a T, but you took one look at him, staring at you with that sweet and hopeful gaze and immediately chickened out, opting to quickly retreat to the girls dorm where he couldn’t reach you.

And now as you headed for breakfast you knew you should have told him. You had agreed to breakfast with Aemond, which meant he would come find you and Oscar would find out you had agreed to Aemond’s stupid plan when you had promised him you wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be easier to search for Aemond directly at the Slytherin table, that way you could stave off the inevitable conversation you would need to have with your brother. 

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the Slytherin table, nor those of the other houses. Not even near the professor’s table where he would sometimes walk up to in order to strike up conversation with one professor or another (what they talked about was beyond you, no matter how curious it made you). He was absolutely nowhere to be seen, throwing a wrench in your plans to intercept him before he could find you.

Resigned, you walked slowly to the Gryffindor table where Davos and your brothers were already seated. Considering that both Cregan and Alysanne were also seated at their house’s table, quite a few seats down from the three boys, you suspected Kermit and Davos had chosen to seat there for your sake, to simultaneously keep the couple out of your sight and avoid a situation like the night before but also not to force you to stay within close proximity of them. You were thankful really, while Cregan was not the first thing on your mind at the moment it still stung to see them being happy together.

“Hey!” Kermit greeted you, his mouth full of sausage “How are you on this fine morning?”

You knew he was trying to divert your attention from some people, and while it wasn’t entirely working, you were grateful for his attempt, for him. For all of them.

“Eh,” you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant while taking a seat across from him and Kermit “could be better.”

Oscar waited until you were comfortable next to him and had already filled up your plate before leaning ever closer to you.

“So, how was it?” he spoke, his voice low.

“How was what?”

Oscar scoffed, a deadpan stare thrown your way.

“You know, the whole thing with Targaryen?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fear gripping at it as you pondered your answer. Oscar was going to be so disappointed when he found out. God, you didn’t want to lose the respect of one of the few people who you had left. You sighed, deciding it was better to tell him now than let him figure it out on his own later.

“Uhm, actually-” you started, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

“Lads,” Aemond’s voice cut you off, your name rolling smoothly off his tongue before pointing to the spot on the bench next to you “is this seat taken?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, already sliding in next to you way closer than necessary as the boys stared at him flabbergasted, their jaws dropping. Oscar was the only one who got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing in your direction in a way you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

“Targaryen.” Kermit greeted coldly “You seem a bit lost, the snakes’ table is over there.” 

“Tully,” Aemond answered in kind, although his tone carried less venom in comparison “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And what could you possibly want here?” Davos chimed in.

Through their whole exchange you couldn’t properly focus, the feeling of Aemond sitting way too close to you pulling your attention away from the conversation at hand. His leg was flush with yours on the bench, the entire length of his thigh pressed against yours and his shoulder bumping into your own pulling your whole focus towards him.

“We are heading to Professor Orwyle’s class then we are going to study together.” your attention was pulled back into focus as Aemond said your name.

“You two? Study together?” Oscar was still more skeptical than Kermit and Davos.

“Yes,” the Slytheirn boy shrugged, nonchalantly, and for a moment you feared he was going to reveal your whole ruse but he surprised you even further “I promised to help her with her History of Magic studies and, in turn, she’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the Tournament.” 

Oscar seemed unconvinced but let it slide in favor of eating his breakfast in peace, but one glare from him in your direction let you know that you had a lot of explaining to do later on. Your twin and your cousin seemed to get distracted by the mention of the Triwizard Tournament, starting to animatedly argue about past editions (or, in Kermit’s case, sulk, as he had applied for the Tournament and eventually lost the role of Hogwarts’ champion to Aemond, something he was still somewhat resentful about).

You tried going back to your breakfast, hell bent on not attracting any more attention back to yourself and your current incredibly awkward situation, but that quickly went out the window when Aemond leaned even closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

“It seems Stark and his new girl are staring.” he whispered, and you could tell from his voice alone that his lips were turned up in a smirk.

And true to his word, both Cregan and Alysanne were staring at your little group, more specifically you and Aemond. Alysanne seemed a little weirded out by the whole exchange, but ultimately shrugged, going back to her cuppa. Cregan on the other hand looked positively bothered by the sight, his eyes narrowing even further as Aemond cheekily bumped his shoulder against yours, as if he had simply whispered a funny joke to you.

As much as you loathed to admit, and even though it went completely against what you had told Aemond last night, a bittersweet satisfaction started growing in your chest at the reaction you elicited from your ex-boyfriend. While you didn’t wish to make him jealous, you truly wanted nothing to do with the guy anymore, you didn’t mind shoving in his face that you had already moved on from him, that his actions didn’t bother you at all (even though in reality they did). 

“I would say our little… plan is already working, don’t you agree?” Aemond continued whispering, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You hummed in agreement, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. You’d occasionally see Oscar glancing at you quizzically from the corner of your eye but he didn’t say anything else. You felt awful hiding things from him, but what could you do? Come clean to your brothers and cousin and just hope the rest of the Gryffindor table simply didn’t hear a thing? No, the less people knew your little stunt with Aemond was a ruse the better. You’d tell him later that night.

After you were both done eating, Aemond pulled you up and out of the Great Hall, regardless if your brother Kermit, who was usually your partner for Potions class, wasn’t finished yet.   

“I’m sure he can partner up with Bracken for today’s class, can’t you Tully?” he asked, knowing full well your brother truly disliked Aeron on behalf of Davos.

You felt eyes on you all the way down to the dungeons; people from every house were staring at the two of you, the way Aemond’s palm rested on you just shy of the small of your back, pushing, no, guiding you forward. If this was an indicative of a pattern that would remain present the rest of your time together, you just knew it was going to be a long day.

It was, indeed, a long day. 

During Professor Orwyle’s class the hairs on the back of your neck refused to go back to their usual position, a prickling sensation on the back of your mind telling you everyone was staring at you. And it wasn’t just your self-consciousness making things up in your head: more than once you caught another student glancing your way, quickly averting their gaze once they realized they’d been caught. The only one who was brave enough to keep on staring even after being noticed was Maris Baratheon, and by the glint in her eye you simply knew it couldn’t mean anything good. 

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that being in the spotlight brought you. And Aemond? He didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, completely unbothered as he led you through the hallways towards the library. The walk had been made even longer than usual for he had to take a detour to grab something from the Slytherin common room, giving other students ample opportunity to continue their scrutiny.

“Everyone is looking at us.” you spoke, voice lowered to try not to attract more attention to yourself.

“No, they aren’t.” he said, walking between rows of bookshelves and collecting an assortment of different books.

“Yes, they are!” you said in an exasperated whisper, trying to keep your voice down in order to not attract any attention from Professor Strong, the librarian (though rumor has it his true ambition was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class over his brother).

“Then just don’t mind them.” he shrugged, turning around towards you and placing the ever growing pile of books on your arms with a sigh “Look, let them stare. The more people see us together, the more believable it becomes. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

No, that’s what you wanted! you thought, but given your feelings towards Cregan’s reaction this morning you knew he was right.

“Now stop worrying and go find us a table, I’ll be there in a second.” he was off before you could question him further, leaving you to carry the books to the nearest table.

Aemond returned quickly enough, carrying yet another book with him. This one though was unlike any you had ever seen before, its hardcover weathered, either from old age or from excessive use you couldn’t tell.

“What is that?” you nodded towards his hands.

He placed the tome on the table as he sat down in front of you, staring at you quizzically.

“A book?” 

“I’m not stupid, dragonbrain, I know it’s a book!” you snapped at him, offended “I just meant which book.”

He hummed, amused at your snippiness, and pushed the book towards you.

‘Secrets Of The Dark Arts And How To Spot Them, by Archmaester Gyldayn.’ the cover read, and something dawned on you.

“This is from the Restricted Section.” you stated, to which he hummed in agreement, not bothering with a verbal response “How did you even get this?”

Aemond stared at you then, really stared at you, his one good eye settling on your face with such an intensity you had to look away. Something in the way he looked at you intimidated you now, whereas in the past, before, you felt safe under his gaze. Seen.

“I asked Mister Strong to open the Restricted Section for me.” he said casually, breaking his intense stare to flip over the pages of one of the other books he had selected.

“And he did? Just like that?”

His lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, but something about it felt… wrong. Bitter almost.

“The perks of dating his much younger step-sister I guess.” 

Ah. 

That made sense. You always suspected Alys Rivers was related to Professors Harwin and Larys Strong, but could never make the connection. 

“Okay,” he stopped flipping the book, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. You weren’t going to probe any further, but if you had any intentions to, this was his way of signaling the previous conversation was over “We’ll start from the beginning.”

Glancing at the open book he turned towards you, you caught a glimpse of a familiar painting, three white-haired siblings atop their dragons with their wands raised.

“The Conquest?” you questioned, pulling the book from his hands “That’s First Year material.” 

“I know, but it’ll be easier to catch up on the more recent content if you have a stronger base.” he explained, and although all he was saying made sense, it still vexed you somewhat.

“But I already know all of this!” you whined, immediately regretting it, for it made you feel childish. Once upon a time you had been sure he wouldn’t judge you for such a thing, but now? You barely knew him anymore.

“I know for a fact you doze off in almost all of Professor Mello’s classes.” he replied, smugly. 

Something weird, a feeling you couldn’t quite place, stirred in your chest at the thought of him noticing you in class, but you quickly brushed it off.

“I didn’t pick this up from Mello’s class.” you countered, and his face fell for a moment.

Your summers leading up to your First Year were more often than not spent in the Targaryen’s household. At the time you were quite close with two of the white-haired siblings, Aegon considering himself too old for your childish antics and Daeron too young to join in yet. At the time you’d even go as far as to call Aemond your best friend, before Helaena inevitably took the title after… everything. Back then, he’d spend his days showing you paintings and illustrations of his ancestors, of Aegon I and his sister-wifes arriving from Old Valyria and founding Westeros as it was known today. Although the Targaryen family lost a lot of their former glory (even though they remained quite influential still), it was clear Aemond was proud of his roots, a glint in his eye whenever he mentioned most people from his bloodline.

He grew silent, as he couldn’t deny what you were saying. You wondered if you were wrong to bring this up, for you felt incredibly unprepared to open this specific can of worms right now, but it seemed the feeling was mutual, as he grabbed the book from your hands and propped it up on the table, the pages facing him so you wouldn’t peek.

“Alright then. If you say you already know all of this,” he smirked once more, and you started rethinking your choices leading up to this moment “how about a pop quiz?”

It wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You managed to get through the whole of The Conquest without fumbling, all the way to when Aegon defeated the dark wizard Harren the Black in his castle, Harrenhal (which some believe was demolished, and Hogwarts was built on top of its ruins). After that point, though, the details started getting a little confusing, your mind jumbling dates and locations into an incomprehensible mess inside your head. Aemond then promised to help you study from then on out, little by little, three times a week.

“We have till the end of the year to turn you into a History of Magic expert,” he had said.

“Till Christmas, you mean.” you pointed out, remembering your previous agreement, to which he shrugged, humming a ‘whatever you say’ under his breath.

You started collecting your things, but paused when he didn’t follow suit, only picking up another book from the pile. Herbology.

“That’s certainly… an interesting selection.” you commented, only now noticing the different subjects all the books covered.

“I have some research to do.” he said, not taking his eyes off the page.

Something he had said earlier came to the front of your mind.

“She’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the tournament.” 

“Is it about the first task?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

He hummed in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

He shook his head with a sigh, finally looking up at you.

“I do have a hunch, but it’s fickle. A hypothesis really.”

“Do you need any help ‘brainstorming ideas’?” you quoted him.

He chuckled, amused. 

“Next time perhaps. You did well today, you deserve your rest.” your cheeks felt warm under the praise, and you had to look away from him for a moment “But I will be taking you up on that offer. If I remember correctly, you used to be quite good at solving puzzles.”

It was strange, really, how much he still knew about you even after so long without speaking to one another. You’d have to get used to it again.

After saying your goodbyes you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room, a light feeling in your chest. The ‘study date’ had gone well, not at all as bad as you had predicted it would be, unashamed stares from other students aside. But then a cold, bitter guilt replaced that nice feeling, damping your mood slightly.

You had to tell Oscar. He deserved to know.

Feeling determined, then, you entered the common room, resolute in looking for your brother. But, (un)fortunately, you didn’t have to look very far, for you found him sitting in one of the couches facing the entrance of the common room, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“How was your study date with Aemond Targareyn?” he questioned, his voice hard.

Panicking, you gripped his upper arm, not minding his yelps of pain as you pulled him to a distant corner, away from the other students.

“It wasn’t a date.” you hissed.

“No?” his voice held a hint of sarcasm “Because Kermit said you two were awfully close in class-” 

“It wasn’t a real study date.” you interrupted him, keeping your voice down and mentioning for him to do the same.

“How so?” he still seemed mad, but at least now he was whispering as well “You just pretended to study?”

“No, the studying part was real.” you averted your eyes from him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment “It was the date part that was fake.”

“Again, how so?”

Time to come clean.

“Yesterday Aemond asked me to…” it sounded stupid now that you said it outloud “pretend we’re going out together. And it will culminate in me being his date to the Yule Ball.”

“What?!” he squeaked, and you shushed him, worried about people overhearing your conversation “So he wants you to be his pretend girlfriend?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And you agreed?!” 

“I panicked, alright?!” you already felt stupid enough about your decisions without him scolding you like a child.

“What does he even get out of this?” he asked, exasperated “And what about Alys Rivers?”

“His admirers backing off, I think. And apparently they broke up over summer.” his jaw dropped “I know, surprised me too.”

His face softened a fraction, finally getting over the shock.

“And what’s in it for you?” his tone dripped concern, and you felt your heart clenching with love for your younger brother.

“I-I’m not sure, exactly. To show Cregan I’m no longer hung up on him? To prove to people I’m not pathetic?”

“You are not pathetic.”

“Sometimes feels like I am.” you shrinked into yourself a bit “You know how much it hurt.”

Oh, he knew. He was the one who found you after you had read Cregan’s letter, curled into a ball on your bed, clutching the roll of parchment to your chest as tears steadily ran down your cheeks. 

“I know.” he placed a gentle hand on your arm “But do you think this is a good idea? This is Aemond Targaryen we’re talking about.”

You smiled at his worried face, ruffling his hair.

“I can look after myself, you know.” you grinned at the grimace that covered his face as he tried to fix the mess that you had made of his locks “It wasn’t all that bad today. And besides, it’s only until Christmas.”

He still seemed hesitant, but slowly nodded.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

Your grin softened, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

“I promise.”

He squeezed you back and you knew everything would turn out okay in the end. You just had to endure it until Christmas. 

Right?

Tag List:

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@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@bey0nd-1he-stars

[tiny-crescent]

pas de trois – chapter 6. curtain call

the end! this is the final chapter of pas de trois. :')

what started as a teeny tiny vague nugget of an idea (I wanna write a story involving a string of conflict between Ide, Light, and Matsuda during the days leading up to Yellow Box ??? with alternating POVs and angst ? a lot of angst?? with dancing/acting/play motifs??? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️), snowballed into this. it was a fun story to craft, albeit long and challenging, but I loved writing it. and it's sad to say goodbye. :')

I hope you've enjoyed it!! ♥ it was a genuine pleasure to share this fic and see each chapter with fresh eyes through other people's reactions. it's just my silly little self-indulgent thing, but I really mean it when I say it was special to me –the experience writing it and posting it, discussing it with readers– all of it! ♥ So, thank you very much for reading!!! I'm gonna go cry now

[zephyra-in-the-house]

Okay HI. I came across your tumblr earlier this week by complete coincidence, and you’re the author to Second Chances!!! I LOVE YOU. I just read chapter 25 Friday night and I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you have a Shadowpeach playlist, or any other songs you associate with them? I’ve been listening to Honeybee by the Steam Powered Giraffes since Friday morning and I am in love with the song!! Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense, I just got WiFi back from the hurricane, so yeah 😭 thank you in advance!!

YESSSS!!!!!

Dude Honeybee is such a good song man it hits me right in the feels every time~

And I do actually have playlists associated with Second Chances!! I've already made one public so far which is this one:

This first one is from Macaque's Perspective (for the most part). It goes through the entire timeline of him falling in love with Wukong all the way to their fallout during the brotherhood and so on and so forth. It's currently sitting at 218 songs which is 13hrs+ of listening time- and counting.

I haven't made the other one public yet because it didn't have many songs but I do have another one that is completely from Wukong's perspective which is here:

This one is still being added onto and organized but the storyline is starting to come together very slowly. It's sitting at 97 songs and 6hrs of listening time at the moment.

I hope you guys enjoy!

[glitzbot]

omg i love your stolitz art so much! you are so talented!! i’ve never read fan fics before but i read your fic “Forgot not to fall for you” and you’re just incredible! When will the next chapter be released? (no rush of course just excited!) :)

AWWW thank you so much!! don't worry, I don't feel rushed, just very flattered!

next week is free and clear for me, so I'm really hoping to bang the next chapter out!! I miss the story too, I wanna get back into it!

thanks again for reading and letting me know you enjoy it!