#golden child fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shhh-secret-time · 1 year ago

Note

The soulmate AU fic’s are so cute 🥹🥹 I’m so incredibly in love with your writing! The Stan fic made me giggle so much 💙💙 HE IS PERFECT

I’d love to request one for Kenny if you’re not totally sick of the soulmate stuff 😂🩷

Anon. I need you to listen to me carefully. I will never, ever, be tired of soulmate stuff.

In fact, that's it. You're getting the softest Kenny fic of your life! Maybe

Warning: Body Horror, Blood, Injury, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Anxiety, a bit of depression. Violence.

Pairing: Kenny x GN!Reader

One of your favorite lessons growing up was the time your class learned about plants. You and your fellow classmates all sat at your desk with a little pot of soil to call your own. It didn't mean much to you at first, but as the class went on and the teacher her lesson it began to sink in.

This was life.

You remember going starry eyed as she pressed the smallest little seed into the dirt and poured a little water onto it. This woman had introduced you to something so simple yet so beautiful. How a little sunlight and a little bit of water could grow into something so gorgeous. So, you dedicated the next few months to that little seed. Staying awake late at night whispering secrets to it like an old friend, making sure it was nice and watered.

Needless to say, you cried when your little plant didn't sprout as quickly as everyone else's. You didn't understand what you were doing wrong. Your teacher tried to reassure you that you were doing fine.

Your name falls from her lips as she helps you wipe the tears from your eyes. "You're not doing anything wrong. Plants can be complicated. Some take a little longer than others but there's nothing wrong with them or with what you're doing!"

At the time she was talking about the plant, but as you got older the words stuck with you. And maybe she really was just talking about the little seed, but as you got older it got harder to not apply it to people.

You watched as people took to their own colors, growing and being shaped by the world around you. Some grew thorns, others grew branches. Most planted their roots, souls intertwined with the small town of South Park.

So why did it feel like you were the only one still in the ground, barely sprouting?

You're not doing anything wrong.

God, you wish you could believe her.

But it was hard when you were so overwhelmed with comparing yourself to the others. You weren't athletic like Stan or Red. You weren't top of your class like Kyle or Wendy. You didn't have the charm of Jimmy or Nichole. No, you were just you. What was special about you?

Kenny McCormick could. The blond could write a book on all the things that made you special. Pages filled with how kind you were, how you lit up every room you walked in even if you didn't realize it. If he was a smarter man, he'd probably find a way to compare you to some sunrise. Something beautiful!

Instead, all he can come up with is a dandelion. You may not be the most exotic plant in a flowerbed, but you were beautiful. Like dandelions you were everywhere to him. Under the gentle rays of the sun, pushing through the cracks of the sidewalk; brightening up his day. He saw you on the side of the road waving to him with a gentle sway, yellow petals beckoning him over. He saw the way you stretched up and up past the others eventually changing to those puffy little white balls.

But he's not a smart man, and on top of that he had a reputation. Kenny loved people, he loved that people loved. He loved his three asshole friends; he loved them more than they deserved. He loved his sister, the best thing to ever come from his parents, and that included him. Sometimes that love came out a little too much, he just had so much of it to give. Because like you, Kenny never really felt like he was good enough.

In a world of soulmates, love was hard. If Kenny caught ink on skin that seemed to change, or paragraphs of words on people's arms, he knew that his love would just be temporary for them. He often wondered if you had anything like that. Maybe a tattoo somewhere on your body that would indicate who your soul was bound to. The thought would keep him up at night because no matter how many times he checked; Kenny never saw ink. Never saw pictures or words with someone's thoughts. Stan and Kyle always were the lucky ones.

Lucky people don't lie in a dirty alley with their sides split open. Lucky people don't have to clench their sides to try to stop their blood from slipping out of them.

How could he be so careless? He'd done this song and dance for years now, ever since he was old enough to throw a fist and really make it hurt. Some nights it felt like this was the only thing he was good at, taking a hit and getting back up. Kenny McCormick was the world's punching bag.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and God it felt so good. To just let his eyes rest for a moment, he's been running on Monday's sleep, and it was fucking Wednesday. A small part of him thought about just letting sleep take him, how would it be different than his room?

Oh, but Karen.

And those guys trying to mug that poor woman, yeah, they were still a thing.

Kenn- no Mysterion pulls himself to his feet, the long purple cape hides his shaky legs. Yeah, Kenny might be the world's punching bag, but Mysterion fucking hits back. The dark purple gloves, now stained with a dark red, press into the wound trying to staunch the flow. His vision was getting dizzy, but he wasn't seeing black yet. He still had time before he'd wake up in bed again. Just enough time to break a few bones.

Meanwhile across town you sat in the living room of your small apartment, whatever YouTube video playing in the background. A nice little book rests in your hand, it was a quiet night for you. Most of them were as your apartment was just you and your little cat, the chunky little lady rest by your feet happily purring, just content to be around you. Well, you, your cat, and your plants. Right beside you were pots filled with various plants you'd grown over the years. From seasonal flowers to three different shaped bonsai trees, to various colored succulents, and finally your favorite Orchid. The beautiful purple flower had bloomed recently, and it was your pride and joy.

Everything was perfect, no stress about having to be better than you are. No deadlines or classes that made you feel dumb. No obligation to socialize and try to entertain people you didn't exactly call friend. That is until the sharp pain in your side made you scream out. Your cat jumping away from you and cowering on the other side of the couch, she looks terrified.

Right along your side, just below your rib, felt like it was being ripped apart. Like someone was taking their nails and pulling your skin apart. You lift your shirt and stare down in horror, as bright red spider lilies sprout from your skin. Thick green stalks wrap around each other and soon the crimson petals sprout out, it would be gorgeous if it wasn't in your skin. You feel like you're about to pass out, the sudden act was enough to make your body start shaking.

"W-What the- what the hell?!" You want to scream, want to cry out but all that comes out is a hushed whisper.

Luckily the pain stopped as soon as the flower finished blooming, the pain dulled down to a low buzzing around your skin. Your hands were shaking as your fingertips traced the flowers, unable to comprehend what was really happening. You blink, and then you blink again and again. They're still there and the velvet petals under your fingers were real.

Impulsively you moved the flowers apart until you found the base of the stem, there you saw how your skin meld together perfectly with the plant. It was like they were always a part of it. With a deep breath you grab the plant by the stem and pull. The pain it shoots through your body is unlike anything you've ever felt before, but it offers no resistance as it comes out of your body.

You squeeze your eyes expecting blood or at least a wound, but you don't feel your skin rip open. Instead, it feels like something has slipped from your skin, like pulling string through a closed fist. Through heavy breathing you open your eyes, and you felt your heart start to settle, the beautiful flowers were now tightly clenched in your fist roots and all. On closer inspection they had little drops of water on the petals as if they had just been watered. It was only then you realized you had been crying.

You couldn't sleep for the rest of the night, tossing and turning as your hand kept coming up to your sides. The area was numb, it didn't hurt but you couldn't get the image out of your head. It made your skin crawl and the shiver down your spine felt sharp, sharp enough to make your back arch. As the morning sun greeted you letting you know it was time to get up and start the day, the first thing to greet you were the spider lilies sitting next to you. You don't know why you didn't just throw them away, get rid of them and never think about it again, but they really did look so beautiful.

Now they were sitting on your nightstand next to the window, dancing back and forth as the little draft that entered your apartment led them in a waltz. As you pull back the blankets and your feet hit the cold floor of your apartment, your fists clench around the blankets as you stare down in horror.

Your knuckles were covered in poppies, little sprouts pushing in between the dips of your fingers. On your right hand they were much larger blooms and more prominent on the knuckle itself. You hiss at the way it parts your skin, much less clean than the spider lilies were. The poppies wiggle a bit making room as another one pushes up and breaks your skin. This time there is a little blood, not more than a paper cut would give you but still it was alarming.

Rushing to your bathroom you run your hand under the water, the fast-running water slamming down on the little red petals. Another red flower. Another flower meaning pain or death. You're much more careful this time, gently plucking the poppies up from your skin and placing them to the side on the wet counter. They come up just like flowers last night, with ease and when you inspect your knuckles there's nothing as if it was never there.

"Guess I'll get a pot for you guys..." You mutter to the flowers, rubbing your hand over your knuckles.

There was a part of you that thought about emailing your professor as to why you wouldn't be coming to class, but what would you even say?

Good morning Professor,

I won't be able to attend class today, I am not feeling well, and I was wondering if I could get the notes for today's class from you. I sincerely apologize and hope that I will recover soon.

Good morning Professor,

I won't be attending class today as I had a family emergency come up! I hope you understand, and I will be in class when everything settles down.

Hey Professor,

I've got fucking flowers growing out of my fucking skin! You know anything about that?!

You let out a loud groan and lean forward on your desk, pushing your laptop to the side. Your sweet little roommate jumps up and meows at you in response, she nudges her head against yours and puts her paw on your cheek. A small attempt to make you feel better, she's trying. When you don't move, she meows again only louder this time, her head smacking into yours.

"Ow! Okay! I know I can't just sit here all day." She looks at you when you lean up and snap back.

She sits all prim and proper as you get up from your seat, she watches as you pace around the room and gather everything you need for the day. When she meows again you stop and look back at her, conversations with your cat weren't uncommon some days it felt like she was the only one you could really talk to. It was sad but it was better than spending nights alone talking to your plants.

"Look, I've got to go. I'm paying for the stupid classes I might as well just go. I just have to hope that whatever happened last night, doesn't happen again!" You grab your coat and throw it over your arm, giving her one last look. "Maybe I can talk to someone there? Maybe someone knows what this is, until then you're in charge of the house! No eating the plants while I'm gone!"

When she doesn't meow back at you, you narrow your eyes at her in suspicion. "I'm serious!" She jumps off your desk and walks over to the couch where she rolls on her back. Not a care in the world.

Curse that cat and her adorable behavior. You've got no choice but to trust that she'll behave. On your way out you grab your keys and make your way down the steps of your little home. Days where it was nice and sunny out made you happy you live so close to your college campus, other days it was a drag to get out of bed.

The rest of the day went by quietly, just how you like it. You couldn't help but fidget in your seat out of fear of spontaneous flower growth. What if a really large plant came out of your back while you were sitting in front of someone? If it was like the spider lilies last night, you'd most definitely scream out in pain and that would be embarrassing. Once class let out you were the first one out of your seat, practically bolting to the door.

This was getting to be too much, you had to find someone to talk to about this. The anxiety of when it would happen again was overwhelming. As you pass the little library you stop and check the inside, maybe you didn't have to talk to anyone about this. Maybe it would be in a book or at the very least you could try googling it.

As you walk into the quiet little domain you spot a few other students standing around talking to one another. Some sitting by the common tables, others tapping away on the public computers. Just as you're about to make a beeline for one of the computers tucked away in the corner, a soft voice stops you almost making you leap out of your skin.

"Hey, are you okay? Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" The voice was so gentle and soft, you turned to see Heidi Turner smiling at you.

Heidi Turner was one of the sweetest people in the school, she went through leaps and bounds to be a better person after high school. Most days she keeps herself either in the library offering to tutor other students, or volunteering around town in various ways. She was always kind to you, and you always wanted to call her a friend but something stopped you. Even though she was a sweet girl, that fear of bothering her was still there.

"Oh um...it's okay! Really, I was just uh...going to use one of the computers. Is that okay? Am I allowed?" God, you want to find a hole to crawl into and just die.

"Of course you can! I was actually coming over to see if I could help you find something, but it looks like you've got it all figured out!" She beams up at you with a little giggle.

You think for a moment, if you had to tell anyone about the situation you were in Heidi was a good person to tell. She wouldn't go around telling other people and it wasn't like you had anyone else to really confide in. So, you take a deep breath and go to stop her from walking away. "Ac-Actually Heidi, um could you help me with something? Real quick."

Heidi stops and turns back to you; she cocks her head when she sees the nervous look in your eyes. Now she looks worried, not scared you think but concerned. She walks closer to you and gestures for you to follow her towards the computer, when the two of you are far enough away from the other students she whispers.

"I had a feeling you were looking for a friend, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

A friend? She thought you guys were friends? That alone was enough to make you relax a little and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You rub your arms a little and look behind you before responding.

"I'm really freaked out Heidi and I don't know how to talk about it."

"Hey, it's okay. Take it slow, I'm right here. Is someone hurting you?"

Your eyes widen at that, and you quickly shake your head at her. "What? O-Oh no no! It's not someone it's- well it's something?" When she looks at you confused, you groan and shake your head. "I mean something happened last night and it's really freaking me out!"

You tell her the events that transpired last night, avoiding the gruesome details as to not freak her out. You expect her to call you crazy or to laugh in your face, but she doesn't.

No, instead she stands there and nods along with you. Even offering her hand to you to take when you start to tear up, the fear of it happening again came crashing down mid-story. She offers you a gentle smile, rubbing your back as you try to calm down.

"It sounds like a soulmate thing." You rub your eyes at her as she speaks, trying to get the tears spilling from your eyes out.

"A... soulmate thing? But why now, and why this?"

"It takes some people a little longer before their soulmate signs trigger. I run a support group for people who run into theirs a little late, or for people who don't have any at all." Heidi says it as if it's the most normal thing in the world to her.

You stare at her in awe for a little while, clinging on to every word with such desperation. She was like an angel, a guardian angel telling you there was nothing to worry about and that this was normal.

"As for why your trigger is this...I don't know. Triggers manifest differently for each person, there's a lot of studies on soulmates. I'm sure someone at the school is much smarter than I could tell you." She pauses for a moment and her eyes light up with excitement. "But hey! This means you've got a soulmate, I'm just sorry it's so painful for you!"

On the other side of the library Kenny was lying on one of the little bean bags chairs the school threw in for comfort. Tucked away in some corner, his plan was to take a little nap in. Somewhere where he knew his friends wouldn't come looking for him, well Kyle might but he'd never thought to find Kenny here. But when you walked in with that look of panic on your face he sat right up, like he had just gotten a full eight hours of sleep.

Why did you look so terrified? What was going on? Did you need someone? You were looking around the library like you were being followed.

These thoughts began pounding at the front of his mind and just as he was about to stand up and walk over to you, Heidi beat him to it. He couldn't make out everything you were saying, but from the way you whispered to the smaller brunette it sounded serious. His lavender eyes follow you into the other corner of the library, the one right across from him.

He should look away; he should mind his own business and try to shut out your conversation. But he can't help it, he knows it's rude, but he can't get the image of your scared face out of his head. So, he closes his eyes and tries to hone in on your conversation with Heidi. It takes everything in his power not to get lost in the way you speak; your voice was so soothing. Kenny imagined it was what honey melting in tea would sound like if it had a voice.

That's when the topic of soulmates came up. He jolts up again and his eyes widen over at you as you describe the flowers sprouting from your skin. The hands resting in his orange patchy parka shuffle over to the wound on his side, or at least where it was. Like every time he died, he'd wake up with his body fully healed with no scars or signs of his life being taken from him.

However, if he didn't die his body would keep the scratches and little wounds on his body. Earlier this morning he got a little careless and split his knuckles, maybe he was putting into many hours as Mysterion here of late but if those stalkers didn't want to be punched, they shouldn't be stalking people. He nearly leaps from the bean bag when you talk about poppies growing from your knuckles this morning, telling Heidi the exact location where he had split his.

His heart was racing, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no way he was that lucky, that he was that deserving that someone like you would be his soulmate. Just before he can stand up the universe reminds him just how unlucky he really is.

"Kenny! There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you dude!" Any other time he would have been happy to hear Stan's voice, happy to see the others following right behind him.

"This is so sad you guys.... Kenny is sleeping in the library now. Is your cardboard bed that uncomfortable?" Any other time Kenny would have shut Eric down with a comeback of his own, but all he could muster was a glare. "Whoa what crawled up your vagina this morning?"

"God damn it Cartman quit it and stop waving that fishing pole around! You've got fucking hooks on it!" Any other time Kenny would have ignored Kyle's yelling, the ginger looked for any excuse to yell at Eric.

"Guys! Look I'm really not in the mood to-" But before Kenny could finish, Eric swung around to face the man yelling at him.

The metal hook at the end of Eric's fishing rod that he was carrying around for god knows why, slammed into the side of Kenny's face. The sharp hook caught the side of his cheek and pierced through the flesh. Instead of screaming out in pain he bit his lower lip and muffled it, once you've been stabbed in a dark alley trying to fight off a group of people it just becomes second nature.

"Dude!"

"Oh, shit Kenny!"

"Sick! You're getting blood everywhere!"

Kenny didn't have time for this, not when you were-

Oh god you.

His eyes dart over to where you were standing with Heidi, silently praying to whatever poor god that would listen to him that you were alright. He watches as you cup the side of your face, hesitating for a moment before your fingers met the cluster of clovers growing on the side of your face.

It doesn't hurt this time. Not like the last few times, in fact it feels gentle. Fingers that aren't yours caressing the side of your face, a whisper of something more, that clumsy first kiss, all of it wrapped up in one little moment. The three leaf clovers bloom across your cheek stopping just at the edge of your lips where finally a single six leaf clover sprouts.

He doesn't wait another moment; with his gloved hands he takes the fishing line that connects the hook in his face and his friends fishing pole and snaps it. His friends watch in horror and awe how he breaks it like a dried twig, like it was nothing to him. Kenny's on his feet before they can stop him again, moving across the library floor with purpose. The pain in his face is nothing compared to what he'll feel if he lets you slip away from him again. His reputation be damned, his pain be damned, all of it damned!

The library went quiet, and any hushed whispers were stopped when Kenny made his way over to you. He didn't even seem to care that he was leaving quite the blood trail behind him, and if anyone in the library cared they quickly changed their minds from the look on his face alone. The sound of his footsteps behind you made you turn to face him, but you don't have much time as he takes your wrist and drags you away from the many eyes and ears of others.

The school grounds are quiet right now, most people either have already gone home or are in class. Kenny doesn't slow down when walking and you don't stop him from dragging you across campus. He takes you further off school grounds, back near the many hills of South Park where the grass is peeking out from under the snow. The first signs of spring being crushed under your heels as you walk. Turning to face you, he doesn't get a word out before you're already looking up at him ready to talk.

"I'm sorry." He almost doesn't pick up what you say, the way you whisper it so softly. The clovers on your face can't make it easy but he can't help but admire how you make them look so ethereal; a painting come to life. Timeless and within reach.

"Why are you sorry?" Kenny struggles to talk as blood pours from his mouth and down his chin.

You don't know why you chuckle or why you smile at him, you should be terrified. Horrified for him that he was standing there talking to you with a fishhook in his mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world. Yet, with him it did feel normal. Unlike the other times you've interacted with the blond. This time it felt right.

If this was the work of him being your soulmate at play, you didn't really care. For the first time in your life things felt peaceful, you didn't feel the pressure of others. Because there were no others, just Kenny and you on a rolling hill. Just two dandelions growing next to each other and basking in the setting sun.

"That you're stuck with...me?" Your voice breaks through the little fantasy in your head and reality comes shattering back around you.

Kenny shakes his head and grins down at you, the gap between his front teeth that he hates now, bare to your eyes. Suddenly he doesn't feel so insecure about it. "I was just about to say that to you. You're the one who's got a plant growing out of your face."

"They were spider lilies and poppies yesterday." When you laugh Kenny has to resist the urge to grab you and pull you in for a kiss.

"If I get to hear you laugh like that always, never apologize to me again." You go to laugh again and look away from him, but he takes the sides of our face and turns you to back towards him. He's so gentle with you, shaky hands being careful not to crush the clovers on your face.

'Anyone else would have.' You think.

"I'm serious. Never apologize to me for being you again. You have no idea how thrilled I am that it's you. That I finally get to have someone to call mine and it's you." Those purple eyes bare down into yours like rain in a thunderstorm. You can even feel the water rolling down your cheeks and he's brushing them away with his thumbs. Whispering soft hushes, telling you not to cry.

"Kenny..."

"Shh, it's alright. I'm only saying it because I get it. I know where you're at but... maybe...maybe this is the universe telling us it's time to love ourselves. I'm not saying we've got to figure this out now I know I've got a bit of reputation of-"

You cut him off, for the second time today Kenny's been cut off, but he doesn't care when your lips are pressed so gently against his. The taste of copper doesn't even seem to bother you either. His eyes flutter shut, and his hands drop from your face to your waist where he pulls you in like he's always wanted to.

"I don't... think you're as bad as you think you are." You whisper against his lips and Kenny feels like he's going to melt.

"I don't think you're as bad as you think you are." He throws your words back at you with a playful purr behind his tone. "Baby I could tell the world just how perfect you are."

You scoff at that and roll your eyes, but the shy smile that plays on your lips tells Kenny exactly what he wants to hear. He reaches up to wipe the blood of your face, but you stop him and take his hand pressing a kiss into the palm of his gloves. You run his fingers through the clovers and take a deep breath, taking in everything around you.

"One step at a time Ken. For now, let’s worry about getting that hook out of your face."

"Huh? Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about it."

"How?"

"Was too busy getting lost in your eyes~"

You snort and push his hand away from your face, but it doesn't go far. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and pull him towards the school. Kenny follows you down the hill with all the love in his eyes he can muster.

Kenny McCormick had so much love in his heart to give, and now it was all yours. Maybe in the days to pass you’ll fill your apartment with the various plants and each little bud and flower would remind you of just that. That you weren't alone, you were surrounded by his love. That you were enough. That too him, you were words he couldn't put together and express. Other than...

I love you.

69 notes · View notes

kcake555 · 4 months ago

Text

Jibeom cake 🍰

golden child

7 notes · View notes

beautifulchris · 2 years ago

Text

detention

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

wc: 6,1k

featuring: bang chan, lee felix, sf9’s taeyang, loona’s heejin, the boyz’s eric, itzy’s lia, golden child's jangjun

summary: you both get detention at the same place

genres: hogwarts!au, classmates to lovers!au, gryffindor!hyunjin, ravenclaw!reader, fluff, drama, humor (i tried)

warnings: unhealthy behavior, small prejudice

notes: i apologize to heejin, i love you girl! enjoy ♥ moodboard made by me, pictures found on the internet. reposting works from my old blog

order of writing: chan - jisung - minho - hyunjin - jeongin - seungmin - changbin - felix

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland @kwritersworld

tag list: @badwithten @soobin-chois @raethethey send ask/dm/comment to be added!

“Detention it’ll be, Mr Hwang,” the potion professor glared, superficially rubbing his robes from nonexistent dust.

“But professor, I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Maybe if you cared more about your surroundings… The kitchen, tomorrow after your last classes. And ten points deducted.”

“Isn’t that a little unfair?” pleaded Hyunjin.

“Complain again and I’ll double the points.” With a last deadly look, the professor went on his way and the Gryffindor ran to Quidditch practice. “Don’t run if you don’t want another detention!”

Hyunjin obliged and walked until the professor was out of sight. Then, he sprinted like his life depended on it. Arriving at the pitch, he put on his Quidditch robes, took his broom and joined his teammates in five minutes chrono.

“Sorry I’m late, I was going so fast that I slipped and hit an armor, and it made a sword fly in the air right on…”

“Hyunjin,” started Chan, the captain.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Wait, I want to know if the sword flew on someone,” said Chan’s best friend and chaser.

“Yeah, the potion professor. I quickly pulled out my wand though and stopped it right before it hit him. I got detention anyway, in the kitchen tomorrow.”

“It’s alright, we don’t have practice tomorrow. Good luck, I heard from Felix that Pitts isn’t happy these days.”

“Thank you for your concern,” pouted the younger before leaving the ground.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

“It’s the third time this month that you forget your homework, Y/N Yoo. I’ll have to deduct five points from you and give you detention.”

“I understand and I’m sorry, professor,” you said as you looked down, rubbing your wrist.

“You can apologize to your House as well, tsk,” you heard a fellow Ravenclaw mutter behind you.

Lia, your friend and classmate, shook your arm gently to reassure you while glaring at the student.

She proposed many times to help you manage your homework and you thought that today was the final cue to accept. Damn your forgetfulness.

At the end of class, the herbology professor said your detention would be the next day after class, in the kitchen.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Hyunjin was drained from practice, he sprawled on the couch after a hot shower and a second later, Heejin, one of his classmates, sat elegantly next to him.

“Hyunjin, want to help me on my defence against the dark arts homework? I’m really bad at it.”

Hyunjin couldn't see all the efforts Heejin put in getting attention out of the boy. It wasn't his fault he wasn't interested. Nor was it his fault she wouldn't back down on her own. He just let her be.

“Same here, you should ask someone else. Eric, for example,” he answered without opening his eyes. Eric was one of his closest friends in Gryffindor.

“Then what about we go out after classes tomorrow? We could go to Hogsmea-”

“I got detention, won’t be able to.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Then I’ll get detention too, to spend time with you!”

Hyunjin finally opened his eyes and looked at Heejin in disbelief. She was, on the other hand, smiling innocently and feeling happy he would show some kind of attention to her.

“Why would you… get detention on purpose…? Those are awful…”

“I can take it, don’t worry about me,” she winked and as she got up to leave, she flipped her hair.

Hyunjin could only frown but eventually believed she wasn’t serious and relaxed against the couch, his homework could wait a few more minutes.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The next day, Hyunjin and Heejin got out of class at the same time.

“Let’s go to detention together!” she excitedly said as she tried to take his arm in hers but failed miserably because they were going different ways. “Where are you going?”

“The kitchen.”

Her face dropped. “What? I have to polish the trophy room, oh my god.”

“Isn’t the caretaker the one that oversees this detention? You better run if you don’t want to be late.” Hyunjin left, fearing to be late himself while Heejin cursed under her breath.

It goes without saying that she spent a terrible time polishing countless awards and trophies without magic along with a few other students.

You were slowly walking to the kitchen like a condemned, not looking where you were going, so you bumped into a taller frame two meters from the kitchen doors —meaning you walked past it. You lost your balance and almost fell over but Hyunjin caught your arms and helped you steady.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking straight,” you apologized looking at the person. Realizing it was Hyunjin, your eyes widened, you quickly freed yourself from his hold and entered the kitchen right away, but not without hearing him chuckle. There were two other students already.

“New students for tonight. Two of you can wash the floor while the other two make sandwiches,” Pitts, the house-elf responsible for the kitchen, ordered. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin rushed to the tables to start making sandwiches but got stopped by a yelling Pitts. “Wash your hands first!”

Hyunjin and you shared a glance, silently judging the students that unfairly chose for you, in your opinion.

A smiling house-elf came to you and Hyunjin with mops and buckets full of water and cleaning products. “You can use these, try not to wash too close to the fire over there, another student did that two days ago and put it out. Pitts wasn’t pleased at all.”

“Thank you,” you shot him a smile and went at the end of the place to start away, doing it as neat as you could.

“Then I’ll do the other side,” whispered Hyunjin to himself. He didn’t really know how to clean efficiently, but he did his best, tripping a few times.

While you were almost done an hour later, you realized Hyunjin was not even in the middle and three house-elves were on the floor, massaging their butts. The other students changed tables and went to your area of cleaning to avoid their shoes from being soaked. He kept apologizing to everyone but also didn’t stop his mistake. You quickly finished your part and joined him on the dry part of the floor, behind him.

“Hyunjin,” you called and watched him get startled with an apologetic smile, “you’re putting too much water, it’s never going to dry.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s alright,” you assured. You didn’t learn any spell that could do the trick —yet— but you knew house-elves could do a lot. “Can you dry out this area, please?” you asked a house-elf next to you who happily obliged. “Thank you!” You turned to Hyunjin. “So, you need to wring it first before washing the floor, like that.” You showed him how it was done and he thanked you four times in a row.

“You’re welcome, I wasn’t expecting an ace of Quidditch to know that anyway.”

He was taken aback by your remark, not really understanding what Quidditch had to do with his lack of cleaning knowledge. He felt like you were nicer to the house-elves than himself and he found it intriguing.

“I get that you’re judging me from my popularity, a lot of people do, but—”

“Popularity? You think you’re popular?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Wait, wrong choice of word. I meant reputation.” You slowly nodded, motioning for him to continue. “Anyway, don’t let my reputation cloud your judgment about me, please.”

“Why do you care what I think about you?” You were confused now and uncrossed your arms.

“I—” he blushed, embarrassed. “I don’t know, you seem cool and I’d like to be your friend?”

It was your turn to be taken aback, never would you have thought this would happen.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Your back was sore from all the moping you had to do —the kitchen had the same dimensions as the Great Hall so it was really huge. You complained to Lia, who half listened and half focused on her homework. You were seated at a table in your common room.

“Do you need help for your potion homework? I just finished it. We also have to write two parchments on how to take care of a kneazle for care of magical creatures.”

You sighed loudly. “What would I do without you?”

“You could start by buying a planner and note your homework on it. Then do them.”

“Nope. I prefer having you,” you smiled tiredly.

The 7th year keeper of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team entered the common room, spotted you and came to kiss your forehead.

“Hi sugarplum. How are you? You look tired.”

“I am, I got detention in the kitchen for forgetting my homework thrice.”

“Could have been easily prevented, then, huh? Please do your homework properly. I’m sorry Lia,” he added.

“Oh, it’s alright, don’t worry,” she blushed. “I can do that for my best friend.”

“Okay, dad,” you put your thumb up, eyes half closed.

“Big brother would be enough,” he laughed and left you to join his friends.

“Taeyang is so sweet, you’re so lucky to have a brother like him. Plus he’s really handsome.”

“Wipe your saliva before anyone notices,” you mocked as you got a closer look at your homework. You decided that you won’t be forgetting to do your homework anymore, it was too tiring.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Eric sat next to Hyunjin in the Great Hall during dinner.

“I metamorphosed some library books into crows and the librarian didn’t find it as funny as me. I got detention with Heejin, we had to polish silver without magic. She was mad. She kept muttering she got detention for nothing because you weren’t even there.”

“Well that’s a good thing I wasn’t seeing your fingers.” They were full of bandages.

“Oh, that? No, it’s from the fanged flyers I sent in the courtyard earlier. They’re not easy to stop.”

Hyunjin shook his head and chuckled. “You’re unbelievable. Aren’t you tired of getting detention?”

“I’m having fun so it’s worth it. By the way, how was yours?”

“I learned how to mop the floor and Y/N was there.”

“Y/N? They’re from Ravenclaw, right?” Hyunjin nodded. “Did you talk?”

“Yeah, I asked them if we could become friends.”

Eric gasped dramatically. “What did they say?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes at his friend’s mocking behavior. “Eat your chicken and french fries before they disappear.”

Heejin, who wasn’t that far from the two friends, heard it all and wasn’t pleased by the news. She searched for you at your table and decided to put an end to this nonsense, starting by trying to burn a hole on your head —from the intense staring.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

You loved transfiguration, the art was beautiful and you appreciated your accomplishments after putting lots of effort into them, because it wasn’t easy, at all.

No matter how hard you were focusing on the hedgehog in front of you, you couldn’t make it into an acceptable pincushion. Yours still had the hedgehog’s spines while Lia's next to you, still had feet and even tried to flee. Both of you used the reparifarge spell and kept trying. At the end of class, Lia managed to make a perfect pincushion while you were… getting there.

“Hyunjin,” called your professor, “would you please tutor Y/N?” Hearing your name, you looked at her with wide eyes. Were you this bad? “I’m sorry,” she said to you,” but I’m afraid you won’t pass the exams if you can’t do this after a week.” By that, she meant three hours of class.

Hyunjin stopped next to you without you noticing, smiling and waiting for you to start packing your stuff. “I’ll do it professor.”

“Professor! I have trouble transfiguring this as well, could Hyunjin help me too?” you heard Heejin ask from the back of the room. Lia and Eric rolled their eyes in unison.

“How inconsiderate must you be to want your classmate to tutor two people at the same time? Chaewon, would you please tutor Heejin?” The Ravenclaw agreed with a smile and you got out of class with the hedgehog in your hands, avoiding Heejin’s glare, Hyunjin and Lia beside you.

“Do you want to practice now? Or after lunch?” As if to answer his question, Lia’s stomach growled. You were hungry as well.

“Let’s eat first and meet up in the courtyard,” you proposed.

“Good idea, I’m starving,” said Eric as he put an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders. He shot Lia his best smile, which she answered with a smirk, before taking your arm and walking to the Great Hall, the boys following.

The hedgehog sleeping in your robe’s pocket, you were eating in front of Lia on the Ravenclaw table.

“Oh my god, she’s at it again,” she grumbled.

You followed her gaze and turned around to see Heejin next to Hyunjin, clearly overstepping his personal space. Eric’s smile, on the other side of his friend, was gone and he looked upset. Hyunjin was just ignoring her, trying to eat and talk to Eric.

You preferred focusing on your plate and that was the moment Jeongin chose to push Heejin gently and sit at her place. She was about to protest but one look from the 3rd year Gryffindor closed her mouth.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Lia and Eric went their way to let you and Hyunjin practice in peace.

“Do you have the image of the pincushion in your head?” You nodded. “Okay, try.”

You did, and the pincushion had a head.

“Damn it,” you cursed.

Hyunjin used reparifagex right away. “It’s alright, it took me a while too.”

Yeah, like an hour, you thought.

“Your wand movement seems a bit off, can you show me again?” You nodded and tried again, without using the spell. “Hm. Can I?”

“Sure.” Hyunjin moved so he was behind you, putting his hand over yours. His hand was warm, enveloping yours perfectly. It felt like the movements he made were fine, elegant even, compared to the ones you did earlier. “I think I got it,” you smiled, turning to him.

Hyunjin let go of you with a nod, watching you try yet again. The pincushion was perfect, fancy color and neat sewing. “Yes! You did it!”

“It’s all thanks to you,” you said, trying a few more times to turn the hedgehog into a pincushion, just to be sure you mastered it.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You thought accomplishing this was enough for the professor but no, she wanted Hyunjin to keep tutoring you until the end of term.

“I’m so sorry, I’m going to be such a burden,” you whined as you got out of class, massaging your temple with two fingers.

“Not at all, we get to spend time together.” You looked at each other and shyly smiled.

Your friends, in the back, were smirking at the sight.

“Soon,” Eric whispered to Lia and she nodded.

“I don’t think so,” whispered Heejin from behind them. If looks could kill…

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The next day after dinner, you were in your common room, doing your homework with Lia as usual. An owl entered by an opened window and landed on your shoulder. You recognized Soren, Hyunjin’s owl, for seeing her a few times delivering him posts on mornings. She lifted her talon so you could take the letter and after doing so, she affectionately nibbled on your ear before leaving.

You opened the letter. It was short and, as expected, from Hyunjin.

Y/N,

Would you meet me in the courtyard right now? I know it’s late and you might have other things to do— but I have something to tell you. I hope you’ll come.

Hyunjin

“Are you going?” asked Lia after reading the letter from above your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m not turning down on Hyunjin,” you started, putting your stuff in your bag. “See you later,” you waved at your friend and left the common room to go to the courtyard.

Once there, however, Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen. Instead, you were greeted by Heejin, arms crossed, a disgusted look on her face.

“I can’t believe you came. What do you think he would say to you?”

You were annoyed to be deranged by her of all people. And for what? You never did anything to her. Your eyes rested on her bandaged fingers.

“What did you do to your fingers?” you asked, ignoring her previous question.

“This damn owl didn’t want to deliver my letter at first, she attacked me,” she said, clearly annoyed and you suppressed a laugh. “Anyway, stay away from Hyunjin. He’s too good for you.”

“You don’t know me but okay, is that all?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been this disinterested by what she had to say— or she had planned to do it anyway, but the moment you turned around to go, she casted a hex on you.

“Colloshoo!” Your shoes stuck to the ground, you couldn’t move anymore. “Now you just need to wait for a professor,” she chuckled. Did she think you were this dumb?

I mean, you had a hard time in transfiguration, yes, but you were really good at charms.

You put out your wand and pointed to your shoes. “Finite Incantatem.” The effect of her hex got removed and you turned to face her. “I think you’ll need more than that to stop me.”

She sighed deeply and ultimately prepared for a duel. “Don’t chicken out now.”

“Just because I’m not a Gryffindor doesn’t mean I’m a coward. Langlock!”

Her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth, making her unable to speak. She clutched at her throat and ran away quickly. You decided to go back to your homework when you saw Heejin talking to the potion professor in one of the hallways. You couldn’t avoid them so you waited for them to come to you.

“And she just attacked me behind my back!” Heejin was smiling behind the professor but you still had her panicked face in mind when she couldn’t open her mouth.

“Y/N Yoo, did you just attack Miss Jeon?” he asked.

“Do you want to hear my side of the story or are you going to believe her lies?”

“I don’t have time for your little games, Yoo, I’m going to give you detention for attacking another student and wandering in the castle at night.”

“She sent me an owl asking me to come here, then used Colloshoo on me, and I get detention?”

“Maybe you should have stayed in your common room. Jeon, you’ll get detention for the same reasons.” If that was the only semblance of justice you were getting, you were going to accept it.

“What?” Heejin was not having it, though.

“But I won’t give you the same detention. Jeon, you’ll pickle rats’ brains in the dungeons tomorrow after class while Yoo, I heard the Hospital Wing needed hands to clean out the bedpans so you’ll do that.”

“Yes, professor.” The least you wanted to do was stay with these two so you rapidly went back to your common room, hearing Heejin’s protests in the distance. She probably got more trouble.

“How was it?” enquired Lia the moment you entered.

“Turns out it was Heejin wanting me to stop seeing Hyunjin.”

“What?! Where is she? I’m going to—”

“She complained to the potion professor —of all professors— and we both got detention. You better stay here.”

“What happened?”

You explained everything and she seemed really mad. “I wonder if she doesn’t have a rat’s brain,” was all she could mutter with clenched teeth.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

At the Hospital Wing for your detention, you found Hyunjin already there.

“Hyunjin?” you called.

“Y/N? Are you hurt?” His eyes widened at your sight and he ran to you.

“No, why would I be?”

“It’s the Hospital Wing, generally students come here when they need to,” he laughed.

“I have detention,” you pouted.

“Ah, me too. Eric used dungbombs in the toilets of the first floor and I happened to be there with him.”

“It sucks, I’m sorry. He seems to enjoy it though.” You started cleaning out the bedpans with him under the vigilant gaze of the school’s nurse.

“Trust me, he does! So, why are you here?” After you narrated yesterday’s events, he opened his mouth —only to close it a few moments later.

“No way… I’ll talk to her, I’m so sorry. This is embarrassing, she’s not even my friend.”

“It’s okay, I know how to take care of myself,” you winked, which reassured him a little.

“But… What she did isn’t okay, if only just the fact she used Soren, my precious owl…”

“She’s really sweet by the way,” you smiled at the souvenir of his owl’s affectionate behavior towards you.

Heejin wasn’t in neither of your mouths for the remaining hours in detention, preferring talking about the things you had in common and made you both smile.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Hyunjin did keep his promise, because the second Heejin went to see him in their common room, all smooth and smiling, he confronted her.

“Hi Hyunj-”

“We need to talk.” His voice was firm, his face closed.

Heejin acted confused and worried, putting one of her hands on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s talk privately,” he continued, leaving the common room to go in the nearest empty hallway, Heejin right behind him. “What you did to Y/N was so wrong, and don’t get me started on Soren.”

Heejin’s expression changed at your mention, of course you told him, what a snitch. “It’s not what you think,” she pleaded.

“And what am I thinking?”

“I— she attacked me first!” she tried.

He sighed exasperatedly. “I’m in no place to tell you what to do but it’s in your best interest to stay away from Y/N, Soren and me, from now on. If you could stop obsessing over me, it would be cool too. Please, wake up and stop trying to get me to like you, I won’t. I can't. I like someone else.”

He was about to leave when Heejin grabbed his arm. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” she rolled her eyes in annoyance. “They came out of nowhere and stole your heart just like that, while I was there from the beginning and gave you everything.”

“I’m sorry, but you were suffocating me. I don’t think that’s love.”

She stared at him for a while then finally let him go, looking down. “I— I understand. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Hyunjin smiled. “I forgive you, and Y/N and Soren deserve an apology too.”

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The next day, Heejin came to you as you were going to a tutor lesson with Hyunjin.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” she blushed in embarrassment.

“Are you going to hex me if I refuse?” you raised an eyebrow. She shook her head in disagreement. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize for what I did to you. It wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have done that. I was jealous of you and wanted Hyunjin for myself.” She had slump shoulders but maintained eye contact.

“What made you change your mind?” you frowned, still being a bit suspicious.

“Hyunjin, actually. He talked to me and made me realize how unhealthy and delusional I was being. I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’m not asking you to forgive me, though.”

You genuinely smiled at Heejin and offered a hand to shake. “I do. Let’s bury the hatchet.”

She happily shook your hand and you parted ways to go to your lesson.

“I just spoke to Heejin,” you said as you arrived in front of Hyunjin, seated on a bench in the courtyard. He opened his eyes wide. “She apologized and I forgave her.”

He sit up straight. “You did?”

“Yeah, you did too, right?” you said as you sat next to him.

“She told you?”

“No, I figured. You seem to be indulgent.”

“I guess I am. I’m glad she willingly apologized.”

“Oh, I thought you made her do it?” you joked.

You both laughed and started working on cross-species switches —a pain.

After the tutoring, you were doing your homework with Lia. Taeyang entered the common room and sat next to you at the table.

“Y/N, who’s the guy I saw you with earlier?” he enquired, looking over your neatly done herbology homework.

“I need you to be more specific.” You knew who he was talking about but you could have your part of fun from time to time.

“There’s more I don’t know about?!” His shocked expression was worth it.

“You know him, why act like you don’t?”

“So he is a Gryffindor’s chaser. You’re not feeling like befriending the enemy?” he joked.

“It’s not like I was playing and you’ll always be my number one Quidditch player.”

“I better be. So are you more than friends?” he smirked.

“Oh my god no Tae, and don’t you dare give me the talk!” You took your stuff to finish your homework on your bed, knowing Tae wouldn’t follow you there.

“I’m just asking, but you’re defensively answering, plus you’re fleeing. You’re hiding something from me, I know it,” he said to himself, comfortably installed in the chair, lost in his thoughts.

Lia whispered something to your brother then followed you upstairs and you both worked on your respective homeworks.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

“We got a friendly match coming up this weekend with Ravenclaw, so I want all of you to do your best. Their keeper and seeker are particularly good,” said Chan at practice.

“We weren’t expecting a friendly before at least three weeks, what happened?” asked Hyunjin.

“I don’t really know, Chaeyoung asked for this, and said it was important.”

When Hyunjin joined the pitch that day, he thought he understood why this friendly was being held. Taeyang was on his broom, flying over the stands where you were, talking together. He grew anxious and a bit jealous, because Taeyang was a really good —and intimidating— keeper and apparently, you were also close to him.

During the friendly, you were cheering for your house team and lowkey Hyunjin. He scored some goals but Taeyang stopped a large amount of quaffles. Ravenclaw won after Jisung caught the snitch.

After the match, you waited for the teams outside of the changing room with a bag full of cauldron cakes.

Jisung and Chani were the first ones to go out and thanked you after you congratulated them and offered them some cakes. Then Hyunjin came out.

“Hey, what did you think of the match?”

“It was great. You were great, flying like an eagle.”

He giggled. “Thank you.”

“I must admit, you’re pretty good on a broom,” a voice said from behind you. Taeyang put his arm on your shoulder and took a cauldron cake from the bag in your hand. Hyunjin was a bit intimidated so he thanked him quietly, his eyes fixed on his hand on your shoulder.

“I present you my big brother,” you smiled and his eyes widened. He immediately felt stupid for being jealous and looked away.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he proposed his hand, which your brother shook strongly.

“Taeyang. I’ll keep an eye on you, just so you know. Don’t mess with my sugar plum.” You grimaced at the nickname, he had to use it now.

Hyunjin gulped and shook his head vividly. “I would never.”

You were embarrassed and the rest of the teams coming out saved you. You offered the rest of the cauldron cakes to everyone and fled to the castle.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Next saturday, you were wandering alone through the castle —Lia went to Hogsmeade with Eric— when your brother came to you.

“Y/N, I got an owl from dad. With no surprise, he told me to keep an eye on you and to keep you away from trouble.”

“How sweet of him. Couldn’t send an owl directly to me and ask how I’ve been, though?” That was your dad. And hearing about him angered you.

“Y/N… don’t be like that, please.”

“Like what? Did he ask how I was in your letter?” His silence answered your question. “See? My time in detention is all he cares about, I’m tired.”

“I’m going to answer him. Stay inside the castle, it’s going to rain soon.”

“Whatever.” It’s frustrated and angry that you walked outside, between the castle and the Quidditch pitch. You looked for a mud and poop free area, lied down and took deep breaths.

Your dad was a Quidditch player in his years at Hogwarts. He was so good at it that he made the national team after he graduated. His whole life was dedicated to Quidditch, so he was beyond proud when Taeyang made the house team in his second year, like your dad. But he was also extremely disappointed when you didn’t even bother to go to the tryouts, despite the pressure your dad was putting on you.

Your brother was supportive of your choices and always defended you against your dad, but it was pointless. He acted like you were dishonoring the family and his ‘legacy’. It hurt you to the core, but you wanted to live your own life like you intended to, not like your dad or anyone else wanted you to.

You could have hated Quidditch because of all this, but you kept on supporting your brother and your house team, by coming to the practices and bringing sweets along for the team. Your brother often asked you to stop, saying you were just going to make them gain weight but they never said no to your gifts, especially not Jisung and Chani.

You looked at the sky, trying to clear your head. It was blue with lots of white clouds and you closed your eyes for a while, enjoying the breeze. Around twenty minutes later, you felt drops hitting your nose, then your forehead and neck. Milliseconds were enough for the rain to pour like a waterfall. You sighed and put your robe’s cap over your head. The castle was further than expected but you didn’t run.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel the rain anymore although it was still pouring. You lifted your head and saw Hyunjin on his broom, an umbrella in his hand put above you. He had his Quidditch outfit on, water dripping from his damped hair. He smiled sweetly at you and your cheeks burned from the kind gesture. You ran to the castle so Hyunjin wouldn’t have to do that for too long and he didn’t have problems following you. When you arrived at the big door, your gaze went to the Quidditch pitch and despite the weather, you could see forms flying around, meaning one thing: Hyunjin was having practice and ditched it for you. He shook his hair while you looked at him and smiled fondly.

“Your hair is sticking out everywhere. Cute.” Your eyes widened at what you just said and coughed. “Thank you for the help. You were having practice, right?”

Hyunjin chuckled at your expressions. “No problem, Y/N. Yes, Chan will understand why I left.”

“Alright, you should go back now. Don’t catch a cold!” He was going higher but stopped to give you the umbrella.

“You’ll need this more than me. I suggest you go dry yourself and stay by a fireplace. Bye!”

He flew to the Quidditch pitch and you were left there, your heart ready to combust from the cuteness of the conversation you just had.

You entered the castle and Taeyang found you in the hallway.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?” His disapproving look didn’t wash away your smile and heart eyes.

“I don’t regret it.”

Your brother used the hot-air charm to dry your clothes and you thanked him, before going to your common room together.

“I told dad you were doing good and that you could take care of yourself just fine. You okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m good. Thank you. You’re the best brother ever,�� you chanted, linking his arm to your own.

“I’m your only brother, it’s easy.” He 100x preferred seeing you smile than being upset, and wanted your happiness above all, even your dad’s wishes.

You sat together on a couch close to the fireplace to fight the cold.

“How do you put up with the pressure dad’s putting on you?” you asked.

He thought for a while then shrugged. “I love Quidditch and I’d rather he focuses on me to let you breathe. I’m sorry it’s not going as planned, I just wish he would stop caring about Quidditch so much.” You hugged your brother tightly. You were thankful for him.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

It was May and the last Quidditch matches of the season were being held. Slytherin had won against Hufflepuff, and the points in the match opposing Gryffindor to Ravenclaw were going to be crucial to know the winner of the Quidditch Cup.

You were excited to know which house would win this year and of course, you supported your own house, and Hyunjin.

You went to see him before the match at breakfast. “I’m rooting for you. But also my brother and my house team. Anyway, good luck.”

You left before he could reply so you had no idea how happy and confident it made him. Albeit you could feel it on the pitch when he came on his broom. You were in the stands with Lia and Eric, respectively in your house colors, and you must admit Hyunjin’s name left your mouth a lot during the match, maybe even more than Taeyang’s.

“300-270 for Gryffindor and the golden snitch isn’t caught yet,” said Jangjun, one of the commentators.

“Come on Jisung,” you heard Lia whisper beside you.

Your eyes were on Hyunjin. He avoided Chaeyoung and gave the quaffle to Lisa, allowing her to approach the goal. She pretended to shoot and your brother fell for it.

“Lisa scores! 310 for Gryffindor,” shouted Felix, the second commentator.

“It looks like Jisung has seen the snitch,” commented Jangjun. “Mark is right behind him. He’s gaining ground… Jisung’s giving his all… and he catches the snitch!”

“Ravenclaw wins 420 to 310!” announced Felix.

All the Ravenclaws jumped and screamed, pumping their fist into the air. You were really happy for your house team. Gryffindor did lose this match, but they accumulated the most points so they won the Quidditch Cup.

“We were 40 points away from the Quidditch Cup,” Taeyang had said in the common room where every Ravenclaw celebrated their victory. “But we did great on the match. I’m really proud of every single one of you. I could’ve stopped more quaffles—”

“Hey, you stopped a really large amount of quaffles and no one here could have done the same,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.

You could hear some people agreeing with you and the screams intensified.

“Thanks Y/N. To our victory!” he cheered, raising his butterbeer into the air.

The crowd echoed and the party lasted until late but paused for dinner. In the Great Hall, you could see the pride in every Gryffindor’s eyes interested enough in Quidditch. You saw Hyunjin and gave him a thumbs up and a big smile but you definitely didn’t expect him to run to your house table and take you into a big hug, which you reciprocated, obviously.

Lia's smile widened and she discreetly clapped her hands while a few Ravenclaws gasped and stared at the two of you with wide eyes, including your brother. He knew there was something going on with the two of you, but, like you, he didn’t expect that to happen here and now.

“I think I did so well thanks to your encouragement so I wanted to thank you for it,” he whispered cheerfully in your ear.

“Are you sure? It was really awkward, not really an inspirational speech,” you jested.

“Yeah,” he laughed, a light sound you couldn’t get bored of hearing. “Maybe it’s because it was you.” He sounded more serious so you moved back to make eye contact. Neither of you cared about the people around you. “Y/N, spending time with you is the highlight of my days. You’re dazzling and I really, really like you.”

You smiled until your eyes crinkled. “Hyunjin, you happen to be a really good guy whose presence makes me incredibly happier. My life has been brighter since I met you. I like you too, like a whole lot,” you giggled and his smile couldn’t be wider.

He hugged you tight again and when you opened your eyes, you were met with your brother’s. He was smiling contently, giving you a thumbs up.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please let me know <3 and here's the masterlist!

111 notes · View notes

seeminglyseph · 6 months ago

Text

My fanfic brain keeps trying to craft reasons for Apollo not to bring up Troy at all, and it just keeps spinning this line, so I'm writing it down so it stops:

Zeus: The loss of Troy grieves me also, for Priam's Troy was my most beloved of mortal cities. However, my favour and my grief could not protect them from my wrath and the consequences of their pride. Apollo knows not to stir my grief, I dislike memories of such unpleasant things, and his favour can only shield him from so much.

#seph listens to epic #epic the musical #epic the wisdom saga #wisdom saga spoilers #idk man my brain is made of fluff #i don't remember his wording while negotiating with hera but it was good #in the iliad to be clear... where im thinking about zeus speaking about priam's troy being his favourite #the idea of apollo being quietly aware of zeus' temper and toeing the line of it feels fascinating to me #very golden child energy #'look this guy is going to explode you just haven't spent as much time defusing him as i have'#honestly i feel like aphrodite pauses between 'high and mighty' and 'Odysseus' as like a jab #but also 'gurl you're about to get slapped down hard if you don't watch it'#do i have some experience 'managing' temperamental parental figures? yes.#does god games feel a little bit like 'whoa there golden child you're about to learn about mistakes'? maybe #no it's not a perfect concept but like... there's a little bit of like. hmmmmmmm #the dynamic is not *absent* at the very least...

13 notes · View notes

childlikegoblinqueen · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 79 Preview

Probably going to be out tomorrow, so here's a preview...

Click below if you want to read! There are no spoilers though!

“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Hunter stretched his body up, reaching towards the ceiling. Without a shirt, his scars were on full display. The first time Willow had seen him like this, he shook uncontrollably. Slowly, they’d worked out a method of communication where he could share information about his scars, and she would listen.

Once, his plant prodigy girlfriend had told Hunter that when he stretched up to the sky, he looked like a tree reaching towards the sun for growth. Coming from anyone else, Hunter would had thought this was a slight against him and his species. Coming from Willow, it meant she thought he was beautiful.

39 notes · View notes

nonranghaes · 7 months ago

Text

bomin doesn't let you go. most mornings, he does, reluctantly, but this morning is special because neither of you have to work. so when you get up to go, well, anywhere, he's catching you by the wrist and pulling you back into his arms. he's too tired to be awake this early, and if he's too tired, then he knows you are, too. such is the life of two people who try to sleep in whenever they can (he thinks you're his perfect match sometimes because of it).

"no." he's grinning, pressing a kiss against the side of your face. he's as little more awake than he wants to be, but he'll doze right back off when you're cuddling with him.

and you just mumble incoherently, drawing up his hand from where his fingertips have grazed your collarbone so that you can kiss the side of it. "i'll be right back," you murmur, untangling yourself from him.

he sighs, and lets you go before curling back up. yet it takes more than a few minutes, and by the time he lifts his head, he sees you carrying a bag with tissue paper crinkling a little inside of it. the mattress dips underneath your weight as you crawl back in, dropping it in front of him.

and he just picks it up, dropping it right onto the nightstand. "later." he says, opening his arms up. "let's go back to sleep."

"but--" you pout, but it doesn't last long. with a sigh, you move under the blankets again, slowly snuggling into his embrace. "fine. but you have to act extra impressed for me."

he snorts just a little, and kisses your skin one more time before shutting his eyes. "i will."

but he feels the way you smile against his own skin, pressing your own tiny kiss against his neck. "happy birthday, my bomin."

#nonranghaes.golcha #golden child x reader #golden child fluff #golcha x reader #golcha fluff #choi bomin x reader #bomin x reader #bomin x you #choi bomin x you #im a few hours early i think but im waiting for something soooo might as well

19 notes · View notes

starry-nights-garden · 2 years ago

Text

Jangjun ✧ Bitter-sweet

✧ Golden Child Jangjun x gn!reader ✧ words: ~2.1k ✧ genre: fluff, a bit of angst, mutual pining, coffeeshop AU ✧ warnings: none

Desc.: You’ve been falling for your coworker Jangjun ever since you started working at the same coffee shop as him, thinking he feels the same about you. However, when one day you finally notice how he’s flirtatious around everyone he talks to, all your hopes are crushed to the ground.

You were naive. When you thought for a second that maybe the way he talked to you meant he was interested in you, you were simply naive.

“He’s like that with everyone,” your coworker’s words are still ringing in your ears as you watch him talk to a couple of customers, two young women who are very much flustered and charmed by his smile, “a lot of customers come here just to see him.” He’s the type of guy who’s naturally flirty, they say. You’ve heard that he hasn’t had a partner in a long while, though, and even though he seems to regularly have both girls and guys alike asking him out on dates, he’s somehow turned down all of them. Maybe he has a policy not to cross that line with a customer of the coffee shop where you both work, or maybe he’s simply not interested in a relationship.

Either way, that piercing feeling in your chest just won’t go away everytime you see him now. Probably due to you not realizing at first that he flirts like this with everyone, you felt your heart beating faster whenever you saw him. Now that reality has hit, your heart still won’t calm down. Instead, there is another layer of emotion accompanying what can only be the budding of a new crush: rejection.

You tear yourself out of your thoughts that seem to always return to him in the end, and you straighten your back, ready to redirect your focus on work as you see a young couple walking into the shop. They’re holding hands and the way they both smile shyly as they quickly discuss what to order makes you think they haven’t been dating for long.

And it also makes you jealous. Another glance over at Jangjun, who’s returning from a table to the far left of the shop, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to hold his hand like that.

“An Oreo-frappuccino, please,” the guy who’s not much taller than his girlfriend says. “And for me a pumpkin latte.”

“We’re all out of that today, sorry,” you say, adding for clarification, “the pumpkin latte.”

“Oh.” The guy thinks for a short while, then he says, “Then the same as her, please.”

“Two Oreo-frappuccinos, coming right up.” You watch as they pay for their beverages, noticing a bunch of customers entering the coffee shop and approaching you. Just as you think to yourself that you’ll have to hurry up with making the drinks, you find that Jangjun has already started preparing them for you. You raise your eyebrows at him, when he smiles at you and your heart involuntarily skips a beat.

“I’m on it,” he says. “You can leave the drinks to me.” And so you simply nod, because words fail you while you’re trying to suppress all the conflicting feelings about to overwhelm you, and you return to the counter to take the next customer’s order.

Your afternoons and evenings working at the shop pass just like that. You’re always simultaneously a little too close and a little too far away from him, while he always remains his usual cheerful, helpful self. Sometimes when you have a few minutes to yourself, you catch yourself observing him from afar - you can’t help but marvel at the way he has seemingly any customer wrapped around his finger in no time. The way he smiles, teeth showing and creases appearing next to his eyes, staying polite but still charming enough to have all eyes in the room drawn to him. You too can barely peel your gaze off of him, even though you know you shouldn’t be out here, pining over your coworker this obviously. But he doesn’t seem to notice, because even when he does catch you staring, he simply shoots you yet another one of those smiles that have burned themselves into your mind and keep you awake at night with a fast beating heart, and then he moves on with his work.

“Y/N!” you hear his voice calling out to you just as you’re about to leave the shop in order to return home late at night. Your shift finally being over, you look forward to a hot shower and some food, but his words make you stop in your tracks immediately anyway. You throw him a look over your shoulder, feeling nervous as it’s just the two of you left in here, and he quickly comes running towards you. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but… can you help me lock up today?” You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly - usually there’s not much to do except for sweeping the floors and making sure everything’s clean and prepared for the morning shift, and normally Jangjun does all that work by himself. However, you decide not to question it, and instead you’re simply thankful that you get to spend a few more minutes with him.

“Sure,” you say, and he lets out a breath of relief.

“You’re a lifesaver, really,” he says, reaching for your hand without thinking and squeezing it tightly in his. “One of the boxes got messed up during delivery, and now there’s kind of a mess everywhere…” You walk to the back of the shop together, and when you see the puddle of syrup on the floor, you sigh. The sticky liquid has spilled under one of the shelves in the storage, and there’s no way to figure out where it’s coming from by just looking at the cardboard boxes once.

“So we have to open and check all of these?” you ask and he nods.

“I’m afraid so…” He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration once, before adding, “And I thought I’d be home early for once.” Hearing his words, you feel the need to find the culprit quickly, not wanting this to keep him here for longer than necessary.

“Let’s start by taking all of them out,” you say. “If we check the bottom of the boxes, we’ll probably find the one with the broken bottle quickly.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, and he’s already reaching for the first heavy-looking box. Fetching a cutter knife from around the corner real quick, you open every box that has a stain of the sticky syrup, until eventually you find the right one. Carefully taking out the broken plastic bottle, you dispose of it together. Now all that’s left to do is cleaning up the sticky mess on the floor, and sorting the wares from the stained boxes into the shelf.

When you’re done, it’s almost an hour later, and a look at the clock hanging above the entrance to the storage room makes you sigh.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize - though you know it couldn’t have been helped.

“No, no,” Jangjun immediately cuts you off, and he looks away as he continues, “We were a lot faster thanks to you, so… thank you for staying behind with me.”

“Of course,” you answer, and then you add with a laugh, “I couldn’t have left you here all by yourself.” He looks up, his surprised gaze almost piercing through you, and you let out a gasp you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Y/N,” he then calls out your name again, and you gulp at the way the feelings rush through you.

“What?” Jangjun comes closer, until there’s only an arm’s length of distance between you. At this point you’re starting to panic - what if he’s finally going to call you out on the way you always have your eyes glued to him? What if he’s gonna tell you to just give up on him? You know how stupid you are for having feelings for him, and if you knew how to stop them, you would.

You hold your breath for a few seconds as he sighs, his gaze wandering from you to the floor, as if he was searching for the right words to say.

“Why did you give up?”

“Huh?”

“I mean…” he clears his throat, letting out a tense laugh as he realizes how dramatic he must’ve sounded just now. “I mean, why are you keeping your distance from me? Did I do something to upset you?”

“I-” You’re still speechless, and so you’re glad when Jangjun immediately keeps talking,

“I just-… Please forget about this if I’m wrong, but… I thought you liked me.” Your heart is racing at this point, and from the way his expression has grown serious, you’re not sure if you should be happy about the fact that he’s bringing this up or not.

“I… I do…” you eventually admit, telling yourself that maybe if you confess and get rejected properly, you would find a way to move on. However, the guy in front of you seems to have no such plans.

“Then why are you suddenly avoiding me?”

“What…?”

“I mean, you used to talk to me a lot, and then suddenly all I get are stares from across the room,” he says, and it makes you feel embarrassed. “What’s that about? I thought we were on the same page.”

“On the…?” You attempt to collect yourself as you take a deep breath. Should you really tell him the truth?

“I like you, Y/N,” he continues talking, laying bare his feelings as if he had not a single fear of getting hurt in the process, and you’d have to be lying if you said it didn’t make you admire him.

“You… like me?” you repeat, and Jangjun lets out an exasperated laugh.

“Yes! I thought I made that obvious…”

“But… but you flirt with everyone like that…”

“Huh?” There’s a surprised expression on his face now. Was he not aware of the way he talks to people?

“Someone said you talk to everyone like that, so I thought… I was just imagining things and I felt really stupid about it…” you admit, feeling ashamed of how naive you were.

“Y/N, look at me.” You do as he says, and when you find nothing but sincerity behind his eyes, you’re suddenly starting to feel like maybe you weren’t naive at all. “I like talking to people. I like making them laugh and making them happy. And yes, maybe it all comes across as me flirting, but… I swear to you, I’ve never looked at any of those people the way I look at you. And I haven’t felt about anyone the way I feel about you in a long while either.”

“That means…?”

“I like you, Y/N,” he says. “That’s what it means.” You stare at him blankly for a moment, while his sudden confession is still sinking in, and then you start smiling. You reach out to wrap your fingers around his hands, and when you look up again, you can see that his ears have turned a deep shade of red. Suddenly there’s a big grin creeping onto your lips, and you feel both stupid for not having noticed the way you affect him sooner, but also happy that you finally know.

“Jangjun,” you say his name, and he gulps. Despite him being the nervous one now, he does his best to seem calm.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” You understand that your request could come off as too bold and out of the blue, but the idea that he could refuse doesn’t even cross your mind. And instead of waiting for you to take the initiative, he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist, stumbling forward a few steps with you in his embrace until your shoulders hit the nearest wall, and before you can realize what’s happening, you already feel his lips on yours. Warmth spreads in your chest as he kisses you, and you’re overwhelmed by the way he moves his lips against yours with need - as if he couldn’t have lived another day without it. Your hands find their way to his back, where you grab onto the fabric of his shirt, tugging at it as you give yourself up to his kiss.

You don’t expect him to run his tongue across your lips, eventually deepening the kiss - especially not considering that this is your first kiss with him. But somehow you don’t mind, because as much as he’s rushing into this with you, his every touch is still careful in a way, and you feel yourself melting against him.

When you part, both of you need some time to catch your breath. And now that you’re standing right in front of him, his arms still wrapped around your body, and your hands still holding onto him, you can see it clearly. The way he looks at you is different from how you’ve seen him look at everyone else, and though thinking about how you haven’t noticed it until now leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, it gets washed away with sweetness as soon as your lips connect again.

#golcha drabbles #golcha x reader #jangjun x reader #golden child x reader #golcha scenarios #golcha imagine #golcha fluff #golden child fluff #jangjun drabbles #jangjun fluff #golden child imagines #golden child scenarios #fluff

15 notes · View notes

sergeantsporks · 2 years ago

Note

"#can you imagine calling for help from your abusive situation and a six foot guy covered in scars shows up"

You know Sergeant, in the US there's this organization of bikers (Bikers Against Child Abuse or BACA for short) who do stuff like escort kids to court, sit in on child abuse trials, even stand guard outside of homes of abused children- All because their groups' aim is to help make abused kids feel safer.

I can totally see Phoenix (And maybe some of the other ex-GG's!) starting up a similar group for the benefit of the children of The Boiling Isles'!

Lol, so in that scenario, a six foot blonde guy covered in scars would be incredibly reassuring to a previously abused witchling.

OH YEAH I KNOW ABOUT BACA

Golden Guards Against Child Abuse (Golden Guard background not actually required). This is a thing now. This is what some of the Grims are going to do with their time post WAD. They're going to use their Golden Guard Intimidation Face on shitty parents and protect kids while they get out. Hell yeah.

#something something the golden guard legacy living on in the isles not as a symbol of the old regime #but as a symbol of protection against child abuse. Belos is spinning like a rotisserie chicken in his grave #asks #gilded family au #gilded fluff #toh

24 notes · View notes

key201303 · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to this year's Saint Valentine's special series. It will contain 4 different scenarios where The Rose members will ask you to marry them 💕

Also if you want you can request your short scenario with your favorite idol/actor from my MASTERLIST. You're free to request any scenario that comes up to your mind 💕 You'll be able to request from today until Feb 14th

Happy Valentine's day! 💕 And if you don't have anybody that gift you chocolates, gift them yourself and show some love to your self, you deserve it 💕

VALENTINE'S DAY X THE ROSE

3 notes · View notes

d1stalker · 7 months ago

Text

This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that.

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long.

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed.

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window.

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been.

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here.

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off.

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker. “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent.

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse.

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug.

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan.

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this.

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. This is so fucking awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance.

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact.

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out.

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city.

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace.

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined.

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction.

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses.

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away.

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in.

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last.

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you.

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent.

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time.

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night.

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield.

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer.

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible.

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before.

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced.

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual.

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement.

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk.

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it.

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?”

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day.

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions.

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you.

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen.

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon.

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together.

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen.

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat.

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm.

There’s a pause.

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible.

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think. “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state.

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you.

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again.

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure.

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat.

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat.

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way.

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity.

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began.

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs.

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger.

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it).

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.

You have half a mind to join them.

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment.

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon.

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you.

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before.

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before.

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets.

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad.

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you.

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment.

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words.

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time.

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind.

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there.

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way.

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go.

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more.

So, you make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city.

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops.

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago.

----

7K notes · View notes